Read A Winter's Date for Free Online Page B

wouldn’t she have told me?
    I was going to be a father. She was going to be my baby’s mother.
    A thousand questions flood my mind while pictures of a pregnant Heather will their way into my head. No, she couldn’t have known. She’s been drinking. She wouldn’t have drunk, would she? She wouldn’t have hurt our unborn child or herself; she would not have put herself at risk. I need her like I need air, and she knows that.
    Fuck Alexis.
    She took this from me. My girl and now my child, one of them is gone forever while the other needs aid in breathing. Rage flows through my veins, and I stand up to leave this oppressive room to find my Heather when a nurse comes in.
    “Sir? Were you able to fill out her paperwork?” She tries to soothe me with her flat, gentle voice.
    “I’m going to need more time.”
    She nods in understanding and leaves the room to me, and my irrational thoughts. I stare blankly at the clipboard lying on the seat, and before I know it, a couple of hours have passed. Soft footsteps on the cold tile bring me back from a muted, dull place. My eyes meet a nurse’s and I stand up to greet her.
    “Sir, Miss Lane is out of surgery and in her recovery room. You are welcome to go and see her now.”
    She signals for me to follow her, and I can’t move my feet fast enough, but she isn’t moving quickly enough to suit me. Doesn’t she realize I need to be with her? I’m seconds away from bypassing her and searching rooms on my own when she walks into a room at the end of the hall.
    My feet keep stop cold when I see my beautiful girl, lying in this bed all alone, tubes connecting her to machines that surround her.
    “It’s okay, you can come in and talk to her. It’s better for them to hear voices than just the constant beeping of the machines,” the nurse softly says while checking an IV bag that hangs above Heather’s still body.
    I will my feet to move and walk over to the side of her bed. I’ve never felt so helpless before in all of my life. She’s motionless and my heart is aching in my chest because I can’t help her while she suffers . . . but it’s much more than suffering. She’s in a fixed, comatose state that is keeping her universe at bay, keeping all of the painful and heavy sorrow out of her life.
    The nurse leaves the room and shuts the door behind her, leaving me alone with Heather. The only sounds that fill the confined space are the maddening beeps, hisses, and clicks from the machines that surround her, moving air into her lungs and monitoring her vitals. I sit in the chair next to her bed and reach for her hand. It’s always cold, but this is colder than usual, lifeless. I want to cover her body with mine and keep her warm, but I’m afraid I’ll break her.
    “Baby? Can you hear me?” My voice is weak and quiet as I look up at her emotionless face. Her beautiful eyes are closed as if she is resting peacefully, but I know she’s fighting underneath the stillness of her body. I can’t stand the tube that rests between her roseate lips; it shouldn’t be there . . . none of this should be there. My lips belong there.
    I want her to breathe on her own. I look down and bring her hand to my lips, placing soft kisses on it, whispering things to her, keeping her hand warm.
    “God, baby, please wake up for me. Please?”
    I gaze down her body and slowly place my hand on top of her flat stomach as the loss that I was just told about sinks in further. My child used to be here; I rub my thumb gently against her as I feel her stomach rise and fall with every aided breath. I never gave any thought to being a father, but would I have been one? Eventually one day, I think I might have. I sit still in the cool room before throwing my head back and staring up at the acoustic ceiling tiles separated by white grids.
    If she didn’t know, will she be mad? I don’t even know this simple thing about her, among many others. Did she ever want to have a baby and would she have had mine?