Bruce Wagner - I Met Someone

“You’d be surprised. But let’s talk about you . And your loss.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it upset you that Dusty has a daughter?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, preparing to be offended.

“Well, the two of you have been trying. And now you’re dealing with the grief and I’m wondering if you feel alone in that process. If you resent Dusty for going off and looking for that other little girl.”

“Not really. I don’t think so. And she’s been great. She’s been there for me. I just think because — maybe because she’s older, it maybe didn’t affect her in the same way. Or maybe it did and that’s even a part of what motivated her to — you know, go looking for her kid. I mean, along with Reina’s death, maybe the miscarriage gave her another… push.”

“Let’s talk about the nightmares.”

“Usually, it’s the same one. I’m in bed sleeping and there’s a baby crying somewhere in the house. Kinda obvious, huh. And I just lay there trying to figure out where it is… you know, is it in the library? Is it in the living room? The laundry room? The kitchen? And I sort of start mapping out the house in my mind — going through each room. And my ears are, like, aching from trying to pinpoint it. Then I start to think, well, maybe it’s outside … by the pool or in the cabana. And the only thing that gives me some little form of comfort is that I know at least Dusty is with it. You know, Dusty’s taking care of it. And that’s , like, the moment in the dream where I can actually breathe. But then it occurs to me — and this is the shock and the horrible part! — that Dusty isn’t even home , she’s on location somewhere in Havana or wherever… and that’s when I hear the baby again and now it’s, like, screaming , it’s totally screaming. I mean, shrieking , right at the foot of the bed! And all this is happening, you know, with the incredible speed that shit happens in a dream. Like, the dream could be a half hour or could be, you know, like, three seconds . And I try to get up but I’m paralyzed — of course I am! I mean, what would a nightmare be without total paralysis, right? And I totally can’t move my arms or legs and the screams are getting louder and louder and that’s when I realize — this is the second horrible part — that this is how it’s going to be —you know, the baby screaming and screaming and maybe probably dying , and me just laying there listening to it — with both of us not being able to drink or eat, and no one finding us. And that’s just how it’s going to be … until Dusty comes home.”

—

Jeremy didn’t feel like going, but was compelled.

He wanted to be there for Allegra. And not just because he knew the loss of the child had put stress on her marriage; he didn’t want to sweep his own feelings under the rug either. He needed to fully honor the experience — the death — that had brought him to the emotional breakthrough of meeting with a surrogate. Still, it felt like his mourning period was on the wane, supplanted by the dream of trying again. Allegra’s seemed only to be beginning.

Yet who (he asked himself, with self-loathing malice) had suffered more? While an incubus cast its malevolent spell on the expectant mother’s womb, what had he been up to? Shopping online for designer onesies and pricey Belgian prams; immersed in the real estate porn of lazy river penthouse pools, private automobile elevators, and houses made of rammed earth; buying a car for his friendboy. Signing mass emails “Mrs. Dusty Wilding the Second.” (In preparation for going public with the birth announcement.) While they vacuumed out the little bones, he was having his Tesla detailed at Soho House…

The church basement support group reminded him of a scene from Fight Club . Sad, sad group of people! Like a small circle (and circle-jerk) of Hell: infinity loop of parents grieving over children unborn. The format wasn’t like A.A., where everyone did their three-minute spiel; it’d be tough to tell someone in the middle of a dead-baby crying jag that their time was up. They went on and on and on … Allegra fought back tears the entire hour while Jeremy zoned. He thought about sex with Tristen (he was always thinking about sex with his “twist”), about projects in various stages of development, about Devi and Sir… he’d been asked to dinner next week in Malibu, at the “pretty penny” house—

Emerging from his reverie, he caught the words of a mousy woman in her mid-thirties. The faint, decaying man beside her was apparently her husband.

“… and I just wonder when it’s going to end . I know even thinking that way is so selfish … I just worry that I’m living with too much pain — that it’s become an addiction, and that chemically , I’m becoming a different person . That I’m in this hole , and can’t climb out. Because this was almost two years ago and it feels like yesterday . Like today , it feels like today ! And a lot of people say that when we’re pregnant again, that’s when I’ll be able to — that’s when we’ll be able to move on. But a lot of them say the pain never goes away too… and I don’t want it to! I don’t want it to go away! Because that would be like losing our baby a second time ! They say that you… integrate it. But Calvin and I — we tried — and it’s — they said— so many doctors we went to said it was impossible for us to get pregnant… and that’s why Jarett really was a miracle baby. You always hear that, ‘miracle,’ but he was . He took eight years! So when he died… so I’m — we’re really looking at the possibility it may never happen. Again. And every time I think I’m okay with that, it brings me to my knees . But I actually felt better the other night. And this is so terrible , we were home watching Gravity and it got to the part where Sandra Bullock is telling George Clooney about how her little girl passed away. She said something like — she said it was something so stupid, like she slipped and hit her head on the curb, on the way to school. That’s what she said when she was talking about how her daughter died, she said, ‘It was the stupidest thing.’ And I actually felt better for a little while because I thought, That can never happen to Jarett . You know — he can never grow up and have something awful like that happen to him, like fall and hit his head on the way to school. And die. That cannot happen to him ever . And I just — that made me feel so small! That Sandra Bullock’s grief, even though she was just a character … that it would make me feel good to hear that, made me—”

She convulsed in tears while pathetic Calvin stroked her back.

Proletariat regurgitation of sentimental pop-cult movie moments was one of Jeremy’s bêtes noires. Watercooler snippets from the national conversation always gave him the creeps — and made him feel like a schmuck for being one of the “content providers” to the scary, useless, brain-damaged world.

—

“Well, that was a supposedly fun thing I’ll never do again,” said Jeremy.

They were back at Soho House, where he seemed to live.

“Thank you for coming. I know it bummed you out, but I really appreciated it.”

“Oh please,” he said, reversing himself. “I wanted to. It was actually kind of beautiful. Depressing but beautiful. I mean, we’re suddenly in this tribe . It’s a fucked-up tribe, but it’s ours . I guess!”