Maybe Never

This story is by Rose Rune and was part of our 2024 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

“I had a meeting with my boss today,” Rowan said as he sat down at the dining room table where Lauren was waiting.

His auburn hair glinted in the light and he still wore his glasses and the blue button down he’d worn to work earlier. He’d rolled up the sleeves and she could see his muscular forearms.

“How did it go?” Lauren asked, knowing that courtesy was expected.

He gestured at Lauren to serve herself first. She hesitated. He’d cooked dinner. And set the table. And bought the ingredients.

“Please,” he said, motioning again.

Lauren grabbed a heap of steaming spaghetti, ready to drown in carbs. Despite not having stepped on the scale in months, she knew the number was way up, but Rowan hadn’t ever said a word, never made her feel less beautiful.

And that was saying a lot considering she still wore parts of her breakfast on her decade’s old sweatshirt and the split ends in her blonde hair were longer than the angel hair pasta she was shoving in her mouth.

“He offered me a new position. Better pay, a larger team, more in line with my skills,” he said.

“That’s great, Rowe,” Lauren said, trying for a light tone.

She didn’t dwell on the fact that before, Rowan would’ve called her immediately after the meeting. She would’ve rushed home from work early so they could go out and celebrate.

“Well, there’s a caveat to it,” he said.

His voice was hesitant and she stilled. Rowan stared at his plate for a second before he explained.

“It’s in Boston,” he said.

“No,” she said.

“Lauren,” Rowan started.

“No,” she said, getting up, abandoning the food and leaving the dining room.

She plopped herself on the couch where spent fifteen hours a day staring at the wall. When it was nighttime she moved to the bed and did the same thing.

“We can’t leave,” she said.

“Lauren, please. I don’t know what else to do,” he said. “You can’t live like this.”

“And how am I supposed to live Rowan? Like you? Move on like it never happened?”

He reared back.

“It was my baby too, Lauren.”

“You didn’t carry him for six months and almost bleed to death,” she snapped at him.

Rowan didn’t understand. No one did.

They’d tried for so goddamn long and it had taken so much effort to get that single embryo. This would’ve been his home. Not Boston.

Rowan came over and sat on the couch, grabbing her hand. Even when she tried to fight him and stay disconnected from him, he didn’t give up.

“Lauren, it’s okay to grieve. You can be sad forever. But I miss you. I miss you even though you’re right in front of me and I need you too.”

“I can’t talk about this right now,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “Please leave me alone.”

Rowan sighed, but he got up and she heard him putting away the uneaten food and washing the dishes. When he was done, he came into the room and picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom. He settled her gently on the bed and cozied up behind her, stroking her hair.

“It’s okay. We’re not going anywhere,” he whispered.

Lauren didn’t respond, but his comforting presence lulled her to sleep.

The next morning when she woke up, it was after ten and Rowan had already left for work. She rolled over on her back and groaned.

She had to pee but couldn’t be bothered to get up and take care of business. What would happen if she pissed her pants? Would Rowan finally leave then?

“Ugh,” she spat out loud.

Were things so dire she was considering soiling herself like a toddler? No.

She rolled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom door, her legs like lead. It was like this every morning. She stood frozen for several minutes and her breaths came in fast and shallow as the memories washed over her.

They’d been running to the grocery store before her parents came over for lunch. She’d wanted to pee before they left. She’d rushed in, ripped her pants off and sat down. Except, her underwear had been soaked.

Turned out it was blood. Now that bright red was all she saw every time she went in that room.

Because of it, she vacillated between wanting to burn this place down and curling into a ball on the floor and becoming one with the scene of the crime. This was why she couldn’t work anymore. She couldn’t think past the tragedy.

She wavered between never wanting to be reminded of the experience again and wanting to tattoo it across her forehead.

Finishing her business, she washed her hands and brushed her teeth. Halfway through though, her mom called. Lauren tapped at the green button on her watch, not really sure where her phone was.

“Yes?” she asked, around a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Your sister’s getting married.”

Lauren spit the toothpaste out all over the mirror and the counter tops. She hadn’t even known her sister had a serious boyfriend.

“Fuck,” she said.

“That’s what you have to say?” her mother asked, a dead calm in her voice.

Lauren tried to correct her mother, to tell her that it was the mess and not the news that had Lauren swearing but Jean Westwood was a force.

“Lauren Vivianne Westwood,” she started.

“Collins,” Lauren corrected on autopilot.

“You are my daughter; I will call you by your given name if I please. Now, as I was saying. I know you’re going through a hard time, but your little sister is getting married and she was too scared to tell you because she was worried how it would affect you.” Her mother paused but Lauren said nothing.

“But guess what, you weren’t my first pregnancy either so I know a little somethin’ about how you feel. And let me tell you baby girl, while you had a harder time than most even getting to that point, you sure as hell aren’t going to have another baby mopin’ around all damn day.

“Now you have a choice. You can get in the shower for probably the first time this week and go over to your sister’s house and congratulate her properly and maybe rejoin the land of the living or you can go back to bed and wallow in self-pity and possibly throw away the rest of your life. What’s it gonna be?”

Lauren’s jaw dropped and whatever was left of her toothpaste slowly dripped out of her mouth and down her chin.

The nerve of that woman. Lauren was about to tell her to go fuck herself but her mother spoke again.

“We tried this Rowan’s way but I’m done with that. That hasn’t gotten us anywhere. Pick. Yourself. The. Hell. Back. Up.”

Her mother’s words were a fierce command, a march Lauren almost followed.

But the fog in her brain was so strong it was hard to breathe, let alone plot a course of action. Shower. See her sister. Say nice things. It was too much.

Lauren hit the red end button on her watch and sank to the floor with her back to the sink.

Her watch buzzed again. And again. No doubt her mom calling her back. Lauren put her hands to her ears and rocked back and forth. What to do. What to do. She was losing it.

Eventually she heard the garage opening and Rowan shouting her name as he ran through the house.

“Hey, sweetie, are you okay? Your mom called,” he said, kneeling down in front of her when he finally found her.

He started checking her body over like he would find an injury, but she stopped him.

“It’s okay, Rowe,” she said.

He frowned.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Lauren said, swallowing. This was it. She had to do it. For Rowan. For their baby boy who’d never get these opportunities. “Actually, I’ve made a decision.”

Rowan cocked his head, waiting.

“I need to take a shower,” she said.

Rowan’s nose scrunched up in even more confusion.

“What?”

“A shower. And then I have to get dressed so I can go get my sister an engagement gift.”

“Lauren…”

“No, really. My mom was harsh, but she was right. My sister is my best friend and I didn’t even know she was in a relationship.” she said.

“Are you sure?” Rowan asked. “You haven’t left the house since…”

She saw how much he loved her, how much hope shone in his eyes and how fragile it was too. She nodded.

“Yeah, I’m positive.”

Rowan beamed, pure joy radiating from him before he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a kiss on top of her greasy, matted hair.

“Maybe one day Boston,” she murmured against his solid frame.

His arms tightened.

“Maybe never and that would be okay too.”