Trials (Rock Bottom) (15 page)

At this moment, I really hate Jeremy Mason. I want to kill him. I want to physically harm him the way he indirectly is harming me right now.

I scream as he walks back into our bedroom, carrying a suitcase and overnight bag. “Rich said he’ll be here any minute,” he says to me, panic filling his voice.

“Now!” I scream at him. I can’t think about anything but the searing pain. I pick up a brush from the bedside table and fling it at his face. He ducks, just avoiding it. “Honey, I’m sorry. I promise, any minute,” he insists, holding his hands up in surrender.

I feel the pain building again, the clutching of my muscles coming closer and closer together. I scream in agony. Jeremy drops the suitcase and bag
, and runs over to my side.

“Don’t fucking touch me Jeremy Mason!” I scream, pushing his hand away from my arm. I look up at him when he doesn’t say anything and see him flashing me a soft, lovely smile. I don’t care. I still hate him right now.
I think…

“That’s Jeremy
Ackhart to you,” he laughs.

I give him an evil stare.

“Sorry. I’m just so excited. I just can’t…I just…I’m so happy,” he whispers to me. The pain subsides and so does the anger clenching my heart. I manage to smile back at him and run my hand along his face.

“Sorry I’m such a bitch right now.”

“It’s okay. Bitch away, dear. I couldn’t imagine being you right now. The pain in my stomach from withdrawal was bad enough. This must be terrible. I’m here for your abuse,” he reassures me.

I am still in disbelief at the way Jeremy has been since I moved in with him months ago, after he found out I was pregnant. He’s been so attentive and warm. He barely allowed me to do anything. He picked up after me, cooked for me every night, and waited on me hand and foot. He even planned our whole beautiful wedding, held in an outdoor garden
here in Boston.

Jeremy’s phone rings just as the pain in my abdomen starts again. I try to remember those stupid breathing techniques, but they just don’t work. As I scream again, I’m cursing the time I wasted in those damn classes.
Jeremy answers the phone, getting up to walk to the end of the bed and putting his finger in his other ear so he can hear over my ear-piercing howling. “Rich? Outside? Okay!”

Jeremy ends the call and turns to me, rubbing my leg in comfort until my screaming stops. “Dylan? It’s time to go.”

I’m still clenching my jaw against the pain. “Go fuck yourself!”

He picks up the bags on the floor and throws them over his shoulders. “No, that’s what I have you for.”

“Not funny!” I scream, clutching my stomach.

He walks over to my side of the bed and
pulls me up by my arms. He places one arm behind my back, trying to help me walk. We must look like quite a pair. Especially with him being overloaded with bags and attempting to basically carry his fat, pregnant wife down the stairs. If someone would have told me either one of us would have been here a year ago, I would have laughed in their face.

Midway down the stairs, of course, the pain starts again in my stomach. I feel it building more and more, clenching harder and harder. I stop walking before I take a tumble, grabbing onto Jeremy and the railing as my knees buckle. I scream and Jeremy grabs me tighter to hold me up. “I’m sorry,” he
croons to me.

Before I begin to move again, I feel a gush of water trickling down my legs. At first I’m afraid I’m actually peeing myself, but the flowing doesn’t stop. It keeps coming and coming, down the stairs and pooling on the floor at the bottom.

We both freeze and stare silently towards the floor for a moment. “Oh my God,” I whisper. We turn to look at each other. Jeremy’s expression is calm, but the color has left his face.

“Okay, honey. We have to really get moving now, okay? It’s going to be okay,” he reassures me as we walk a bit faster down the stairs.

I begin to cry, overcome with stress and hormones. “I’m scared!” I yell. We reach the door and Jeremy manages to throw it open without dropping either of the bags. “It’s going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen,” he says, helping me onto the stairway outside and shutting the door behind him. Rich meets us on the first step, taking the bags from Jeremy. Jeremy wraps his arm around my waist, the other holding my hand as he helps me down the stairs.

I’m surprised to see one or two paparazzi across the street from our home, snapping pictures lazily as we walk toward our black car. I think for a moment about how different they’ve become since Jeremy has lost his mega-celebrity status. Two years ago, they would be attacking us from all sides, blocking my entrance from the car. I wonder idly if there will be a time when there won’t be anyone outside anymore.

My thoughts are cut short as we settle ourselves in the backseat and Rich climbs into the front, starting the car. The pain begins to build again. Each time I think there is no way it could be worse than the time before, and each time it is. The pain is so searing, my sight blackens for a moment. I don’t scream this time. I shake in pain as if I’m seizing and grunt a low, feral sound. Jeremy tightens his grip around me and I can feel his breathing increase.

“Rich!” he yells, knocking hard on the back of the driver’s seat. “Step on it, dammit!” I can tell he’s trying very hard to keep control.

The pain finally subsides again. My muscles ache with the exertion. I feel like I’ve done a thousand sit-ups. Sweat pours down my face, my hair matted to my head. I feel disgusting. I’m wet from head to toe, especially in my underwear.

I reach down under my d
ress and shimmy out of my maternity underwear, tossing them aside on the floor of the car. I know it’s probably disgusting but I don’t care at this moment. I feel instantly better without them weighing me down, but I notice the pressure in my pelvis has increased since we left the house.

I feel my stomach muscles tightening. “Oh no!” I moan. “No!”

Jeremy tightens his grip on me again. “It’s okay, baby. Just breathe. In and…”

“Shut the fuck up!” I scream. The pressure in my pelvis increases ten-fold. “Jeremy,” I moan, leaning back on the seat. “I have to push!”

“No!” he yells at me. “Just hang on a little more, baby. Just a little more.”

“I can’t!” I yell. I will myself not to bear down as the pressure increases.

“Rich, how much longer, damn you?!” Jeremy yells angrily at Rich. I would reprimand him, but I’m not in my right mind. And I’m sure he’s just as scared as I am.

“Five minutes,” Rich yells to the backseat.

Jeremy releases his grip on me and bangs hard on the seat. “Five fucking minutes? Are you crazy, man?”

“Sorry, boss. There was an accident. I had to take a detour.”

Jeremy looks at me in fear as the contraction passes. I return his look. I managed not to push this time, but they are coming every thirty seconds to a minute or so, and I know I won’t be able to hang on for much longer. Jeremy nods, accepting the situation. “Okay,” he sighs. He takes off his white shirt and leans me back on the seat.

“Oh God! What are you doing?” I moan. I lay down anyway. It feels so good. I’m exhausted.

He pushes my dress up and scoots the shirt under my bottom. “Oh my God,” he mutters. “Baby, I see his head.”

I feel the panic rise in my throat. “No!” I cry, moving around. “No! Please! I’m scared!”

“Calm down!” Jeremy tells me, in his soft melodic voice. “It’s going to be okay. Rich, give me your shirt, man. And don’t you dare stop driving,” he warns him. Rich manages to wiggle out of his massive shirt and hand it back to Jeremy.

I feel tingling begin in my lower abdomen. Tears stream down my face. “Jeremy? I’m going to contract.”

I can see over my dress enough to see a terrified expression on his face. “Alright, baby. Try to hold out. But if you can’t, then push. Okay?”

I nod as Jeremy sits Rich’s shirt on his lap. As the pain comes harder and harder, I feel the pressure in my pelvis more than ever before. I bear down almost instinctually, pushing with all my might. I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of their sockets.

“Breathe!” Jeremy yells, startling me into exhaling. I breathe out slowly, still pushing.

“Okay!” Jeremy says. I lean back and moan. “His head is out. Next will be the shoulders.
”

“Two minutes man,” Rich says, calmly.

“Is he okay?” I pant simultaneously. Jeremy gives me a small smile. “He’s beautiful,” he sighs. “You’re doing great. Everything is okay.”

I feel the need to push again already. “I’m
going to push again in a second, okay?” I warn him. My mouth is dry and I don’t think I can push anymore, but I know I need to.

Jeremy bows his head, letting it fall towards his lap. “Please, God,” he whispers. “Please. Please! I know I’
ve been a fuck-up. But please help me. Help my wife. Help my son. I swear I’ll never do another drug again. I’ll be the man I’m supposed to be. I’ll be a good man. Just help my wife and son. Jonathan, help me.”

My heart is breaking but the need has grown unbearable. I scream and bear down, my chin to my chest. I see Jeremy’s head snap up, a determined look in his eye,
and reach his hands between my legs. I feel a strange pulling and the pressure subsiding as the baby is pulled free.

I throw my head back as I struggle to keep consciousness. “Is he,” I mumble. “Is he okay?” Jeremy doesn’t answer, and I see through my half-opened eyes his wrestling with the tiny infant in his arms. “Jeremy?” I ask louder, with all my strength.

“Come on!” he yells, his finger moving around in the baby’s mouth. “Please!” he yells in frustration.

“What’s going on?” I yell again.

“He’s not breathing!” Jeremy yells, flipping the infant over and tapping his back at even intervals. My breathing increases and the stress overtakes me. Just before the darkness consumes me, I hear Jeremy breathe a sigh of relief and a baby’s loud, boisterous cry.

“Dylan?” he asks, but I’
ve already gone under.

I swear, if I have to pick up one more toy!

There is no way I’m going to be able to look over those contracts in time and keep my house clean. I throw the last block into the bin and give up, deciding to make my way to the kitchen table to finish my work and worry about the house later.

Just as I sit down at the table and pick up the contract, a block hits me hard on the back of my head. I turn around quickly and see my smiling two-year-old standing behind me. “Jonathan…” I scold, trying to sound mad. He smiles and stares up at me with his devastating blue eyes, a little Jeremy reincarnate.

“Play blocks, Momma…” he begs. I run my fingers through his unruly blonde hair and walk over to the playroom, sitting on the floor in defeat as Jonny walks his bin of blocks over and dumps them on the floor again. He picks up a few blocks and begins to build a simple tower, instructing me on how to put my blocks carefully on the top. A few moments later, we hear the front door open.

“DADDY!” Jonathan screams, taking off in such a rush he knocks the tower over. I turn my head over my shoulder just in time to see Jeremy scoop Jonathan up in his arms and throw him into the air. He gives him a long kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, buddy. Did you miss Daddy?” he says, running his finger through Jonathan
’s hair.

“Yes, Daddy. My Daddy!” he yells, throwing his arms around Jeremy’s neck. It’s still a bit weird to see Jeremy dressed so professionally, a suit and tie, but I’m not complaining. I look him up and down until he’s able to put Jonathan down.

“Mr. Ackhart,” I say, standing up and smiling seductively.

“Mrs. Ackhart,” he coos, strutting over to me. He’s still got his strut.

“How was your day?” I whisper as he wraps his arms around me. “Did the recording go well?”

He smiles. “Yes, but the producers want the music in record time. I have to get on writing the rest of the score.”

“You’ll get it done. You always do.” I think Jeremy really found his calling in writing movie scores. It comes so easily to him, as if writing a symphony is as easy as breathing. To him, it probably is.

“Did you get to look over the contract for the next movie?” he asks me, releasing me and struggling out of his jacket. His statement amuses me. Who would have thought I would have e
nded up being a contract lawyer after all? But, when your husband is your boss, work isn’t so bad. I like the, ahem, bonuses I get. Plus, I get to stay home with Jonathan.

I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him, I wasn’t going
to be able to work full time. I couldn’t leave him. I wanted to be around him all the time. Even though Jeremy lost his contract and soon afterword the fandom died down and a new star rose, he was still extremely wealthy. So I never had to worry about working, anyway. And really, neither does he.

But he just loves the music. It’s how he speaks to the world. And he has so many beautiful things to say.

“Pianooooooo!!! Daddy, piano!!” Jonathan yells. Jeremy’s love of music has rubbed off on Jonathan, and more than a little bit. Since he was an infant, Jonathan’s favorite thing to do is listen to his Daddy play the piano. He much prefers piano to guitar.

Jeremy walks over to the piano without
a second thought, constantly feeding into Jonny’s demands. I’ve told him before if he turns out to be a spoiled brat, it’s nowhere near my fault. But how can I deny him the opportunity to spoil his child, who looks so much like him, the way he wasn’t able to be spoiled?

Jeremy takes a seat on the black and silver piano’s bench, placing his feet on the petals delicately.

“Heaven, peas,” Jonathan begs. He loves that song. So do I. It’s the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard, even now. Jeremy begins to play the song, slowly and full of passion. Jonathan watches in awe.

Seeing them together makes my heart swell. I just think about how easily our lives could have been very different. What if Jeremy had gone to trial all those years ago and lost? What if he had lost the battle with drugs? Really, what if any of the trials we have faced throughout our whole relationship had turned out differently?

I know one day we’ll probably have to face another series of trials. But this time I’m confident that we can make it through them together. Jeremy has kept the promises he made the night Jonathan was born. I’ve never been so in love or happy. There’s no doubt in my mind anymore, just as there had never been a doubt in my heart.

Jeremy finishes the song and Jonathan claps wildly. When Jeremy stands up, Jonathan immediately stops clapping and gives him an angry look. “No, no!” he screams. “Piano,” he says, pointing his little finger at the bench.

“I have to get changed, dude. Give me a couple minutes?”

I smile and walk into the kitchen, taking the opportunity of Jonny’s distraction to throw some dishes in the sink. I see the milk left out on the counter and roll my eyes, walking to the fridge to put it back in before it spoils. I stop when I reach the refrigerator door. I smile at the newspaper clipping showing Scott’s huge wedding in Huston, his blushing bride dashing in her white gown. I have been in very brief contact with Scott over the years, with Jeremy
’s blessing, and am thrilled that he’s happy and successful. I also mentally scold myself when I see the invitation to Theresa’s baby shower for her second child that I have yet to RSVP. Will my life ever slow down?

I throw the milk in the fridge when I hear short but lovely cords coming from the piano. I smile. “He’ll never learn the word ‘no’ if you keep giving into him!” I yell. Another chord chimes, three notes in perfect harmony. I hear Jonathan squeal in delight.

“What?” I hear Jeremy’s voice calling from upstairs. I freeze in confusion. Another cord sounds, three more keys in unison.

“Are you upstairs?” I call. I hear footsteps coming down the stairway and see Jeremy walk into the kitchen. He’s changed into casual clothes.

“Yeah, sorry. What do you need, baby?” my mouth gapes for a moment before two chords play, one after another, again in harmony. Jonathan claps happily. Jeremy furrows his eyebrows in confusion and we both walk quietly towards the living room, peering around the doorway.

We see Jonathan sitting at the piano, running his small hands over the keys. He cocks his small head to the side before two fingers on his right hand and one finger on his left hand fall down onto three keys, again playing them in harmony. A beautiful cord fills the house as Jonathan giggles. “Music!” he laughs, playing another cord.

My heart stops in my chest and I hear Jeremy stop breathing. We both look at each other in shock and then back at our small son. “Well,” I finally whisper. “This is unexpected.”

“Oh no,” Jeremy sighs. “Not him.”

I put my arm around his body. “It’s okay. It’s wonderful. He’s talented, like you. But we’ll deal with this the right way. Not the way your parents did,” I whisper, hugging him tighter in comfort. He sighs heavily.

Jonathan is playing his cords more rapidly now. His giggles are so jovial and his face so bright with wonder. “Look how happy he is. Look how much he loves it.”

I feel Jeremy nod. “Hey, buddy,” he says, softly. Jonathan jumps and turns his little body around. His face is concerned, as if he doesn’t know how we’ll react. “You want me to show you a song?”

Jonathan bounces on his seat, clapping. Jeremy walks over and sits next to him, talking in a hushed voice.

I sit on the floor by the doorway and watch them play, fixing this moment into my memory forever. I don’t think about the discovery of Jonathan’s talents, I don’t think about the contracts or the dishes, and I don’t think about the past or future. I try to live in the right now, because right now I have everything I could want. It was a struggle to get here, but nothing wonderful is ever easy.  Even if it’s not perfect, it’s still my version of heaven.

“
Sing me a love song,”
Jeremy sings, turning around to look at me. Our eyes lock. “
Sing me to heaven.”

The End