"What's happened? Is she OK?" my stomach began to turn and I swallowed the sick that had risen to my throat.
"Arleen I'm afraid there was nothing we could do. She was in a lot of distress and without knowing what was causing it, there was nothing we could do to help her. We run a few tests and found nothing-"
"What do you mean you found nothing? There clearly was something wrong with her! Why didn't you run more tests!"
"I understand you're angry, but I'm afraid she passed before we could attempt more tests and X-rays-"
"I just don't understand, she was fine when I left her this morning! She was only in there five minutes-"
I waved my hand at the door where Harper had been. My eyes stung from tears and I longed for my husband to be there with me. He would surely have been at home, worrying about our whereabouts. I would have to go home alone and find the strength to tell him that our little girl was no longer with us. We had gotten Harper a month after I had miscarried my son, Liam. We were beyond devastated when we lost him. Although he wasn't planned, we took the news as a blessing. Both Myron and I were over the moon: decorating the babies nursery, buying little baby grows and fluffy toys, reading an endless supply of parenting books that we had borrowed from the local library. My family too were thrilled. Myron's Father wasn't all that pleased and made comment that "accidents did happen" and that it was my fault entirely. Myron had found his Fathers comment audacious and had given him a stern word later on. Life was good until one day I started to feel incredibly ill whilst at work and was rushed to hospital where I was told that I had in fact lost the baby. My heart ached. I hadn't prepared myself for that situation-why would I? I felt that his loss left a gaping void in our lives- a void that we never knew existed before Liam. Myron and I began arguing constantly, but we both understood that we were grieving and needed space. A month later, I was flicking through a newspaper when I saw an advertisement that read 'Could you give one of these puppies a loving home?' with a black and white photograph of six dachshund puppies and beneath a brief description of the litter. From the moment I saw Harper, who was the smallest of the litter, I just knew we had to have her. I showed Myron over dinner that evening and he agreed that she would make a perfect addition to the family. Him and I both knew that she would take our minds off of Liam. We still mourned for him terribly and as I had taken time off work to deal with our loss, we felt it was the right time. A few weeks later, we drove ten miles to meet our new bundle of joy and she was everything we could have asked for.
****************
My blood ran cold. I released the grip around the telephone and let it fall to my side. The world fell still. No surely she was wrong? She couldn't be dead. My hand went to my mouth and I sat down slowly, my head pounding.
Joan took a seat next to me and put her hand on mine.
"I'm very sorry." She whispered.
It felt as though the world had been tipped upside down. I was shocked and in disbelief. It had all happened so quickly. So many unanswered questions; Did something happen when I had left for work that morning? Would I have been able to save her if I had gone home at lunchtime instead of going to the office party? Had she been feeling unwell before and I had let it go unnoticed? The thought of her lying alone and helpless flashed through my mind and I cried hard.
"If only I had gone home at lunchtime-I'm so selfish, it's all my fault"
"Arleen, I can assure you it wasn't your fault. Sometimes these things happen and we don't have an explanation."
I hadn't believed her of course and blamed myself entirely. If only I knew then what had really happened I would for sure be putting the blame on Myron instead of punishing myself.
I stayed at the vet for half an hour talking to Joan and her husband Charlie, who run the business, after saying goodbye to Harper. It saddened me that my husband wouldn't get the chance to do the same. Joan was very calm and supportive and I was glad to have her accompany me as I kissed Harper for the final time. She looked so fragile that I was scared to touch her in case she broke. I felt like I had lost a big part of me, that I would never be able to fill. At 7:40pm, I headed home, straining hard to stay focused on the roads ahead. I couldn't think straight but I knew that once I was once home, I would be able to confide in my husband. I was wrong.
I arrived home fifteen minutes later and saw Myron's Lexus parked in the driveway.
I parked up next to it and then cut the engine. I sat trying to regain my thoughts, wondering what on earth I would say to him. Nothing I did say would ever cover just how devastating the news would hit him and I knew that I must be careful with how I delivered it, especially since Liam's birthday was the following week and we were both sensitive.
I opened the front door and called out to Myron but didn't get a response. I sat on the stairs and took off my coat and boots and then made my way to the living room. Myron was slumped onto the sofa in his casual clothes, his eyes fixed to the television screen. He didn't look up or acknowledge my arrival which I thought was strange and I sat beside of him and put my hand on his arm.
"Myron I'm sorry I'm late, did you get my message? I did try to contact you."
I spoke slowly almost as though I was expecting my husband to have an abrupt uproar at my lateness*
"Where the bleedin hell have you been, I've been sat here worrying all night and you have the nerve to bloody go on bleedin' knees up with all your stupid friends" He blasted, not breaking eye contact with the screen. His voice was husky and had aggression in his tone, something I wasn't at all familiar with and it took me by surprise.
"Myron, love, I haven't been out with my friends. I've been at the vets all evening with Har-"
"Don't you dare think of lying to me! Do I look like a bloomin fool? huh? Do I?" He suddenly locked eyes with mine and his face twisted in anger. I had never seen him so angry, so cold. It unsettled me and I stood quickly and headed for the door when he suddenly sprang up and grabbed hold of my wrists and slammed my back hard against the wall, his grip fierce.
His face, only inches from mine screwed up in fury, his breath hot against my skin. He held me pinned to the wall, his body weight pressing against me in attempt to stop me from escaping his clutch. I struggled against him in panic, my heart racing.
"Myron what's the matter, please tell me what I've done, you're hurting me!" I tried
He had my hands above my head and my body felt frail against his.
"Tell me again where the fuck you've been." he bawled, his nose pressing against mine.
"I told you I was at the vet-"
"Liar! You were with someone weren't you? Weren't you!" He shook me violently against the wall.
Fear ricocheted throughout my body as I fought against him. He grunted loudly as he held me tighter. His breathing was heavy and forceful. I lifted my knee up swiftly and met with his groin, making him keel over in pain. I ran for the door, terrified. Within seconds Myron was behind me and without warning he grabbed hold of the side of my head and slammed it against the door. Pain shot through my skull and I fell to the floor, my hands clutching my head.
"I'll fucking teach you to lie to me! Take me for a fucking fool"
I lay face down on the wooden tiling in agonising pain, my eyes screwed shut. I heard a muffled voice and then a sudden sharp pain exploded in my back as Myron kicked me hard. I yelped out in pain. Then nothing.
When I regained consciousness for a moment I couldn't remember what had happened and as I slowly lifted myself into a sitting position, clutching my throbbing head, I wondered how I had got onto the floor. Had I slipped? Had I fallen over the coffee table? The room was quiet-too quiet. Where was Myron? The sudden hit of realisation came to me and I quickly sat bolt up right. Myron had hit me. Multiple times. But why? Where was he?
Shaken and badly hurt, I used the edge of the coffee table to steady myself as I force my body to stand. My back ached, but my head hurt more. I was worried of the damage he had caused. Were there any internal bruises?
I stood in the centre of the living room, head throbbing and listened out for any sound that would indicate where Myron was. But nothing.
I could taste blood in my mouth and I wiped at my lips with the sleeve of my coat. Thankfully, my lips weren't bleeding. I headed to the kitchen and poured a glass of water and swilled my mouth out in the sink.
I felt like I was in a dream, like I was living somebody elses life.
Washing the sink quickly, I put the glass away in the cupboard and headed to the living room and through to the bottom of the stairs. I stopped and listened again for any sound- but nothing. With any hope he would have gone out.
Clenching hold of the banister tightly, I heaved myself up the stairs, flinching as the muscles in my back strained. I come to a halt halfway up the stairs when I heard the chain flushing. My heart sank as I stood exposed on the stairs. He was here. Any minute he would come out of the bathroom and see me. I pondered the idea of running straight out of the house. But I couldn't. I felt paralysed. The bathroom door opened and I heard the heavy thud of footsteps coming closer. Myron suddenly appeared on the top stair, looking down at me. I froze as we stood, staring at each other. Any second and he's going to throw me to the foot of the stairs I thought, fear suffocating my body.
Myron suddenly sat on the stair and held his arms out in front of him, his face solemn. I looked up at him, waiting.
"Come here." He said softly. All the anger, all the bitterness that was once there had vanished and the man I had loved for all those years was sat on the stairs, arms out in front of him like a toddler. I went the last few steps and when I reached him, he pulled me into him and put his head in my lap and sobbed, the way a child would when they know they've done wrong.
I cradled him as he begged me for forgiveness. He promised that it would never ever happen again and I saw truth in what he said. I kissed his head gently and cried with him, reassuring him that everything was going to be OK.
People would ask me why I let him get away with it. Why did I choose to stay with him? The truth is, I chose to stay with him for all the things he had done right and not leave him for that one thing that he did wrong. I guess I was naive, but as I sat on the stairs with him crying for the fear of losing me, I just couldn't bring myself to walk away.