Mary

Mary

by Kevin S. McFadden

Oh shit.

What?

I think it-

What?

I think it broke.

What?

I think-

Get the fuck out of me!

Elizabeth

I think it was the most tragic moment of my life, something I'm not going to forget, ever. I'll try to remember and it's like everything is in slow motion, me knowing something was going to happen, but not being able to help, to hold her back, she standing there by herself, the sunlight, the smoke from the grill, the grass. The day seemed so perfect that it was almost painted with disaster. Like how perfection seems sometimes to be hiding something underneath, and that something is more horrible than a bad thing you can see, you know? For those two months previous, Mary had gone through every possible mood change you could go through, refusing any help or advice, even scorning it, before making up her mind as to what she was going to do. Delia just kept saying that she's milking this for all its worth and she needs to just do something and get over it goddamnit. Maybe Delia wasn't that harsh and maybe I'm assigning blame to her in light of everything, but if it was up to me we would have shown more concern. I know Mary would cry for attention sometimes, but this time was obviously so different. These were real problems, even if she handled them a bit immaturely at times. And then at times she seemed to believe she was beyond any kind of help at this point. I wish she could have turned to us, she could always tell me anything. Or I wish we had pushed harder, maybe we wouldn't have been able to help her, but maybe we could have prevented this tragedy.

And again, I don't want to seem like I'm casting blame, but why didn't David see this coming? Why didn't he do something, get her some help? I realize it's kind of a private matter, but there's a point when you have to be a man and just deal with whatever shit comes your way. I really believe this didn't have to happen.

It's still hard for me to believe it happened at all. Like right when it did happen, and I screamed Oh my god Oh my god and I fell to my knees and David was running out to her and he stood there over her, and the truck had stopped, and I just let my entire body sink to the ground, and I wanted to run out to her but I couldn't. I just couldn't move, and I couldn't bring myself to run over to her and see her and see what had just happened to her. My eyes were squeezed shut and I held my hands over my ears and the smell of hamburgers frying on the grill surrounded me, and I'm lying in the grass trying to control myself, wondering what to do with part of myself screaming this didn't happen this isn't happening and the smell of hamburgers is practically choking me.

I wish that I could just forget that day. And I pray that Mary pulls through this all right. But I still will never understand. Why didn't David do something to help her? He must have known that she was thinking about this. And it wasn't the end of the world, she didn't have to do this. She still could have had an abortion.

David

I would have done anything for her, she knew that. I would have dropped out of school, gotten a job, done anything. I've always fucked everything up, my entire life, but I wanted so much not to fuck this up. But I did. I fucked this whole relationship up. The moment that condom broke, it was like something else intangible and profound had broken in our lives. Get the fuck out of me she hissed in the darkness and I should have known with those words that everything had gone wrong and that I'd once again fucked everything up. I mean, I realize that's a scary moment for her, but she didn't have to say get the fuck out of me as if she were uninvolved, passive, just someone who happened to be there rather than the woman I was making love with. I pulled myself away from her and she yelled and yelled at me about how could I let this happen and what the fuck be more careful if you weren't so goddamn stupid. She was mad, and I knew that when she got mad, she was prone to say a lot of shit she wouldn't mean. Mary was that way-she drifted into different moods every minute, but she felt each one passionately. So she gathered up her clothes and walked out and I just sat there by the window, naked, looking out at the dark emptiness. It wasn't raining, but it felt like those nights when it rains and I could just go out onto my parents' screened in porch and just sit there and be depressed, not do anything but just be depressed. Rain makes me feel that way. So does snow. Wind makes me think. On days when it's really windy I like to sit outside, or lie on my back, feeling the earth and just think. I don't like sunny days, warm days, because they don't do anything to me. But I love the wind. And the rain, on those quiet nights when I just sit and listen and feel and the sun seems to be some unreachable fantasy. And that night, there naked before the emptiness I could feel a little breeze and I could imagine the rain and remember my parents' house and I knew that I had fucked everything up, that everything was about to change, I just knew it, I fucking knew it.

Elizabeth

Mary came home and she just threw her bookbag onto our living room chair before stomping up the stairs and slamming her door. Delia and I were sitting in there watching TV, and Delia didn't seem to notice at all. Mary are you alright? I called up after her as Delia sat motionless beside me. There was no answer so I turned to Delia.

I wonder what's wrong with Mary, I said. Delia's eyes remained on the television as she said in that sarcastic way of hers, If I had to take a wild guess I'd say . . . David. It was obvious Delia didn't give a shit, so I went up myself and knocked on Mary's door. Mary are you alright? I asked, craning my ear toward her door, which was postered with Van Gogh's Crows in the Wheatfield. She opened the door and stepped out, her hair wild and knotted in places, her cheeks red, but she spoke in a remarkably calm manner.

I'm fine. I'm fine, just David shit she said as she stepped past me, headed toward the bathroom. She didn't look back at me once she'd passed by me and she closed the bathroom door behind her firmly. I guess there really wasn't much else I could have done, so I just went back downstairs to Delia.

Delia

In my defense, that girl came home pissed off more often than not after seeing David, there was nothing really special about this. Boy who cried wolf, right? So anyway, Mary began withdrawing in the next month. Again, nothing new here. She would periodically just say fuck school fuck friends fuck everything and avoid us for a week or two, avoid David, not turn in papers, the whole nine yards. The girl really needed some help, but she has one bad experience with a campus shrink and gives up on it for good. At any rate, I just avoided her during these times because I figure if she's trying as hard as she can to avoid us and be alone, chances are she really does want to be left alone. Some people just don't get this basic logic. I've known Mary since Freshman year. I may seem a bit skeptical of her at times, but I'm that way with everything and that's why she loves me. Back Freshman year we would just hang out all the time and run things down together, she was great at that, but she knew that I could be even better. And maybe sometimes I run her down when she's not here. I'm sure she does the same to me. Things were more fun then. Cynicism was a tool rather than a way of life. But anyway, I think I know Mary pretty well. Just because I don't jump at shadows like Elizabeth doesn't mean I don't care.

David

She lives off campus and I live in a dorm. She has a car and I don't. So in these times when she wants to avoid me, I don't really have much choice. I left messages on her machine or sent her e-mails which progressed from Are you mad at me? to Am I still your boyfriend? It lasted maybe two weeks. I saw her in the commons once and I tried to approach her but she ran away from me and I knew better than to chase her and call after her. I'd done that before and only aggravated the situation. Best just to let her have her time. When she finally did call me I jumped with excitement like she knew I would. I know Delia looks at me sometimes like just a pet of Mary's and while that's not true, sometimes I feel like it is true. She knew I would jump and I did. She came over to see me that night. We didn't have sex again. I knew that'd be a bit of a sensitive subject for a while. Really, we didn't do anything but hold each other a little bit. She would see me occasionally over the next couple of weeks. We would hold each other, we would talk, we even slept together once, holding each other all night but not having sex. There was a kind of innocence in these next two weeks that I loved, that sometimes I would forget could even exist among the occasionally overwhelming physicality. I cradled her so tenderly, we would lie in my bed, looking out the window at the stars and I would hum a song to her as she laid her head on my chest. I began to think that maybe I hadn't fucked everything up, that maybe the whole condom incident was a blessing in disguise because it had allowed us to find this other part of our relationship that we could sometimes lose sight of.

The she told me that she was late. It was over four weeks since the condom broke and she was almost three weeks late. What do you want to do? I asked her and she just shook her head. I wanted to tell her that I'd do anything for her, that if she wanted to keep the baby, I'd do whatever it took to stay with her and support the child and be a father. I know that would have been scary to her, but I was ready to be a father, ready to have a real life if she would only say that's what we should do. I couldn't tell her that, though, because the whole idea of life and family was, at this point, such a distant realm, and terrifying. I didn't want her to think that I was crazily obsessed with her, or that I would be devastated if she decided to have an abortion, or that I had even done this on purpose, somehow. I told her I'd support whatever she wanted to do and she just shook her head and said that this can't happen, that she can't have this, not now, and that she didn't know where to turn. Do you want an abortion? I asked, hoping that I hadn't sounded as if that's what I wanted her to do. I don't know, she said. She left my room not too much later, the issue unresolved, she wanting to run from it, at least for the remainder of that night. I was alone to think. We hadn't even questioned whether she was pregnant or not. It was as if we both knew our fate and accepted it without question. As if in some Calvinist doctrine, we knew that this was our lot and that to question its existence, its inevitability was worthless, possibly even blasphemous. The inevitability somehow comforting, though it could not stop me from weeping as I turned in my bed.

Elizabeth

Mary pulled me aside one night to tell me. It had been a month, she was sure about it and, she confessed to me, she was scared out of her mind. I embraced her and she returned the embrace, though a bit half-heartedly it seemed. And after that night is when she started withdrawing again and going through all of her different mood changes. Delia said we should just leave her alone, that she needs to figure this out on her own. I didn't want to just leave it at that, I really didn't want to, but Mary wouldn't even speak of the matter after that one night. She was deciding what to do and one day it seemed that finally she had decided. She'd decided to have an abortion.

David

I won't lie to you. I was a little disappointed when she told me she wanted an abortion, but I would rather stand behind her and not lose her than frighten her with "family" talk to the point where she would probably break up with me. It was the best thing for both of us, I suppose. But her especially. We really are just a couple of stupid kids, and I know that when I step back from myself and look at this situation objectively. I love her so much, though. I would've been a good father.

Elizabeth

So that was that. She told us she was going to take care of everything herself and that she didn't want any help, any support, it's a private matter, she didn't even want anyone to drive her to the clinic. She would rather not have it mentioned again, so I decided to honor that.

Delia

Then Elizabeth has her brightest idea ever: a barbecue. What the fuck? I realize the intentions were good-we needed something to reaffirm our friendship, something to bring our minds off of pregnancy, anything to divert attention away from such a huge life decision. But a barbecue? Mary doesn't exactly strike me as a barbecue-type-girl. Something more subtle would have been nice. Something to divert our minds, but not something where we all have to hang around and just be disgustingly happy for an entire afternoon. That's not Mary. Thank God Mary didn't tell Elizabeth when she would be having the abortion, or else Elizabeth may have decided to throw a surprise party upon her return. We could have made a banner "Happy Abortion Day!" "Congratulations!" "It's not baby murder, it's a party!"

Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled with the idea but whatever. Sometimes when Elizabeth get an idea in her head it's best not to argue with her. We ended up having the little shindig a week or so before the appointment. Not that Mary told us when her appointment would be, but I noticed in her planner which had been conveniently left open in the living room. Probably would have been best to wait until after. A couple weeks after. But Elizabeth was set on it, who am I to question?

Elizabeth

The day arrived. Everything looked perfect as we were setting up. I'd bought some white zinfandel for the event-Mary's weakness. Thank God she didn't end up drinking any, though. I would have felt so incredibly guilty if she had gotten drunk that afternoon and the alcohol had been some factor in this.

Delia didn't seem too excited about the whole thing, but she pretended harder when Mary was around than when she was just with me. I don't know-it was probably bad that we acted differently when we were around Mary, I'm sure she could sense it. But it was so hard to control. It's like when you're around someone who's retarded or who's in a wheelchair. And people say Try not to stare, it's rude, they don't like it, and you try as hard as you can not to stare, but then you wonder if you're purposefully avoiding looking at them, and it feels as if every time your eyes move in their direction you're doing something wrong, and the whole air is just uncomfortable. I find myself wondering if I'm being too nice to Mary or too sensitive and then I'll wonder if I'm not being sensitive enough.

Anyway, it was on the Saturday of a weekend when none of us had an extraordinary amount of work to do. So Delia and I began drinking around three. We were just drinking beer and we offered the wine to Mary but she didn't take any. Said she wasn't in the mood, maybe later. Delia pushed a little bit because Mary seemed on edge and she needed to loosen up, but Mary still refused so Delia didn't push any harder. I think if it had been me or if it had been Mary at a less emotional time Delia would have practically poured the wine down our throats by force. But, like I said earlier, we were acting differently around Mary. But we were getting more relaxed. We never got, by any means, drunk but just the act of having a beer in your hands and sipping from that tends to relax you. We were talking, laughing, Delia was talking about some kid in her American Lit class that she absolutely despises. He was one of those guys that talks as if he's the professor and Delia did this impersonation of him that was pretty funny. Mary was even laughing a little, perhaps loosening up a little. Who can blame her for being tense, though? I can't even imagine having to make such a crucial life decision at this time in my life. It must have been terrifying and so horribly stressful for her.

But David arrived a little after four and that's when things started going downhill again. Mary suddenly tensed all back up. David was trying to act relaxed but you could tell he was uncomfortable as well. I mean, even more uncomfortable than usual. He's kind of a shy kid, never seems to know what to say and is unconfident about everything that he does say. So most people wouldn't have even noticed a change in him that afternoon, but I could tell that he was even more distracted than normal. Delia was still trying to make us all laugh, but it was proving more ineffective with every sarcastic comment. I finished my beer and started on another, hoping that somehow I could make all the tension in the air disappear solely through my own drinking.

Eventually, Mary said she wanted to talk to David for a bit, alone. They left the back yard where we had all been sitting and went into the kitchen, closing the door firmly behind them. I turned to Delia. Jesus Christ she said shaking her head and taking a drink from her beer. I drank some more as well. We didn't say much to each other probably because we both knew how serious everything was at this point and we didn't want to trivialize it by making idle chit chat between the two of us. Delia opened the wine and we just drank and looked out at the highway that runs right by our apartment.

It only took about ten or fifteen minutes for Mary to come storming out of the house, followed by David. Mary he said, Fuck you she called back, Mary he tried again, Fuck you was again her response. Mary kept on storming away from him until she reached the highway where she just stood, facing away from us, her arms folded across her chest. He was on the porch next to us, watching her until she stopped. When she stopped, he looked over at us for a second but averted his eyes as soon as they met ours. He turned his head and walked over to our left, where that big tree is. He sat down under it and seemed to stare at her for the next half-hour, as if he were lost in meditative prayer, as if he was speaking to Mary from twenty yards away without making a sound.

At this point, drinking wasn't even going to help, unless I were to somehow have the alcohol injected directly into my bloodstream. Delia and I still didn't say anything to each other for some time. Finally I asked her if she thought we should do something. She just shrugged and shook her head, still drinking from her beer. I had set mine down. I wanted to go over to Mary and talk with her but she seemed so unapproachable when she would get like this. I've told myself a million times since that day that I should have gone over to her then, but at the time it just seemed as if I would make things worse, that the last thing that Mary wanted was to have to talk about it with me. Maybe she would have talked about it with Delia because they've always seemed to have some kind of bond that I've never been able to share with her. I can't understand that because Delia just seems so often to not give a shit about her. But that's the way it is and I can wish now that I had gone over there and talked to her, but I didn't and I feel like I have to take some kind of partial responsibility because I just sat by and watched this happen.

It lasted this way for almost a half hour and it was an incredibly long half hour. Mary over by the highway, David under the tree, me taking a trip to the bathroom, a trip to the kitchen, anything to take myself out of the situation, even just for a short amount of time. Delia just sat calmly through it all, as if there was no tension in the air whatsoever. At one point, she stood up and put some hamburgers on the grill. I couldn't tell if this was a genuine move to try to pick the mood back up, or if it was a sarcastic action directed at me. As if to rub it in that this barbecue had been my idea and now it was in shambles. When she came back from the grill she didn't even look at me, though, she just sat right back down and drank from her beer, still oblivious to any hostility in the air. I don't know how she could just not let it all effect her like that. I felt like a wreck.

And then it happened. It's still painful to recall it now because I saw it all happen, every detail from beginning to end. I had just come back outside from a trip to the kitchen and I looked out at Mary. She was turned in profile to us now as she was looking out at the oncoming traffic. And it seemed as if she were studying the cars intently. I was trying to figure out just what she was looking at when suddenly she jumped out onto the highway, out in front of an old orange pickup truck. The truck didn't even seem to slow down until after it had hit her and she was taken up, lifted off the ground, her head falling hard onto the hood, her body propelled backward, another car slamming on its brakes and going off the road in order to avoid her body as it fell fifteen feet from the truck, her side hitting the ground first, but her head slamming violently onto the asphalt with no shield. That's when everything started to swirl for me, I was screaming her name, screaming to god, and as David ran out to her I collapsed there on the ground, eventually blacking out.

I guess the ambulance came and took Mary away and they sent another one for me. But by the time that second one got here I was just waking up anyway. David had gone down with her and Delia drove me out to the hospital once I was awake and the paramedic had made sure I was alright.

But I was fine. That is, I wasn't physically hurt in any way. But mentally I was completely destroyed. Delia was trying to keep me calm and she kept talking to me on the way to the hospital, telling me that Mary would be alright, just try to be calm, but I couldn't come to terms with this yet. I was sure that Mary was not going to make it, that one of my best friends had just killed herself and she had waited there watching traffic for that one driver who wasn't paying attention to the road as I stood idly on the porch, not doing anything to stop her.

At the hospital it was such a tremendous relief to find that she was not dead. I was thanking god that she had survived as they told me some of the injuries that she had suffered-a broken arm, broken leg, some cracked ribs, head trauma, a lot of internal bleeding, but she was going to survive. I was so worried about Mary's own life that I didn't even think to ask about the baby. I'm sure they didn't want to tell me because they might not have been sure if I had known already and that's such a private matter. Delia and David and I waited all night but she still wasn't ready to see us. At some point in the night I did remember the baby and when David was not around I asked Delia if she thought the baby could have survived. Delia said there was no way it could have. I didn't want to discuss it with David around, though. I felt so bad for him.

We went home around 5 am when they told us she definitely wouldn't be ready to see us for some time, yet. I didn't sleep at all that morning or afternoon and I'm sure David didn't either. Delia was trying to be the calm one among us but I could tell that inside she was just as ripped apart as me. I'm glad that I have her, though, someone who can be a rock like that. We all went back to the hospital that evening and after about an hour they told us that Mary could see us now and that she wanted to see just Delia and me first. David didn't seem to have any reaction to that so I didn't say anything to him, we just went down the corridor.

She looked so horrible, her head all in bandages, her leg in the air, tubes and wires seeming to come straight out from her. I just wanted to break down into tears as soon as I saw her, but I couldn't do that. She didn't say much-she really didn't have the strength to say much. I asked her about the baby and she just shook her head and said It's gone. I wanted so much just to put my arms around her.

I'll never understand. Perhaps it's not for me to understand. I lover her so much, though. I'm never going to take something like this lightly again. I mean, when someone is withdrawing and seems to be crying for attention it's the least you can do to give it to them. This went far beyond the pregnancy-she could have solved that other ways. This was the result of something far more deep-rooted. Some part of her with problems she had never let me see, but I perhaps should have seen, could have seen if I had paid more attention. And for that, I'll take some of the blame. It's something I'll have to live with.

Delia

Enough bullshit. Here goes: I'm not a bitch. I really care a lot for Mary and Elizabeth and even David. But people think I'm a bitch sometimes because I'm too honest. You're probably going to think I'm a bitch because I'm so unsympathetic and critical, but whatever. You should know the truth.

1) Mary did not want to kill herself. That little two-lane highway that runs by our apartment is packed with semis day and night. I can barely get any sleep with those fucking things blaring by my window. So Mary is off, lost in her own world over there by the highway for maybe a half hour, David is brooding under the tree, pretending that he's not staring at her the whole time as if his entire life doesn't revolve around her, Elizabeth is entirely rattled by the earlier conflict, so she can't relax, and I'm over at the grill, realizing by now that our fun little afternoon barbecue is absolute shit. I'd just as soon say fuck it and everyone head our separate ways for the day because it's quite obvious no one wants to have fun, now. But anyway, Mary's over there by the highway for like a half hour and I know that semi after semi passed right by her. And she throws herself in front of a pick-up. Granted, that shows more dedication than, say, a Geo Metro, but if she really wanted to kill herself she would have jumped in front of one of those semis.

2) Secretly, Elizabeth loves this. Jesus Christ I've never seen anyone so in love with tragedy. She comes across as so affected and so horribly jaded now, but there is some part of her that must eat all this drama up. Some part of her that craves this fodder for poetry and the right to tell someone "my best friend just tried to kill herself." Just look at her studies-a creative writing major with a women's and gender studies concentration. If that's not the courseload of a cheese-head drama queen, I don't know what is. And when this whole thing happens, she just so wrapped up in the drama, she loses track of reality. I'm the only one of the three of us who even had the sense to run inside and call 911. If it hadn't been for me who knows how long Elizabeth would have just wallowed in the grass and David stand over her before someone decided to get some help. Mary might not have survived at all. I don't want to trivialize this at all, but I just think that if Elizabeth weren't so in love with drama she'd be much better off. I can't always be the sensible one around here. Anyway, I'm sure she feels somehow validated, like a complete person now. Complete, artistic, and somehow wise because she's survived the tragedy of a friend attempting to "take her own life."

3) Here's the topper: Mary was not pregnant. She was never pregnant, but she wanted everyone to believe she was. I know, because I realized when she was on her period, even though she desperately tried to hide it. She fucking flushed her tampons down the toilet to hide it from us. How fucking stupid is that? Of course the toilet clogged all up. I'll never understand, if you'll permit me a little aside, why anyone would flush a tampon down the toilet. Hello? What is the basic purpose of a tampon? Is it not to plug up a hole, essentially? Jesus Christ, fucking people. But Mary went to that length to hide the fact that she was not pregnant. And then in the hospital when she tearfully told Elizabeth that she had lost the baby-come on, and I the only person who could see through that? Did Elizabeth talk to any doctors about whether Mary had "lost the baby"? No, she did not. I was tempted to, but I didn't because I'm not so callous to do something like that.

Mary was always crying for attention. The problem is, you build up a tolerance for attention after a while. The regular attention isn't good enough anymore so you have to keep taking more and more drastic measures in order to continue being satisfied. So she had this suicide attempt planned for some time. She was using the pregnancy as an excuse, it's that simple. Of course, I don't dare tell Elizabeth all this or else she'd think I'm some kind of heartless bitch, and I don't dare tell David lest his perfect image of Mary be soiled. Someone really should, though. We're almost adults, for fuck's sake. In just over a year's time, we're going to have to enter that real world and at some point we have to stop the drama. We have to stop believing in bullshit just because it makes more sense or it's easier or it's more dramatically enticing. Grow the hell up.

David

The baby was gone. That's all she told me in the hospital. I love you Mary, I love you so much I told her but she didn't return the words. She had this blank look in her eyes that she would get sometimes when she was just looking at me and I felt as if she were analyzing me, trying to understand something within me. She had that look in her eyes three nights before while we were kissing. As if not swept away at all in passion, she just looked at my face as I furiously, completely, madly lost myself in her lips her body. And she just looked at me coolly. Is there something wrong? I asked her. She just shook her head and then told me that she loved me. At the hospital she looked at me with those eyes but did not say that she loved me. But she was lost in thought, she's always lost in thought. She told me that night, after we had kissed for some time, that Delia didn't believe that she was pregnant and that nobody thought she was a real person that she didn't even feel like a real person so much. You're real to me I told her and then I asked You are pregnant, aren't you? She took my head in her hands and placed it on her stomach. Can you hear the heartbeat? I did. Inside her body I could hear a pounding, steady, low, and unquestionably alive. I kissed her body and began to cry. She stroked my hair. I don't want it to die, I said. She just continued to calmly stroke my hair as if I were the baby now, holding onto her, searching for some kind of answer some way to spare both the life of the child and our lives as well.

Mary . . . Mary . . .

Shhhh she told me. I watched as one of my teardrops ran down the cool white skin of her stomach and into her navel. Mary . . . will you marry me? I asked, still clinging to her body, still resting my head on her stomach, with my eyes upon the streak which my tear had left behind. She still calmly stroked my hair. We can't do that, she said. I cried until she told me I couldn't cry anymore, that she was going to drive me home.

And I did a lot of soul searching that night. I decided that for once in my life I was going to have to take a stand, to stop being this pet of Mary's. The next night when I saw her I told her that she could not have an abortion that I wouldn't let her. She flew into a rage at this point, telling me that I couldn't tell her what to do with her body and for once I yelled back. This is my baby too I yelled and I won't let you kill it. She screamed and screamed at me to get out of her room. She screamed so furiously that I thought Elizabeth would soon come storming up the stairs, breaking down the door, but she must not have been home at all. After we had screamed for some time, we tried to talk about it calmly. Nothing was resolved but I left saying that we would have to talk about this more later.

On the third day was the barbecue. The tension was obviously present between us and there was nothing that could have released it. She brought me into the kitchen to talk about it, but we ended up screaming again and she stormed out, away from me, and to the highway. I don't like to recall the accident. In one flash I saw everything that I loved being taken away from me in a whirl of orange and red and white. I ran out to her as she lay in the road, blood streaming from her head Mary Mary I was calling over tears, I wanted to pick her up to carry her somewhere safe to embrace her and say please please don't ever leave me you can't leave me, but I couldn't move her, they tell you not to move people in situations like that, I could only stand over her and cry to her to speak to me to tell me she's alright, but her eyes were closed and she was not responding, the only words I heard were Oh Jesus Oh Jesus she just came out of nowhere, somebody call an ambulance Oh Jesus somebody dial 911! coming from behind me. Then the sirens coming and they put her into the ambulance and I came with her and I was telling them please save her you have to save her and please save the baby too.

At the hospital they told me she was never pregnant.

But I know that she was. I know as sure as I stand here that I heard a heartbeat that night, that I could feel part of my life within the body of Mary. That's a sacred feeling that you don't need any tests to ensure, it's just something you know. And now, at night, when I lie awake and think about Mary lying in her hospital bed and about the life we could have had together, I can still hear that heartbeat as if coming to me from the night.

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