aes

                this came two years after she became mrs barbara maitland, a tutor at ms shannon’s school for girls, and co-owner of maitlands hardware. they were established on their own, they were comfortable and happy, living in her old family house. the conversation arose again after a trip for groceries, little jane butterfield was on her mother’s hip, and oh ! how her heart melted at the sight of little girl, the smile that pulled at features was an honest one, and adam knew that look. he knew that longing. the conversation was had later that night. they could at least stop not-trying.

                three months down the road, the test came back positive. their duo was to become a trio. in nine months they were going to have a baby, a little version of the two of them. excitement sparked in maitlands’ features. a perfect family of their own.

                you didn’t do anything wrong.   he says,   these things just happen sometimes. the doctor breaks the news as carefully as one can, he explains what he knows, he watches young couple crumble under the weight of information. watches tender hearts become bruised, fragile broken things. explains how they could try again in a few months, when they’re ready.   he doesn’t know they can’t, he doesn’t know how deeply the pain sets in, how terrified they are . . . he doesn’t know they’ll never get the chance.

                barbara blames herself, her body. feels uncomfortable in her own skin. she flinches whenever adam reaches to take her hand. she doesn’t want to be touched, she doesn’t want to be seen. adam internalizes feelings, he could’ve done something more. could’ve helped somehow. they get into an argument about it, but they don’t blame each other, in all their pain and anger, they can’t. couples therapy, it’s almost a laughable idea. the golden couple needing couples therapy. but it isn’t about their relationship, it’s about their loss. a burden too heavy to be carried on it’s own, a burden they need to learn to help each other with, to accept help from each other. it wasn’t their fault. barbara repeats this, hoping one day she’ll mean it.

                there is a lot in life barbara maitland missed out on, most of which were little things, meaningless things that did not leave her unfulfilled in the afterlife. most of which did not matter. however, there were many things in her life that did matter. knitted sweaters and stitches in quilts. picking a color for a room never used. every detail mattered down to the color of stitch used. yellow, soft and warm like a sunflower, stitched into white fabric. something neutral. barbara suggested, no pink or blue. something that wouldn’t have to be changed, something that showed their excitement no matter what. the door was closed to them, the room never quite forgotten. something that could have been.