On My Own

The morning began as most mornings did for Logan and Vera White. One of the triplets would wake before the others and start to cry and make a fuss.

Logan would pull a pillow over his head until guilt got the better of him and he went to get his girls out of their cribs, while the pregnant Vera went downstairs to start breakfast.

Logan had barely gotten the girls dressed when there was a clatter in the basement. "Vera?"

He called again, louder, when he heard no reply. He ran downstairs and saw her, crumpled on the floor. He shook her, called her name, and tried to do CPR.

It seemed like years had passed in the two hours since little Bridget cried to wake them up. In that time, Logan had called an ambulance as well as his mom and sisters, and everyone had arrived. 

Vera had gone into surgery, and Logan had heard nothing since. His daughters played. They had no idea what was happening. Logan was grateful that his sisters were watching the girls, because he could hardly string together sentences at the moment. He paced.

When Dr. Campbell came into the waiting room, Logan ran over to her. He tried to defend himself against the somber look on your face.

"Mr. White," the doctor said gravely. 

"How is she? When can I see her?"

"The surgery was successful. Your son is very, very lucky, but he is going to be okay."

"When can I see my wife?"

"You can see her soon. She lost a lot of blood, and she went into cardiac arrest twice. She hasn't regained consciousness."

"Are you saying she might not wake up?" Logan asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

That's exactly what she was saying. The doctor tried to distract Logan by taking him to see his new, healthy baby, a son. Logan named him Vincent, because that was what he and Vera had decided on months ago, if they had a boy. 

But when he looked at his new baby, he didn't feel anything. He didn't want another baby to begin with. Another pregnancy was something Vera had forced onto him. And now it seemed as though he would have to do this all alone.

Logan went to Vera's room and sat by her bedside for hours. He cried for some of them. "Please, don't leave me," he begged to a woman who couldn't hear him. "I can't do this on my own."

His only reply was the rhythmic beeping of machines.

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