“I know. One of the reasons why LA is one of my favorite cities,” I tell her.
The air is clean here and the view unrivaled. We have a 360-degree view of LA. Marian and I break for water and to admire the view. She looks so thoughtful, looking at our surroundings but not seeing it.
“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” I say.
When she turns to me, I see that her eyes are filled with tears. “I’m just thinking how much I’d have loved to hold our baby if she had been real,” Marian says. “What would she have been like at three years old?”
I swallow a lump of saliva. My heart squeezes painfully at the grief in her voice. I don’t know how to help her. This feels so beyond me. I need help. The only thing I can do at the moment is to hold her and let her cry again.
I insist that we turn back and curse myself when I see the lines of exhaustion etched on her face. “You’re going straight to bed when we get back home,” I tell her.
“No arguments from me,” Marian says.
Back home, Marian follows my orders, and we go upstairs, where I tuck her into bed. I go back downstairs, restlessness following me like a shadow. I’d assumed that Marian’s loss would be a two or three-day affair. Clearly not. I feel so unequipped to deal with it.
I fish out my phone and call the one woman I trust implicitly. My brother’s wife, Lexi. She answers on the second ring.
“Hey, Lexi,” I say.
“Hello, stranger,” Lexi says.
“Are you free to go for a short drive? I want to talk,” I tell her.
“I’m good. I’ll be ready by the time you get here. Ace can do some babysitting duties,” she says.
“Thanks, sis,” I tell her and disconnect. Lexi and Vanessa are the sisters I never had when growing up.
I check on Marian before I leave. She’s out like a light. I arrange the covers around her and kiss her lightly on the forehead. I tiptoe out and sprint down the stairs. I want to be back when Marian wakes up.
It’s a short drive to Ace and Lexi’s house and being Sunday, there’s no traffic. I pull up to the parking lot and walk to the apartment building entrance. I love their complex. It’s perfect for children with a play area made specifically for them. Luna already has plenty of little friends who are her neighbors. It was the same for me and Ace growing up in Santa Monica. The same families have lived in the same neighborhood for years, and we grew up surrounded by the same friends until we became like family.
The elevator deposits me on the second floor, and I stroll up to their door and knock. Ace flings the door open, with a grinning Luna perched on his hip.
“Is that my girl?” I ask with exaggerated facial expressions and reach out to take Luna.
Luna lets out a delighted giggle. “Uncle.” Her words are improving. Not too long ago, she couldn’t say the word.
I sniff her baby smells and let out a sigh. Pangs of pain come over me as I remember the baby we’d believed was in Marian’s belly.
Ace and I chat a little before Lexi comes out, and he takes Luna from me. “Twenty minutes and I want my wife back,” Ace says with a growl.
“Whatever,” I throw back, glad that he trusts me implicitly when it comes to his wife.
“Stop,” Lexi says. “I’ll stay for as long as Declan needs me.”
Even if we’re teasing, it’s a sweet thing for Lexi to say. We chat as we go down the elevator and head to the car. I have no destination in mind.
“Any ideas?” I ask Lexi.
“Let’s go to the park. It’s not too far from here, and I can have a lemonade,” she says.
We head to the park and talk about everything except why I wanted to see her. The park is beginning to be busy. It’s a beautiful day to be out. I park the car, and Lexi hops out to get us some lemonade from the snack stand.
She comes back carrying two cups. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I take a deep breath and brace myself. I experience a moment of disloyalty, but I instantly dismiss the thought. Lexi is family, and I do need some advice. I’m at a loss on how to help Marian. I tell Lexi the whole pregnancy tale and how excited Marian was. I don’t realize that my voice is cracking until Lexi places her hand on mine.
“Drink your lemonade,” she says.
I take a gulp. I feel empty inside, as if talking about it is soaking up all my emotions. “I thought she would be fine in a day or so, but today, I realized just how much pain she’s still in, and I don’t know what to do.”