Love Withered Before Spring Arrived

After my second miscarriage, the whole family treated it like a crisis.

My mother-in-law quit my job for me.

My mother stayed by my side around the clock.

Sylvester Simmons filled the balcony with roses and jasmine.

He thought it would take my mind off things.

But I couldn't forget the child who had died so cruelly, and I cried every day.

When Maisie Henson, Sylvester's childhood sweetheart, heard about it, she stepped forward on her own.

She threw out my roses and smashed my painting supplies.

Then she said to Sylvester, righteous and firm.

"My sister-in-law's just hiding from it. Ordinary treatment won't reach her."

"We can't just let her waste away like this. We have to take some drastic measures!"

And with that, she shoved my head straight into the sink.

"Don't worry, I'm here."

"I promise I'll get your wife pregnant again with no trouble at all!"

1.

The ice water closed over my mouth and nose in an instant.

I struggled on instinct, my hands scrabbling at the edge of the sink.

The air in my lungs was running out, bit by bit.

Just as my mind started to blur, Sylvester wrenched Maisie away.

"Are you insane?"

He pulled off his coat and wrapped it around me, wiping the water from my face with an ache in his eyes.

"Her body hasn't recovered yet. Do you want to kill her?"

Maisie stumbled back two steps from the push.

Her eyes went red almost at once.

"Sylvester, I'm helping her."

"A sudden cold shock can break her dependence on grief."

"If you comfort her now, you'll only keep her drowning in the pain of losing the baby."

Sylvester's arms around me stiffened.

He was about to say something when Maisie spoke again.

"Every time your wife feels bad, you all crowd around her."

"She's already gotten used to trading tears for attention."

"If you keep indulging her, the treatment will never work."

The living room went silent in an instant.

My mother-in-law was the first to nod.

"That makes sense."

"We spoiled her too much before. That's why she's gotten weaker and weaker."

My mother hesitated a moment, then crouched down and patted my back.

"Maisie means well for you too."

"A little suffering is nothing. For the sake of a child, just bear it."

I looked up at Sylvester.

His jaw was tight, the panic from earlier still lingering in his eyes.

But after a moment, he let go anyway.

I spent the whole night in nightmares, my heart still pounding.

I'd barely fallen asleep when a shrill baby's cry burst right beside my ear.

I jolted awake and searched frantically for my child.

"Baby..."

"Where's my baby?"

There was no child in the bedroom.

Only the speaker on the nightstand, playing that crying over and over.

The curtains were yanked open, and harsh sunlight poured in.

Maisie was standing by the bed.

"Starting today, you get up at six every morning."

"Get used to a baby's cries ahead of time, so you won't be overwhelmed once you have one."

The crying kept going.

I covered my ears, my body shaking beyond my control.

"But my child is already gone!"

The words were barely out before the tears fell.

My mother walked in carrying the herbal medicine.

The moment she saw me crying, her face darkened.

"It's first thing in the morning. Why say such unlucky things?"

"Hurry up and drink your medicine. Don't waste everyone's hard work."

I looked past her, to Sylvester in the doorway.

He was watching me with a frown.

There was pain in his eyes, and hesitation too.

But in the end, he only lightly touched my forehead.

"Listen to Maisie."

The crying went on all day.

By evening, Maisie pinned me down in front of the television.

Newborns.

Babies at a month old.

Children just learning to walk.

One after another, they rotated across the screen in front of me.

Maisie sat beside me, the remote in her hand.

"Look at these happy scenes. That's how we'll stir up your desire to be a mother."

I stared at the children on the screen.

Suddenly I remembered the pale white lights in the operating room that day.

I remembered the nurse carrying my baby away from me, a corner of the swaddling blanket hanging down, swaying gently before my eyes.

"No..."

I covered my eyes, shaking so hard I could barely stay upright.

"Turn it off. I'm begging you, turn it off."

Sylvester and my mother both came toward me.

I thought they'd come to help me.

But my mother only held my hands.

Sylvester leaned down and pressed against my trembling shoulders.

"Just bear it, Joyce."

"Maisie means well for you."

On the television, a baby was laughing.

From the speaker, another child was still crying.

I sat frozen where I was.

And it felt as if my heart was being torn open, inch by inch.

It had been going on like this for half a month.

I'd barely slept a full night through.

The moment I closed my eyes, a baby's crying rose up in my ears.

My hair had started coming out in fistfuls.

Hot water ran down over my head.

I lifted a hand to feel it, and my palm came away full of wet black strands.

The drain at my feet was already clogged.

The water rose higher and higher, creeping over the tops of my feet.

I shut off the showerhead, crouched on the floor, and started gathering up the tangled hair.

But no matter how I tried, I couldn't get it all.

Then came a knock at the door.

"How long does a shower take?"

Mom's voice carried through the door.

"Maisie says soaking too long chills you and hurts your chances of conceiving."

I clutched that clump of hair, my fingertips trembling and I couldn't stop them.

"Mom"

"I think I can hear the baby crying."

Outside, there was a beat of silence.

The bathroom door was pushed open.

Mom walked over to the bed and glanced at the speaker, which wasn't lit up.

"The speaker isn't even on. Are you trying to scare us on purpose?"

I froze where I was.

But the crying was still there in my ears.

Very faint.

One cry after another.

As if it came from inside the wall.

Or as if it had been hiding in my head all along.

Not bothering to dry my hair, I ran barefoot out of the bathroom.

Sylvester was sitting in the living room.

I grabbed his hand, my voice close to begging.

"Sylvester, take me to the hospital."

"I can't even tell anymore whether the crying is real."

"If this keeps up, I'll go mad."

Sylvester's face changed, and he immediately picked up his car keys.

He was about to take me out when Maisie came out of the study again.

"She can't go."

She blocked the doorway, her tone completely certain.

"A psychiatrist is just going to end up prescribing medication."

"Those drugs affect hormones, and they harm the body too."

"Right now the most important thing for her is to get back into shape for conceiving as soon as possible."

Sylvester stopped, wavering a little.

"But she's already hearing things."

Maisie let out a soft sigh.

"That's not hallucination. It's just trauma memory that hasn't been processed correctly."

"I can help her do a trauma recall."

"Once she gets everything that's weighing on her out, she'll naturally get better."

I stepped back on instinct.

"I don't need that. I want to go to the hospital."

Maisie turned to look at Sylvester.

"See, she's running away again."

"If you keep giving in to her now, she'll only grow more and more dependent on being sick."

Sylvester held the car keys.

After a moment, he set them back down on the table.

"Then let's try your way first."

A faint smile touched the corner of Maisie's mouth.

She turned and walked into the room, then laid out the medical records from both miscarriages on the table.

"Start from the first miscarriage."

"How many months along were you then?"

"How much blood did you lose?"

"When the doctor announced there was no heartbeat, what were you thinking?"

I stared at that little set of baby clothes, my throat as if something were jammed hard against it.

I couldn't get out a single word.

Maisie pushed the records in front of me.

"Not speaking means you still haven't accepted reality."

"We have plenty of time today. We can take it slow."

The living room was full of people.

Mom, my mother-in-law, Sylvester.

They were all watching me.

No one spoke.

As if waiting for me to complete some test I had to pass.

Maisie asked again.

"The first child, how did you lose it?"

I looked up at Sylvester.

During my first pregnancy, he'd gotten the checkup time wrong.

I waited a long while outside the hospital, and a speeding car hit me by accident.

The eight-month baby died in the womb, and I had to be induced.

That day Sylvester knelt in front of me and cried for a long time.

Over and over he swore.

"It's all right if we don't have a child. I'll love you my whole life."

The first pot of jasmine was one he planted at that time.

He held me and said, "When it hurts, just look at the flowers."

"Spring is here. They'll bloom again."

"It'll all pass. We'll have children yet."

It was those flowers that carried me slowly through the first miscarriage.

But now.

The flowers had been thrown out by Maisie.

My painting supplies had been smashed to pieces by her too.

The man who once covered my ears was sitting beside her now.

Listening to her force me to recall, again and again, the details of my child dying.

Maisie's voice came again.

"Why did you cross the road alone back then?"

"If you'd been a little more careful, wouldn't that car have missed you?"

My head snapped up.

"That wasn't my fault."

The living room went silent in an instant.

I thought Sylvester would step in front of me the way he had back then.

But he only looked away.

"It's all in the past."

"Maisie isn't assigning blame. She's just helping you face reality."

Maisie tapped the timer on her phone.

"Let's continue."

"Start from when you walked out of the hospital and saw that car."

My breathing turned ragged all at once.

The blare of the car's horn, the glaring headlights, and the blood that kept pouring out of me.

Every image came back before my eyes.

I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I snatched the medical records off the table and hurled them at her.

"Get out!"

"I don't want to talk anymore!"

The records scattered across the floor.

A sharp edge of paper cut across Maisie's face.

She pressed a hand to the wound, and tears spilled out at once.

Sylvester shot to his feet and pulled her into his arms.

"Joyce, what has gotten into you?"

He clamped down on my wrist.

"Maisie is trying to help you out of kindness. Why would you hurt her?"

I looked at this man in front of me, his face full of anger.

And suddenly I remembered, after the first miscarriage.

He had stood there just like this, eyes red, swearing he'd protect me for the rest of my life.

Now, his attitude hadn't changed.

It was only that the person he shielded behind him was no longer me.

The shouting brought everyone running.

The moment Mom saw the cut on Maisie's face, her expression changed.

"Joyce, how could you raise your hand to her?"

"Maisie's poured herself into treating you every single day. You don't have to be grateful, fine, but hurting her?"

Ramona pulled Maisie against her side.

"I said all along there was something wrong with her head."

"She couldn't hold on to either baby, and now she can't even tell right from wrong."

I looked at Mom.

"You both know exactly what she's done."

Mom's eyes darted away, and she sighed.

"Joyce, you keep burying all that old pain inside. When are you ever going to move past it?"

Sylvester stayed planted in front of Maisie the whole time.

I couldn't make out his face.

I could only hear the anger he was holding down in his voice.

"Apologize to Maisie."

I stood there a long time.

"You want me to apologize to her?"

Sylvester's brows drew together.

"Everything she's done has been for your sake. How can you repay her like this!"

Maisie tugged lightly at his sleeve.

"Sylvester, don't blame her."

"She can't control her emotions right now. She didn't mean to hurt me."

She was speaking forgiveness.

Yet every word reminded the whole room.

I was the crazy one.

I didn't explain again. I turned and went back to the bedroom.

Once the door closed, the voices outside quieted fast.

No one came after me.

After my first miscarriage, I'd locked myself in the bedroom for a whole day too.

Sylvester had sat outside the door and stayed with me the entire time.

I wouldn't eat.

So through the door, he told me about the first time we met.

From daylight into the dead of night.

At the end, he pressed his forehead to the door, his voice gone hoarse.

"Joyce, if you don't want to open the door, don't. I'll stay right here with you."

"It's all right if there's no baby. I just can't lose you too."

That day I opened the door, and I opened my heart along with it.

We held each other and cried, clinging together for a long time.

Back then, I truly believed he would stay with me for the rest of my life.

But this time, I waited in the room from morning until dark.

And I never heard Sylvester's footsteps.

Late in the night, I went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Passing the study, I heard Maisie's voice inside.

"Sylvester, do you think I went too far today?"

The door wasn't fully shut. Through the gap,

I saw Sylvester sitting there, head bent, dabbing medicine onto the back of Maisie's hand.

"No. She's the sick one."

Maisie bit her lip.

"But your wife seems to hate me. Maybe I should just move out."

"I don't want to be the reason things go wrong between the two of you."

Sylvester capped the medicine bottle for her and said nothing for a long while.

I thought he'd tell Maisie what he always used to say, that no one could ever come between us.

But he only leaned back into the couch, worn out, and said quietly,

"It's not about you."

"There hasn't been anything left between Joyce and me for a long time."

Maisie took his hand, aching for him.

"Sylvester, you're so tired, aren't you?"

Sylvester closed his eyes and said nothing more.

After a long moment, a bitter smile pulled at his mouth.

"There's nothing I can do. I owe her."

Owe.

So all these years, the embraces, the company, the tenderness.

In his heart, all of it was just a debt.

Maisie leaned in a little closer.

"But you can't cage yourself for a lifetime just because you feel guilty."

Sylvester closed his hand around hers and gave a soft laugh.

"Thank god I have you."

"You're the only one I can breathe around."

As that last word fell, the two of them folded into each other.

And I, outside the door, was already crying like the sky had opened.

I threw the cup in my hand at the two of them before I could stop myself.

The question tore out of me, almost broken.

"Sylvester, why are you doing this to me?"

Maisie flinched and ducked behind him with a scream.

The cup shattered against the wall, fragments scattering across the floor.

My mother and my mother-in-law heard the noise and came rushing out of their rooms.

"Joyce, what are you throwing a fit about now?"

I tried to lunge forward.

But Sylvester seized my wrist and forced me down against the sofa.

My mother pinned my legs.

My mother-in-law swept away everything within reach that could be picked up.

The three of them moved in perfect coordination.

As if I really were a lunatic who might hurt someone at any moment.

"Let go of me, I'm not crazy."

"They're the ones who held each other, they're the ones who betrayed me!"

I struggled without stopping, screaming until my voice broke.

Maisie clutched her chest and looked at me with fear all over her face.

"Sylvester, she's already showing the early signs of a psychotic break."

"Auditory hallucinations, delusions, loss of emotional control, and serious aggressive behavior."

"If we don't increase the intensity of treatment, something's going to happen sooner or later."

Sylvester's grip on my hands tightened all at once.

"Then what do we do?"

Maisie didn't answer right away.

She turned and walked into the bedroom.

When she came back out, there was a white urn cradled in her arms.

"The reason she can't move past it is because she's still keeping these things."

"Only by smashing the urn with her own hands, cutting the tie to the past, can she truly start a new life."

The living room went quiet.

Sylvester's face changed.

"No. That's our child."

Maisie's eyes reddened slightly.

"Sylvester, you're going soft again, both of you."

"Every time the treatment reaches the critical point, you can't bear to keep going."

"That's why her illness keeps getting worse."

My mother-in-law glanced at the urn and said through gritted teeth.

"The old has to go before the new can come."

"There'll be more children in the future anyway."

My mother crouched down beside me too.

"Joyce, be good. Once it's smashed, you'll stop dwelling on it."

"Everyone's doing this for your own good."

I stared at all of them, unable to believe it.

Inside that box were the ashes of my and Sylvester's first child.

That keepsake pendant, too, was one Sylvester had gone to the temple himself to pray for.

That day he had placed it in my palm and pressed it carefully against my belly.

"This is our first child, our treasure."

"When he's born, I'll put this pendant on him with my own hands, to bless him with a long life."

But we never got to see our child born.

Because of Sylvester's carelessness, he died inside me.

And now the child's own father wanted to erase the last trace of his existence with his own hands.

I stared hard at Maisie, tears of blood in my eyes.

"Give my child back to me."

Maisie ignored me, turned, and fetched a hammer.

Sylvester's eyes flinched away, but he still pushed the hammer into my hand.

"He's already dead."

"The living always have to look forward."

The cold handle pressed against my palm.

It was as though I were back at the hospital again.

The doctor handing me that small urn.

Sylvester holding me in the hospital corridor, crying so hard he couldn't stand.

Back then, he had said he would remember our child together with me.

But now he only held my shoulders down and coaxed me in a low voice.

"Joyce, smash it."

"We'll have more children later."

With that, Sylvester reached out and gripped my wrist, trying to force me to raise the hammer.

I fought with everything I had.

The hammer fell to the floor.

I threw myself forward to grab the urn back.

But Maisie snatched it into her arms first.

In the struggle, the balcony door was knocked open.

The urn slipped from her arms.

Gray-white powder scattered across the balcony.

"No!"

I dropped to my knees, scrambling to scoop it up with both hands.

But a faint breeze brushed past my face.

The ashes lifted from between my fingers, drifted over the railing, and were gone into the night in an instant.

"Baby"

My child was gone.

This time, even the trace that he had once existed was gone.

I stared blankly at that gray-white powder drifting away.

The next second, my palms braced against the railing.

Behind me came my mother's scream.

Sylvester was lunging toward me.

I closed my eyes and, chasing after my child, jumped.

The wind howled past my ears.

Sylvester's anguished cry came from above.

"Joyce!"