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One of Those Things

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The storage area under the stairs would have made a perfect nursery. We were going to paint the walls sky blue and fill them with little painted balloons with pictures of Disney characters on them. Simon had even given Jim the blueprints for a round cradle that would have made everyone in the lab swoon with envy.

The doctor said it was no one’s fault.

It was just one of those things.

Just one...

Neither one of us knows how to reach out to the other.

The silence between us is deafening.

A part of me needs Jim to tell me that he knows it wasn’t anything I did, that it truly was one of those things.

But he doesn’t.

I don’t think he can.

I just wish I could let go of this anger burning within me.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Jim doesn’t even blink when I ask him for a divorce. He simply nods and tells me to do whatever I need to do.

It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to slap him.

*-*-*-*-*-*

I can hear people whisper around the precinct. They say I left Jim. Which is true to a certain extent. What they don’t know is that Jim left me months before I moved out of the loft.

Simon and Trish make it a point not to take sides. They invite us both over to dinner. Separately. We talk about the Jags, about Darryl, and about the lab. We talk about everything except Jim.

One night, after Simon and I both have a little too much to drink, he tells me that Jim doesn’t blame me for the miscarriage.

Despite the nice buzz I had going, I felt like all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. Part of me wanted to stand and scream at the top of my lungs. Why couldn’t Jim tell me these words? Why couldn’t he…

But I knew why.

Acknowledging our loss would destroy him.

So I took another sip of my wine and quietly thanked Simon. When I got home, I laid down in bed and cried the tears I had never allowed myself to shed.

*-*-*-*-*-*

The court hearing was impersonal. We were on the rocket docket. Divorces which had been signed and sealed and simply needed the state’s approval. Because I was the Petitioner, I had to appear. Jim got the loft. We both got to keep our own pensions. I got to keep the Firebird and my rings. Simple. Civil.

My attorney and I walked down to the Clerk’s office. He gave me certified copies of my documents, shook my hand and wished me well.

After swearing I would never get divorced, I found myself standing at the top of the courthouse steps wondering just how in the hell I was going to move past this portion of my life. I closed my eyes and prayed for strength.

When I opened them, I found Jim standing at the bottom of the steps. Bile burned my tongue and I slowly closed the distance between us.

“It’s over?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes.”

His eyes searched mine for a moment. “It wasn’t your fault. Any of it.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. All I could do was nod as tears ran down my face. Jim wrapped his arms around me and held me tight and for just a moment, everything was all right.