The pain eased off again, leaving only a little relief in its wake. I figured I only had a minute’s breathing space before it would return with even more force. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes before Ben’s callused fingers brushed my cheek, wiping them away. Flopping my head back, I lifted my eyes to the ceiling and prayed. Help me.
“Shh. You can do this, Andy.”
“I can’t bloody do this. You’ve implanted me with a monster!”
Wincing as the words slipped out, I wanted to grab them and smoosh them back into my mouth.Dropping my head, I rubbed my belly. I didn’t mean it, baby. You’re a blessing.
Gripped in a vice of crushing pressure, I could do little but twist my head to the side and cry as I rode out the agony.
I can’t do this. Something is wrong.
Tears came in a torrent now as the last of my energy reserves drained away. I was vaguely aware of the obstetrician at the foot of the bed, poking and prodding at my girly bits. I didn’t care. I’d left my dignity at the door before I checked in two days ago. His voice came in clipped tones, nipping at the heels of the nurses. My attention piqued when I caught one of the words.
Caesarean.
“Andrea.” The doctor leaned over me, his brow scrunched so tightly that all the lines seemed to merge into a mountain range of concern.
I blinked. That was as much as I could manage as another contraction surged through me.
“We’re taking you to theatre to do a Caesararean. The baby is stuck in the birth canal. He’s a big one, and we’re concerned that his heart rate keeps dropping. Okay?”
My heartbeat thumped harder as if it could make up for the deficit in my child. The gloom of my emotions darkened. My baby is in trouble.
I nodded in agreement. Ben’s warm hand gripped my fingers tighter and he leaned over, brushing a kiss against my sweaty forehead. Even set in grim lines and covered in scruff, his face was beautiful to me. I searched every feature, scared that this would be the last time I’d get to see him. Somehow I knew that my life, and the life of our baby, hung in the balance. The thought was so solid in its presence that it couldn’t be denied as it sat on my chest. I fought it, the meaning so abhorrent that I could barely comprehend the repercussions.
My fingers flexed in Ben’s grip. After all we’d been through, it couldn’t end this soon.
The next contraction inflicted a pain so intense it felt like I’d been ripped in half. Eyes rolling back, I wanted to scream, but couldn’t find the strength. Wetness gushed between my legs and my heart stuttered in my chest.
“Why is there so much blood?” Ben’s frantic voice broke through the buzzing in my ears.
The bed started to move and the scuffle of shoes on linoleum grew louder with the shouts of the medical staff. Fluorescent light flicked across my closed eyelids and a shiver ran through me as the cold hospital air rushed past the bed, seeping its way into my skin.
The knowledge continued to sit heavy and melancholy on my chest, slowing my heart.
It couldn’t end this soon. Could it?
The chill seeped deeper.
Ben’s palm slipped out of mine.
Yes ... it could.
_____
Andrea
Rockhampton, Australia
2nd of July, 2006, 4:38 p.m.
Propped on my bed, I stared at my feet, the TV screen flashing a moving backdrop behind them. There was still no sign of Jess. I’d seen footage of Jess’s mum and her boyfriend, Cameron, sitting behind a table in a press conference. They’d appealed to the public for any information on her missing daughter. Leona had been a total mess, red eyes, quivering bottom lip, leaning on the guy I suspected had done her the most grievous of injustices. I’d watched him through narrowed eyes, looking for any hint that he was a liar. He’d kept his arm around Leona’s shoulders, appearing suitably sullen.
Jess’s face flashed across the screen with every news update throughout the day. Her disappearance was the top story along with a fire at Mount Archer National Park, a fatal shooting during a jewellery store robbery, and Michael Schumacher winning the US Formula One Grand Prix for the fifth time. I knew this because I hadn’t left my room or turned off the television for a whole week. I kept it on mute, only turning the sound up when the news came on.
Bree would curl up at my side a couple of times a day and I would stroke her hair and cry. Even Will had come to visit. I think I freaked him out by bursting into tears and he hasn’t been back since.
Mum and Peter were letting me wallow, but I could tell they were growing tired of my personality one-eighty. Every time she’d collect the food tray left at my door she’d sigh, taking in the cold, soggy plateful left behind. I might’ve picked at bits here and there, but they sat in my stomach like pebbles irritating my twisted gut. My emotions had me swinging on their vines. Disbelief, anger, denial, depression. If I let go, I feared I would fall into a bottomless pit.
How could Jess be gone? If only she’d stayed over, maybe she’d still be alive.
Cameron. What did the news say his last name was? Thwaite? I sat up, throwing my legs over the edge before standing. Bursting through my door, I followed a path to the computer in the living room.
“Andy!” Mum squeaked.
“Yeah?”
“You’re up.”
“I am.” I booted up the computer.
“What are you doing?”
“Just gotta check something.”
“Okay.” Her voice cracked.
I raised my eyes from
