Art & Soul
Page 63

Everything was a blur. It happened fast, faster than I thought it would, faster than I wanted it to. I was supposed to have a few more weeks with him. I wasn’t supposed to have to let go just yet.
The doctor told me to push.
Dad held my left hand.
Keira held my right.
Mom placed a wet napkin onto my forehead.
Simon’s dad tried his best not to faint.
I cried because of the pain. I cried because of the nerves. I cried because it was really happening.
I was angry. I was depressed. I was happy.
I was so freaking happy.
Push, Aria. Do this!
And then the room went silent. They told me to stop pushing.
Everything in my head started spinning. My baby was there, I could see him. But the doctor started hurrying. The nurses acted nervous. Everyone surrounded the baby. Except me. I was stuck in the bed, looking up, asking what was wrong, praying nothing was wrong.
He wasn’t crying. He was very silent. He was beautiful. Why wasn’t he crying?
Please. Make noise. Make a sound.
Say. Anything.
I cried for him until he could for himself.
And then he did.
His lungs finally moved. They became stronger as he screamed, proclaiming his arrival to the world.
Air.
Lungs.
In.
Out.
Breathe.
“Do you want to hold him?” the nurse asked.
I nodded my head.
Of course I do.
She placed him in my arms, and my tears fell against his skin.
I knew it was silly, but I swore he was smiling. My lips fell to his forehead. “I love you,” I softly spoke. “So, so much.”
My stare met Keira’s as she grinned my way. “Do you want to hold him?”
She sobbed and nodded. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
I handed him over to her, and she kissed my cheek. Paul stood beside his wife, staring down at the new life in their world. The way they studied every inch of him showed me how safe he was. He would always know love.
By then everyone in the room was crying.
I cried some more. From that point on, his tears would be wiped away by someone else. His laughter and happiness would be created from another’s soul.
But his heartbeats?
I felt sure I would always feel those against my own.
* * *
Levi.
I shot to my feet along with everyone else as Mr. and Mrs. Watson walked into the waiting room. “How’s Aria? How’s the baby?” I asked, frantic.
“Good. Good. Both Aria and the baby are doing great. A handsome seven pounds six ounces boy with ten fingers, ten toes, and a beautiful smile,” Mrs. Watson said. Simon released the breath he’d been holding for the past seven hours and hugged Abigail tightly.
I stepped closer to Aria’s parents. “Is she okay? Can I see her?”
Mrs. Watson frowned. “She’s resting, Levi. Plus, you’ve had quite the day. Maybe you should be resting, too.”
My shoulders dropped. “Yeah, okay.”
“Five minutes wouldn’t hurt, though,” Mr. Watson said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Come on, buddy.”
He walked me back to the room Aria was in, and I looked in to see her staring out the window.
“She’s not okay,” he said. “She’ll probably say she is, but she’s not, and she might not be for a while.”
I nodded in understanding.
“Just let her know that it’s okay to hurt a little, all right? I’ll be back to get you in a few.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked away.
With a slow pace, I stepped inside the room.
“Aria,” I whispered. I watched as her body curled up a bit, her response to the sound of my voice.
“If you want to see the baby, he’s in the room across the hall. The hospital has a room for the adopting parents to be with the baby. Isn’t that nice?” She didn’t look my way. Her eyes were still trained on the window.
“It’s okay to be sad,” I said, taking a step closer to her. She tensed up. “Please look at me.” But she wouldn’t look.
She couldn’t.
* * *
Aria.
“Art,” he whispered again, his words sounding so close I was almost positive they came from within my own soul. “Look at me.”
I couldn’t look.
I wouldn’t.
Even though all I wanted in the world was for his eyes to bring me the light. I wanted those lips to tell me that everything would be okay.
My need to cry grew heavier and heavier as my body shook, but I didn’t shed a tear. “I’m okay,” I finally said, feeling in every bone of my body that I wasn’t okay. I was empty inside. My light was gone. It was all so overwhelming, because no books had trained me for this. No books told me what it would be like to let go.
Levi’s hand landed on my shoulder before he climbed into the hospital bed and wrapped me up in his embrace. I shivered when I felt his fingers touch my skin for the first time in a long time as his arms wrapped around me.
“I’m fine.” My voice trembled as my body shook along with it.
“Shh…” he hushed me, holding me closer and closer. “I love you, Art. I love you so much. Let me be strong for us right now. Let me hold you while you fall apart.”
His touch was so warm.
The tears fell.
My body was shaking uncontrollably as Levi held on strong, refusing to let go. We stayed like that for five minutes straight, maybe even ten.
His fingers pressed into my sides as his face lay against my cheek. His warm tears intermixed with mine, and we cried. We cried for the recent death in our lives, and the new life. For the beginnings and the endings. For the first breaths, and the last.
I rotated my body to face him. His gaze searched my face, as if he was wondering where my mind had escaped to. His brow grew knit and gloomy.
“I’m so sorry, Art.” His lips hardened, and he pressed them to my forehead as he spoke. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too,” I said. “Me too.”
“We’ll be all right,” he promised me. “Just not today.”
45 Levi
Aria was in the hospital for the next two days. When Mr. and Mrs. Watson brought her home, I was waiting on her porch with my violin. I leaped up and hurried over to them.
She stepped out of the backseat and gave me a warily smile. She looked exhausted.
“Levi, hey. How are you?” Mrs. Watson grinned my way.