Chapter Nine
Tabitha
CHRISTMAS BREAK HAS BEEN UNBELIEVABLE. Mom, Dad, and Phil are beyond excited to have a grandchild on the way. Most of my gifts have been baby or school related. I am in want of absolutely nothing. It’s unreal how supportive my family is. I can’t believe I doubted them. They were excited from the very second I told them I was pregnant. Having endless love and support makes the whole experience less frightening. I have no doubt in mind about whether I can do this.
I still haven’t called Mathew’s mom, because she stopped being a mother when she left Phil. The woman was never that maternal. I can’t even imagine being like that. You would think that having that special mother child bond was ingrained in our DNA. I haven’t even given birth to my baby, and I’m already consumed with how much I love them.
I spent the first three days of break with my parents, but the rest will be spent with my friends and Phil. Mom and Dad planned a six-week cruise, so we celebrated Christmas early before they left.
I got to Facetime with Mathew for a little bit, a couple of days before we left for break. Communication was slow in the beginning, but now it’s getting more frequent. It’s been nice seeing his face every couple weeks. It makes this separation hurt a lot less, even though it still stings my heart every time we have to end the call. It still sucks that we don’t get to spend any time with him during the holidays. He was glad to hear that his dad was not going to have to spend Christmas alone, because I was planning to follow him around everywhere. I could have stayed at my house without my parents, but I chose to stay in Mathew’s room at his dad’s house.
Phil’s been an excellent host, even though he keeps saying I’m not actually a guest, but family. I think he expects us to move in once the baby is born. He painted the guest room yellow a few weeks ago, and there’s a box for a crib leaned up against the hallway wall. He was able to get two weeks off for Christmas, so I would stay with him.
Phil is a terrible cook. After suffering through some pretty scary food experiences, I’ve taken over all meal prep for the remainder of break. I am surprised he and Mathew even survived as long as they have with the way Phil cooks, but then again I remember that Mathew is actually pretty good at it.
Phil was all too willing to let me take over the kitchen duties during my stay. I even made several casseroles to wrap up and store in his deep freeze, and attached a little cheat sheet telling him how long to heat them up. He should be set for a while. I love my future father-in-law. It’s too soon before he’ll have to go back to work, and I have to return to school.
When Phil goes back to work, I’ll be moving into an affordable four-bedroom apartment right near campus that Beth, Steve, and I found. John and Brandon said they may stop in to help with the move. They tried to exclude me from moving day because I’m pregnant, but I refused. The doctor said that as long as I don’t lift any furniture, I could help with the boxes. I plan to do just that. They treat me like I’m fragile.
Phil and I are sitting on the couch watching my absolute favorite Christmas movie of all time, A Year Without Santa Claus. Snow Miser is doing his epic little dance number, and Phil and I are goofing off, singing along. We’re throwing popcorn at each other, so we can take turns trying to catch it in our mouths. Phil catches it almost every time. And me? Yeah, not so much. Phil may have replaced everyone else as my favorite movie buddy. Neither one of us has stopped smiling since the movie began. My cheeks ache from being stretched so long.
When there’s a knock on the door, we exchange curious looks. Someone knocking on the door right now is a little strange, because it’s ten-thirty at night. In Monroe, you don’t go visiting past eight o’clock in the evening without calling first. Nobody called to say they were headed over, so we are completely surprised to receive a guest so late. I start to get up to answer the door, but Phil pulls me back down on the couch and tells me he’ll get it. I nod, then hit pause on the movie just before Heat Miser gets a chance to sing his song. Phil runs to get the door. I crane my neck to try to hear the conversation happening at the door, but all I hear are muffled voices.
When Phil returns, I’m confused by the sudden shift in his mood. I’ve never seen him look this way before. He looks broken, and every possible scenario runs through my head.
Did something go wrong with my parents’ flight, or their cruise?
Oh God, what if something happened to Mathew?
“Phil…what’s wrong?” I ask cautiously. I’m suddenly on high alert, because so many things could be wrong right now, and he’s trying not to look me in the eyes. “Phil?”
I stand up from the couch and slowly walk closer to him. He just stands there silently, not talking, and unable to look in my direction.
“Phil? You’re really starting to scare me.”
He finally looks up and there are tears in his eyes. He stares past me, but is still unable to speak. I grab his shoulders and shake him, hoping to snap him out of his current state, so I can get some answers. He trembles, so I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him in for a hug. He hugs me back, and that gives me a tiny sliver of comfort.
“He’s gone, Tabby,” he whispers emotionlessly into my hair. I almost don’t hear it.
My blood runs cold. “What do you mean, ‘he’s gone’?” I pull away so I can see his face when he speaks.
“Matt didn’t make it, Tabs, they said he’s dead,” he sobs.
I shake my head in disbelief as my heart shatters across my chest. “No.”
I continue to back away more, shaking my head, as he slides to the floor wracked with sobs.
“He can’t be. He has to come back. He. Promised!” I shriek. Tears are pouring down my face, and I can hardly breathe through my stuttered breaths. The walls close in around me, and chills run rampant across my body. “H-How can he not make it?”
Phil looks up at me, his face red. Tears have stained his handsome cheeks. “They said a bomb hit the vehicle he was traveling in. They couldn’t find any survivors. Nobody made it. All of their bodies, God, their bodies.” He shakes his head as he whispers, then he looks back up, pain-stricken. “All of their bodies were burned beyond recognition.”
I can’t accept this. His words, I refuse to let them sink in. My entire world falls away around me. I continue to walk backward to get as far away from Phil and the words he’s speaking as I can. His shoulders shake violently and he sobs harder as he sits on the floor. He’s hunched over with his arms rested on his bent knees. I’m stopped from backing up further when the back of my legs hit the glass coffee table. Distraught, I’m not paying attention, so I try backing away more, but the table causes me to lose my balance, and I fall back on top of it. The table shatters loudly, but it sounds like it could also be far away. Glass pierces my back, my sides, and the back of my neck. Phil jumps up, his grief forgotten, and rushes toward me.
“Tabby!” He looks me over to make sure I’m okay, but then touches a piece of glass that’s sticking out of my side. He turns pale, and terror shades the look in his eyes. “Please, don’t move, sweetheart. I’m going to run and grab the phone. We need an ambulance. Don’t. Move,” he warns calmly, then turns and runs from the room, leaving me alone.
I’m scared, but the pain in my heart far outweighs the pain in my side. I’m overcome by shock, but I don’t move. Phil told me not to move.
Then a cramp pierces my abdomen. I try to remain still like I was told to do, but the cramp in my stomach makes me want to arch forward. I try to move a little bit, but the glass in my side feels like it goes in deeper. Everything inside me feels like it’s being ripped apart. I want to curl up, but I can’t. I want to go to sleep, but I probably shouldn’t. I want to scream, but I’m too afraid to.
I’m not supposed to move. I keep telling myself not to move, just in case I forget.
I am surrounded by glass. It’s slicing at my soft skin, and I can’t handle the cramps that are frying the last of my nerves. My leggings feel damp near my thighs, and the cramps are only getting worse. I don’t know if I’m bleeding, sweating, or if I just peed myself. I’m afraid to look. Besides, I’m not supposed to move. Phil said not to move.
I’m losing everything. The tears won’t stop leaking down my face and into my ears and hair. I can’t breathe. I hurt everywhere. My outsides are cut and bruising, and my insides are crushed. I’m hyperventilating. I can’t breathe. Everything around me is going fuzzy.
Phil comes running into the room. He’s got a phone pushed up against his ear. He talks frantically to the person on the other end, but I can’t hear anything he’s saying behind the buzzing in my head. He keeps glancing down at me. He looks concerned. No, he looks terrified. I want to get up to make sure he’s okay, but I can’t. My muscles don’t work. Blurry spots dot in front of my eyes, and the room gets darker. I flutter my eyelashes to try to knock the spots free and clear my vision. The phone falls from Phil’s hand onto the floor.
“God! Shit, Tabby!” he cries out as he rushes over to my side.
I want to tell him there’s broken glass and not to get too close, because he’ll get cut. No words come out. His lips are moving, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. It sounds like my head has been shoved underwater. The room shudders from black to Phil’s horrified expression. I want to touch the side of his face. I want to tell him it’s okay, but I close my eyes instead. Maybe I just need to sleep for a little bit. I can’t do anything else. I’m not supposed to move.
Phil told me not to move.