Yesterwary

Demi lay on her side, gazing longingly at the wall as if it might reach out to hold her, while tears dampened her pillow. A cluster of glass jars rested on an elevated table at her side, connected by a network of red-filled, plastic tubes, which led to, and ended in, her arm. Bastian cradled in behind her, hand draped over her waist, and face buried in her hair.

“It’s okay,” he whispered tiredly, half for her comfort, half for his own. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Demi felt that she should have been sobbing, but silent tears were all she was strong enough to muster. She couldn’t make a sound for their lost child, which had never truly existed in the first place. She wondered why she had put herself through the last nine months. Of course it wouldn’t have turned out any differently for her than it had for anyone else. Why would it have? She wasn’t special.

“Hey,” Xander said from the doorway, knocking a couple times before letting himself in. He had waited a number of hours to see her, thinking it best to leave her alone with Bastian and their grief.

“Hey,” she whispered in return, throat dry and scratchy. Bastian had fallen asleep muttering into her hair.

“You okay?” Xander asked, pulling up a seat next to the bed.

“No,” she rasped, grasping his hand firmly in hers as more tears fell.

“You will be,” he assured. “You’re so much stronger than this place.”

“I’m not,” she countered. “I thought I was, but… I’m not.”

“You are,” he said firmly, sweeping a lock of hair from her eyes. “Yesterwary isn’t going to beat you. You won’t let it win.”

“It already has,” she said, emotion draining from her voice as she spoke her realization. “Everyone who is here has lost. We’ve lost everything… including ourselves. There’s nothing left for us.”

“That’s not true,” he said, warming her hand between his. “You have Bastian, and the restaurant. You have Cindy, and Kelly, and Jess, and Michael. You have me. You have so much more than nothing.”

Demi forced a grin through her tears and nodded into her pillow. And, for some unknown reason, she believed him.

“Hey, c’mon… Don’t look in there,” Bastian said, closing the door to the spare room and returning to Demi’s side to help her along.

They had converted the extra bedroom into the closest thing to a nursery for which Yesterwary could accommodate. The walls were lined with doodles that the children from the orphanage had drawn, after being told why Demi had become so very large. Bastian had put together a mobile of paper flowers, and hung it over the crib, which one of the restaurant’s frequent customers had insisted on building. A couple of the town-seamstresses had stitched together an array of stuffed animals, as well as a full wardrobe of onesies, caps, and socks, which seemed almost too small to fit any living thing. Demi and Bastian had not been the only ones to believe their house would be filled with the cries of the first baby born in Yesterwary, and now they wished their hopes hadn’t been so strong. The nursery was nothing more than a reminder of how dangerous hope could be.

But Demi was fine. At least, that was her response when Cindy and Kelly had visited her at the doctor’s house. That was her response when the carriage driver recognized her from the restaurant, and realized that he was picking them from the doctor’s without a baby in tow. And that would be her response until she found the strength somewhere inside herself to speak anything more truthful.

“Can I get anything for you?” Bastian asked, helping her into bed. She really didn’t need help getting around, but she could clearly see that he wanted to feel useful, so she clung gratefully to his arm.

“No, thank you,” she said sweetly, grinning up at him as he looked down from the bedside.

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten in days,” he said, brows slanted in concern.

“I’m fine,” she assured.

Bastian nodded, though he didn’t believe her, and glanced up at the sound of knocking from the front door.

“I’ll be right back,” he said cautiously, as if she might be worried he wouldn’t return.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she sighed, pulling the blanket up around her ears and curling into her pillow.

Demi could hear the sounds of voices from the first floor, but they were too muffled to recognize. She’d asked Bastian to inform everyone that she didn’t want visitors for a while, just in case anyone felt compelled to check on her well-being. But she didn’t mind the sight of the small face that poked in through the bedroom door.

“Demi?” a quiet voice squeaked, carefully inching closer to the bed.

“Michael,” Demi beamed, opening her arms as he reached her side.

He seemed almost scared to hug her, as if he might break her, but she pulled him in for a gentle embrace.

“You look sick,” he noted, pulling himself up to sit next to her at the edge of the bed.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m just tired. But I’m fine.”

Michael squinted at her suspiciously. “No, you’re not.”

Demi gazed at him for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I’m not. But I will be.”

Michael reached into a tattered leather satchel, which dangled from his side, and pulled out the book Demi had given him as a birthday gift. He flipped it open to the section that had been blank when he received it, and looked up to her.

“What’s that?” she asked, straining to see the pages.

“I made you a story,” he said.

Demi’s eyes crinkled and her face stretched into a smile of such happiness that she hadn’t felt in all of her time within Yesterwary.

“Read it to me.”

Michael stared down at his words intently. “Once upon a time, in a land not so far and different from here, there was a princess. She was wonderful, and brought happiness to all the people in the kingdom. But, one day, a dragon stole all her smiles. So her prince went off into the misty cave to fight the dragon. He stabbed it in the eyeball with a sword, and stole back the princess’ smiles, and returned happiness to her and the kingdom, and she was never sad again. The end.”

Demi grinned down at Michael, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” he said apologetically. “It’s supposed to be a happy story.”

“I know. I’m not crying because I’m sad,” she said, pulling him up into another hug. “That was lovely. Thank you.”

“Michael?” Moira called from the doorway. “We need to let her get some rest, now.”

Michael hopped off the bed. “Goodbye, Demi.”

Demi eye’s followed after him as he ran off through the door. Moira hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, staring at Demi with gut-wrenching pity. That exact look was the reason she hadn’t wanted any visitors.

“I’m fine,” Demi sighed.

With her head tilted to the side, Moira said, “Of course you are, dear.”

“It’s too soon for you to go back to work,” Bastian insisted, blocking Demi’s access to the bedroom door.

“Oh, it is not,” she huffed, staggering a bit as she tried to find a weak spot in the Bastian-barrier.

“It hasn’t even been a week. You need to rest.”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re in denial.”

“I’m not in denial, Bastian. I’m just quick to accept things that can’t be changed. We lost the baby,” she rambled, trying to prove that she was all right, but her voice caught in her throat as soon as she muttered the words. She hadn’t actually said them, until now.

Bastian was swift to catch her as her knees wobbled and she began to collapse to the floor in desperate tears.

“We lost the baby,” she repeated, sobbing.

“I know,” he whispered, hand cradling her head as they rocked on the floor and cried together.

“Come on,” he said, finding the strength within himself to compensate for the strength she had lost. He helped her to her feet, pulled back the covers, and curled up into bed with her. They continued to weep for the child they wished had existed, and they damned Yesterwary for the lost hopes of all who dared to have them.