Empty Place

On the local news, a woman is pleading for the safe return of her
baby. Her hair is lank with sweat under the television lights, her eyes
bruised with bewilderment. Despite her weeping desperation, Caroline
thinks it's a charade. Stupid, girl, she thinks, because that's all she
is, a slip of a girl. Caroline's eyes sting and burn with tears. Who
would leave a newborn baby outside a supermarket?
She can't bear to listen and turns down the sound. If her baby had
lived, she wouldn't have left him anywhere on his own, for
anything.
Pain squeezes her stomach.
She should eat something, has she eaten since she came out of
hospital? She can't remember, doesn't want to, propels herself instead
into the kitchen but there's only a stale loaf. She slices the bread,
toasts it, feels guilty. How can she consider her own survival, when?
but she mustn't go down that road, she mustn't, she'll go mad; she's
halfway there already.
Jon once said to her, after it got too much, when he was sick of
trying, sick up to the back teeth of her, he said 'I don't think you
want children, you just can't bear not being in control, you can't
stand failure. It's another project, like your precious job, can't stop
until you've made partner, then started your own practice, I mean where
is a baby going to fit in? Where, Caroline?' He smiled tightly, to
reduce the sting but his words sliced through her.
'You're happy to live off the proceeds though aren't you, of my
precious job?' she reminded him. 'It means you can sit around
pretending to be a writer and all I ask in return is a baby and you
can't manage it can you Jon, and you feel guilty.' She smiled too,
stretched her lips anyway, but he said stop treating me like one of
your bloody patients and she was sorry it had all been reduced to them
coating each other with acid.
'You're not maternal,' Jon couldn't help adding, twisting the knife as
he left her to rattle around in her Victorian house. 'Cold as ice, if
you want to know.' She didn't, but he told her anyway. 'No-one likes
you, even your patients have to pay you to be nice to them, you haven't
got any friends, let's be honest.' She didn't argue, could tell he'd
been dying to get it off his chest, was glad she hadn't married him
when something like love briefly turned her into somebody softer.
When she realized, two weeks later, that she was pregnant, she didn't
contact him. Besides, he'd gone traveling. His mother phoned to let her
know. Thank god he got away, she seemed to be implying but Caroline
didn't care, she was happy, radiant, content for once, she thawed,
blossomed, grew chatty.
'Pregnancy suits you,' her receptionist, Rosie, told her and Caroline
smiled, couldn't stop smiling and she thought how pretty Rosie was,
marveled that she'd never noticed before.
She wished her mum was still alive to share her miracle, but still,
this was all she needed really, this was everything.
She took time off, attended antenatal classes, decorated the nursery,
discussed a natural birthing plan, she wanted to feel the pain and joy,
couldn't wait, just couldn't wait.

She doesn't know what went wrong; nobody could give her a satisfactory
explanation. One of those things, a virus crossing the placenta
perhaps, but she had to give birth anyway, give birth with all the pain
but no joy. There would be no more joy.
He was so perfect, her little boy with his tiny toes, it didn't seem
possible that he wouldn't open his eyes and look at her and know that
she was his mother, it didn't seem possible, as she held him close,
pressed him to her aching breasts, that he would never wake up and cry
for her, smile for her. But it was. And her tears felt like they would
seep forever behind her eyelids.

She jumps as the doorbell shrills, drops her uneaten toast, wonders if
she should ignore the caller, but no, no she mustn't, she must answer
the door, though she can't imagine who it could be, nobody ever calls,
it must be the milkman, he probably wants paying.
'Caroline! You look awful! My sister went through it, said never
again, she couldn't cope without sleep. Don't be cross, I know you
probably would've phoned but I couldn't wait so?
'Rosie?' Caroline is surprised her voice still works, she hopes it
doesn't sound as raw to Rosie's ears as it does to her own, but Rosie
doesn't seem to notice anything unusual, she's letting herself in,
exclaiming over the d?cor. 'Wow, this is amazing, it's like a
show-house, puts my place to shame!'
Caroline feels tired right down into her bones, she wants to push
Rosie back onto the cold street but she hasn't got the energy.
'You're going away?' Rosie's spotted the suitcases at the bottom of
the stairs and looks upset. Caroline tries to remember how being
sociable goes, it's an effort but she pulls on a tired smile and
smoothes back hair that badly needs washing.
'I'm going to stay with my dad in New Zealand. In fact?' should she
say it, she's not sure about the timing, but it's got to be said '? I'm
going to live out there, Rosie. I want a fresh start.' And that was
god's honest truth, she couldn't stay here any longer, couldn't imagine
going back to work. 'I'll sell the house, probably. Hannah can take on
my appointments.' Did she sound vague? She doesn't care, she really
doesn't.
'Oh.' Rosie seems upset but can surely see that Caroline has changed,
that things aren't the same, isn't it obvious? 'I'll miss you.'
Caroline can see that she means it and feels something that might be
gratitude.
'Can I see the baby?' Rosie has perked up again, she's the sort of
person who's cheered at the thought of a tiny baby and who wouldn't be,
Caroline wonders listening to the pounding of her heart, it's so loud,
she's surprised Rosie can't hear it, but Rosie's striding into the
lounge, her eyes searching, she's started cooing, she's taking a toy
lamb out of her bag, she's got a gooey smile on her face. 'Oh there he
is! He's gorgeous, Caroline! Can I pick him up, please, I'll be ever so
careful, my sister's got a baby, I'm used to holding them.' Her cheeks
are pink with excitement and it must be catching because Caroline's own
face is flushed and she's stopped shivering.
'Go on then,' she says, liking the way it sounds. 'He's just been fed,
you should pop this over your shoulder.' She fusses around, smiling
now, answering Rosie's questions, yes he is big boy, yes I am breast
feeding, well they do say it's best don't they?
Behind Rosie, the television glows. There's that young woman again,
she's holding up a photograph of a baby, it could be any baby, they all
look alike at that age.
Caroline picks up the remote control and plunges the screen into
darkness.