Empty

Jillian Stone stood in the silence of her closet, musty clothes piled around her feet, a careless collection from a week’s worth of indecisive mornings and lazy nights. The buzz of silence pressed in on her as she reached out to gently stroke the arm of a well-worn runners jacket still hanging from the bottom rack. Though the sensation of slick crinkles elicited a twinge of reminiscence, none of the typical joy reached her heart. Kneeling carefully down among the fallen wardrobe warriors, she rubbed at the cuff of the jacket and swallowed hard.  

This must be what numb feels like, she thought solemnly, examining a tear in the edge of the worn cuff. How absurdly melodramatic of me, she criticized, scrunching up her face in embarrassment. She dropped the cuff and glared down at her hands.

Normally having someone to blame, even if it was illogical, would provide some sense of relief in situations like this. She had been left with no choice, and it was all Dr. Linn’s fault. At least that is what the illogical part of herself kept screaming. As her brain screamed, all she felt was empty. It was a fitting sensation really, considering the state of things. She was after all void of life, not of her own, but of the non-existent baby’s. She continued to glare at her hands, silent tears running down her cheeks pooling inconveniently at her nose.

Ignoring the pile of already sullied clothes around her, she grabbed the cuff of the jacket and mindlessly wiped away the only evidence of her buried emotions.

She thought of Sean’s reaction. He had taken the news of “no, not pregnant” in stride, focusing instead on what Dr. Linn explained was truly growing inside Jillian’s belly.  Cysts weren't a foreign concept to Jillian, she had even gone through the exquisite pain of bursting a couple. She had never before, however, experienced growing a cyst large enough to induce a false state of pregnancy.

Dr. Linn’s resulting recommendation of exploratory surgery came as an unexpected and gut-wrenching surprise. Yes, she had explained, it could just be a normal functional cyst like the others, but it could also be an additional sign of a major menstrual disorder. They wouldn’t know until they went in and looked around. Jillian let the facts slide around in her mind. She wasn’t pregnant, she was growing a cyst. She was getting surgery. She may be infertile, but could be fine. That was it. She didn’t have any more information than that and she wouldn’t anytime soon. Not until the surgery was over.

Jillian closed her eyes, and curled up into a ball around the jacket cuff she still held. Laying there on the careless collection of what she now knew to be the evidence of a week’s worth of living in blissful ignorance, she cradled her empty belly with her free hand. The tears came faster now as the buried emotions rose to scratch at her throat and the back of her eyes.

Her body shaking with the effort of holding on to the emptiness, Jillian finally let go and allowed the pain and sorrow to consume her in a wave of gasping sobs. She gripped helplessly tighter to both the cuff of her mother’s old running jacket and the baby that never was.