I could almost hear the water scream as the porcelain beast in the bathroom violently snatched it away with one immense gulp, guzzling down and discarding the diluted remnants of proof. I hear the faucet open and close as she washes her hands and then nothing. I stand in this awkward limbo as an ocean of silence washes over me. Seconds become minutes, as one would expect, but each moment feels like a lifetime; especially after I knock on door and she doesn’t reply. I sit, I stand, I pace; I debate with the other voices in my head and argue with my heart as I tell it to calm itself. It doesn’t listen. Finally, I hear the loud clunk of the lock as it relinquishes its grasp and prepares to free the truth. The handle reaches for the floor and the door creaks as she slowly emerges from behind its veil; I can’t place the expression on her face. She looks sad, confused and scared all at the same time, which form this haunting concoction of uncertainty that even Mr. Holmes would have a hard time deciphering. She can’t look me in the eye.
I stride toward her, eliminating some of the physical distance between us and I ask her what is wrong. Two words trickle from her mouth and throw me toward the sky with such unbridled force but then, the look in her eyes and the expression on her face cast a dreadful shadow as they illuminate the sudden rush of darkness and make me feel the way I imagine criminals do when the bat symbol appears. Some venomous merger of anxiety, doubt, nausea and peril that, almost, seems to vibrate from my core. In a heartbeat, my glorious moment of flight descends into a plummet with such velocity that I am certain to shatter into, at least, a thousand pieces upon impact. I ask her to repeat herself and she does; this time her words are stalked by two salt-laced trails that run down her cheeks.

I don’t understand.

We always spoke about having children – we even have names picked out for them already – so how can she be so sad about delivering this news to me. This should be the happiest moment of our shared lives but, instead, I can see now that the expression she wears is of one in very real distress. In one fell swoop, I understand that she is not happy and does not want this baby and, I guess what they say about misery is true because, the unhappiness she feels soon infiltrates my system like some vicious virus. I feel cold and weighed down by a burden I fear even Atlas could not shrug. I take a step back, or maybe I simply stumble in disbelief, and I begin to shake my head. Not a single word is uttered but I guess my expression is clear enough for her to read the betrayal carved across my heart. She whispers something that sounds like remorse but I cannot pretend it means anything at this point.

I am lost.

It seems like another lifetime slips between us before I am able to step forward and take her hand. Although I make it clear that this is not what I want, I also make it clear that I will support her no matter what; that life within her was, of course, created by the two of us. I keep holding her hand. Right up to the moment we arrive at those doors. I tell her once more that this is not what I want and remind her that this is the last chance for her to walk away from this decision. She takes a difficult step forward, so I step with her. They won’t let me in with her so I sit, I stand, I pace; I practically suffocate in a room that feels like the walls are pressed against the very fibres of my being. Multicoloured magazines, black leather, eggshell white and deep brown woods seem to swirl and mesh into one ball of nothing around me. Each tick of that damn clock is like another punch to the heart in which I hope and wish she will suddenly come out and tell me she couldn’t go through with it and we will continue as if this horrible saga never happened as we begin to plan for the life of our little life. I sit in this awkward limbo as an ocean of sounds stomp out a furious and frantic waltz in partnership with the onslaught of voices and thoughts in my head. Seconds become minutes, no matter how much I try to convince them to do otherwise. Each moment feels like a lifetime in which I die, at least, one thousand deaths. My stomach feels like an army of acrobats are flying and flipping in every direction possible. And to say I feel numb, would be an understatement.
The door lurches open sluggishly, releasing from its jaws a truth I know but wish I could erase and a face I know but almost cannot place. Maybe I just don’t want to see. She shuffles toward me and I can’t look her in the eye. I know what her eyes will say to me and I cannot deal with that yet, especially since I’m not sure how long it has been since I actually breathed. I take her in my arms for a moment before holding her hand. Together we walk away as I say goodbye to Lilli and tell her how sorry I am that I never got to meet her, before telling her that I loved her from the moment I knew she existed. And I’ll love her until I no longer exist, all the while riddled with the hope that we’ll meet in another lifetime.

I pray, then, I get to see her smile; and hold her hand.