As quietness began to once again settle into the funeral home, he sighed as he moved about quickly in the morgue, dressing yet another decedent so he could be casketed in the morning for visitation. With his back turned towards the doors leading into the funeral home, he didn't see her slip in silently. Coming up behind him, he startled when she reached around him to hold something down for him.
"I thought you left with the others." he said gently, as he looked up and saw her eyes were red from crying.
"Hmm? Oh yeah, I did. But then I realized that I wanted a drink, and the guys all wanted to go home. My cousin is in PA. Anna can't drink because of the baby and my best friend is out at BW and I don't feel much like driving out there to drink. So I have the bottle," she said, as she held up a large bottle of Blackberry Arbor Mist. "But I don't want to drink alone, because apparently drinking alone makes you a drunk, to which I am not yet." she added, as she looked at him. "So I came back to see if you wanted to join me in having a drink to two." Tying a knot into the string he was tying, he looked back at her.
"Depends. What are we drinking to?" he asked cautiously, as she began to tear up again. Moving out of his way, as he began to prepare another body to be casketed, she sighed loudly and the father in him determined that it was something serious.
"To the fact that I can't have kids. I want them, but I was told that that probably isn't going to happen." she said weepy, as she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes before grabbing the casket and holding it as he swung the body lift over it and lowered the decedent into it, using that few silent moments to figure how he was going to address this.
"Are you sure?" he questioned, as she shook her head. He knew she had been having some medical problems, but he didn't think they were that serious. "What did the doctor say."
"That my symptoms sound like endometriosis and that if it is, I may never be able to have kids." she replied, as he looked at her, the desire to be a father for that split second and hold her creeping into his thoughts. "Even before I wanted to be a funeral director, I've wanted to be a mother. I don't think I've ever wanted anything else so bad before in my life. And now, that may all be taken away." she said, her voice just audible against the noise of the embalming fan.
Realizing that what he was doing, though important, was not as important as her at that moment in time, he nodded his head, picking just the right words so not to make her pain double or even triple. "Come on, let's head upstairs. I can finish this later. He's not being laid out until later tomorrow anyways." he said, as he ushered her in front of him out of the room, closing the door behind them as they went up to the residence. Pulling out two wine glasses, he sighed as they went into the living room and sat down on the couch. "Just because you may never be able to actually have kids, doesn't mean you still couldn't be a mother. There are tons of options out there for woman in your situation." he said gently as he passed her a glass of wine.
"But it wouldn't be the same," she said sadly, knowing that he was referring to adoption. "I just...I watch my girlfriend all excited about having a baby. How excited she is when he kicks and everything and I'm jealous because she's pregnant and I'm not. She didn't even try. She wasn't the one day and then the next she was. I tell the doctor that the only two things I ever fear is dying of cancer and not being able to have kids, and he tells me that the chances are good that I have some disease that nobody has a cure for. I mean, what the hell is that crap!" she cried, as he shakes his head. He's heard some of that rant before from his own beloved after their first miscarriage. Taking a sip of his wine, he sighs.
"It would be the same except the fact that you didn't wouldn't be giving that baby actual life. But you'd still love that child as if it was your own." he answered, as she looked up at him, her hand holding tightly to her glass. Tears were hanging off her lashes, and her eyes that were already red, were only getting redder as she continued to fight off her tears and failing.
"How would you know? You were able to have kids. You got to feel them when they kicked her. You were there when they were born. How do you know I'd make a good mother to a child that wasn't mine?" she asked, the wine starting to hit her as she began to cry. "What makes you think I could love something that isn't a hundred percent mine?" she whispered.
"Because I know. Because you care. Because you wouldn't give up just because you're told that you won't be able to have a child. Because it's you, and even though it would hurt at first, you'd fall in love with that child and love it and being a mom." he answered calmly as she released the stem of the glass and he took it away. "Besides, with modern medicine, who knows. You may find that he was wrong and you're able to have a baby without any trouble at all. You don't know." he added gently as she looked over at him. "You're young. You're going to worry about that, and you should. It's normal. But getting drunk and crying won't back much of a difference medically." he said, as she laughed slightly, and the hint of a small smile came across her face.
"I can see why you became a funeral director." she said, as she wiped her eyes. "You always know what to say to make someone feel better." she said, as she looked at him, a smile still on her face. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. But now, I'd say it's time for you to head home. There's a lot going on in the morning and I'm going to need to know you can be on the top of your game." he said, as she stood up and shook her head.
"Yes sir." she said, as she grabbed the empty wine glasses and carried them into the kitchen. "What time should I get here in the morning?" she questioned, as she headed for the door.
"Eight thirty if you could. Call when you get home please." he answered, as she nodded her head.
"I will. Good night sir." she said, as she pulled open the door and began to walk out, before she stopped and stuck her head around the corner of the door. "Sir?"
"Yes."
"Thank you." and with that, she was gone. Sighing, he leaned back on the couch and flipped on the news, waiting for her phone call to say she was home, safe and sound.
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