You Should’ve Been There
“Almost there,” said the man in white. “Just one more time, love.”
The woman in the hospital bed was tired. Exhausted. Her entire body felt like it was breaking; cracking from the base of her spine into a million little pieces. Sweat plastered strands of dark hair to her neck, and her breath came in ragged gasps. It hurt – it hurt so much. She never thought it would be this bad. But the hands that gripped the bedrails were strong – the desperation coursed through her and she gave a fierce sob.
A cry split the air.
It was over; she fell back onto the bed and wept.
“Congratulations,” smiled the man in white. “It’s a girl.”
A phone nearby crackled and a nurse came up to hand it to the new mother. “Ma’am? Your husband would like to speak with you.”
Smiles. Relief. Intense, searing joy.
“Sweetheart?” a frantic voice sounded from the other end. “Darling, are you all right?”
She couldn’t answer him; she just smiled and wept.
The voice pleaded again. “Darling, please talk to me! Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she gasped out. The doctor was handing her her child – it immediately stopped crying. Large, dark eyes opened to a new world.
“Hello, sweetheart,” the mother whispered, tenderly stroking its head. The child yawned.
The voice from the phone became excited; “Sweetheart? How is she?”
The mother smiled. “Beautiful.”
“Beautiful,” marvelled the young father. Thousands of miles away, the soldier sat down on a wooden crate. He put his face in his hands and cried his own tears.
The soft voice he loved so much came from the phone he clutched in his hand:
“You should’ve been there.”
***
A young man stepped out of a cab and into a puddle of rain. He squinted against the downpour, running to the revolving doors of his successful company. Specks of mud stained his tailored suit, and his black shoes no longer shone.
Mentally, he cursed the weather.
Within the calm interior, he pressed the phone to his ear a little tighter.
“Sorry, what did you say?” the businessman asked in his smooth, suave voice.
“I said the funeral just ended.”
The voice was calmly reproachful. A cool hatred simmered beneath his brother’s words.
“Oh. How did it go?” said the successful businessman, now stepping into an elevator.
“It was everything he deserved to have. Hundreds of people showed up.”
The young man remained silent, coming to his floor. He stepped out and briskly set out towards his spacious office, designed by the best. What a relief it will be to sit in his large black chair.
“Mother asked about you,” the voice was still quiet, but there was definitely an edge to it now.
“Did she?” returned the businessman. “What did you tell her?”
“The truth,” replied his brother. “That you don’t care.”
The older brother came to a stop in front of his office door. Anger pulsed through both men – one reproachful, the other defensive, separated by a distance measured in years.
“I do care,” he corrected, with all the ice of a hundred winters. “I told the family why I couldn’t come. The meeting—”
“And how did that go?” his voice was scathing.
“Fine,” the reply was stiff. “It’s not even like I was missed. You said it yourself – there were hundreds of other people there.”
Several kilometres away, a boy stood in front of a grave. His tears mixed with the rain that streaked down his face, and he blinked furiously to see the name written in stone.
Hatred and bitterness welled up in him for the older brother he hoped never to become.
“Maybe,” he said quietly into the phone. “But still.”
He choked back a sob. “You should’ve been there.”
***
Music blared through a pair of speakers, making the floors vibrate. It was only a lucky chance that he saw the light on his phone – the screen flashed five missed calls.
As he peered in a haze, not comprehending the letters, his phone lit up once more. The screen overwrote the words, now declaring incoming call.
He flipped it open and pressed it to his ear. “Hello?” he slurred.
Someone was saying something – drunken laughs sounded raucously and he couldn’t hear it – the walls of the private home were shaking in sync to the vibrations. Stumbling outside, he gulped fresh air. The haze lifted somewhat and his mind became sharper.
“Hello?” he said again.
“Honey?” a voice sobbed. “Could you please come home?”
“What’s wrong this time, babe?” he asked, leaning against a wall because the world began to tip on its axis.
“Just please come home,” the sobbing continued. “Please. I need you.”
“Not right now.”
The phone was closed; turned off. And he had already turned to the soft wall, whose arms now encircled him and pressed kisses on his sweaty skin.
Hours flew by; the drinks seemed to get even better. The world spun dizzyingly but that was only more exciting. When the music quieted down, headlights began to come on as people peeled off the lawn.
Sitting in the backseat, he pulled out his phone and frowned. Why was it turned off? He turned it on.
It immediately began vibrating. Twenty-three missed calls, read the screen. Incoming call, it declared again. He felt nauseous; leaning out the car window, he heaved. When he was done, he answered the phone.
“Sir? It’s your wife. She’s in bad condition. How soon can you get to the hospital?”
Blurrily peering at the strange woman behind the wheel, he muttered, “Soon.”
Ten minutes later and he was stumbling up stairs, bursting into a blindingly white room. A slim woman lay in the bed. Tubes snaked out of her chest – a large one was clamped over her nose and mouth. A familiar face sat beside her, holding her hand.
Angry electric blue eyes lifted to face him. “She’s nearly dead.”
A plummeting feeling in his chest as he tripped to his wife’s side. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No. Why?”
“She tried to kill herself,” answered the quiet voice. “Maybe this time she really did.”
He shook his head, cursing the alcohol that numbed his senses. Or maybe he should be grateful, because it dulled that ripping sensation he felt somewhere where his heart should have been.
The young man holding her hand stared at the drunken husband with a blind fury. The sweet, gentle thing lying broken in the bed didn’t deserve such an ending. He was babbling something now, in a drunken stupor. What was he even saying?
“If I had known---”
“She called you.”
His hard gaze accused the woman’s husband. He had nothing to say to that, but now fell to his knees beside her.
And the young man only held her hand tighter, one tear falling on the chest of the only woman he had ever loved – and lost to someone so unworthy of her.
He had only one more thing to say. Jaw clenching, pain tearing him apart, he stood and finally let her go.
He looked at the sobbing man. “You should’ve been there.”
***
The seasons changed. The soldier came home to his wife and three-month old daughter. He held them tight and cried again.
The successful businessman visited his family. His brother wouldn’t talk to him. He found him at their father’s grave. Together they stood there, rereading the name which neither of them would ever forget.
The husband stayed by her side. Three months later she finally woke up. She said only one last thing before she closed her eyes for the last time:
You should’ve been there.