I Love You to Death(77)

That I want him.
That I need him.
That I love him.
We are so close, I can no longer tell where he ends and I begin.
We have no time for a shower, but neither of us cares. We walk to the club, covered in each other, our bodies wrapped tightly around each other and I feel like I don’t ever want to let him go. Just before he goes on stage, I pull him to me and stand on my toes to whisper, "I love you." I don’t know why it ever took me so long to get the words out. Now I just can’t stop telling him.
Luke smiles at me, that gorgeous smile that stops my heart and then he walks on stage and reinvents the meaning of music.
I stay watching from the side, watching Luke as he engages the audience and sings his words to them. They are good, so good tonight, everyone can feel it. The crowd is going crazy and the guys are playing like they’re drawing all of their energy from them. It’s amazing to watch. They play a new song, a song Luke wrote for us. The audience loves it, but I hardly notice anyone because I can’t take my eyes off Luke. I can’t wipe the smile off my face either, I am so happy. It’s still there when they all leave the stage, over two hours later.
I pull him straight into my arms, telling him over and over again how amazing he is, how much I love him. I can’t ever remember feeling like this before. Suddenly we are both surrounded and looking, we see that they are all hugging us. Jared and Ben and Steve and Mia and Sarah and Pete are all hugging us. We’re all laughing now because we all know it was their best performance.
We all know there is something amazing going on here.
∞

I was twelve when I finally asked Dad about being born and what had happened that day. He told me everything. I needed to know it all, what had really happened and how he really felt. Like I said, he never, ever made me feel as though I was to blame, or it was my fault everything that happened. If anything, he loved me more and always made sure I knew that. And when I learnt some of the background, I guess I started to see why.
He told me how they struggled, how they’d both desperately wanted me, but Mom especially. It made me wish even more I’d had the chance to know her, wish she had the chance to know me. But he always said she was so grateful to be finally having me, that even if it was only for a minute, her knowing I was alive and okay would’ve meant something to her.
They’d been trying to have another baby for years. Almost as soon as Seth was born, they wanted another. My Mom had desperately wanted a daughter, not that she didn’t love Seth, but I guess all mothers want a little girl of their own. For years they had tried and for years they didn’t have any luck. They both had tests and everything was normal, but it just wasn’t happening. But Mom insisted they keep trying, one day it would happen, that she knew she was meant to have another baby. Then one day she woke up, walked out into the kitchen where Dad was cooking her breakfast and before she’d even sat down, she walked to the sink and threw up. Dad says she knew straight away what it meant. That when she was pregnant with Seth she couldn’t stand the smell of food first thing in the morning, it used to make her sick every time. So instead of being mortified at having vomited all over the kitchen, Dad just poured her a glass of water and after rinsing her mouth out, both of them were laughing and crying at the possibly it had finally happened again. As soon as the stores opened they went out and bought a test and when the positive came back, they were over the moon.
By all accounts her pregnancy with me was completely normal. The morning sickness she had was the same as what she’d had with Seth. She lost weight initially, which wasn’t good, but the same thing had happened with Seth. And when she reached twelve weeks, it all stopped, just like with Seth. The rest of the time was all normal. I grew normally, they found out I was a girl, which made her even more excited and everything was just so completely normal.
In the end though, I was born a month early. Whether the excitement of New Year’s Eve caused me to make my unexpected appearance or whether it was something to do with the unforseen complications, I’ll never know. But just before midnight on the last day of the year, when everyone else was counting down the clock to celebrate, I entered the world. And one minute later, just before the clock actually struck twelve, just before the New Year arrived, my Mom died.
They were holding me at the time, when it all started happening. Dad tells me she smiled, then he kissed her and then things started to go very wrong. There was a lot of bleeding, a lot of noise as monitors started alarming everywhere. Doctors were rushing around, I was taken out of her arms and out of the room. Dad kept holding onto her hand as they tried desperately to get the bleeding to stop.
"I love you," was the last thing she said before she closed her eyes.
I never got to know her and she, after wanting me for so long, never got to know me.
In the end, Dad named me Asha because it was what they’d decided on months before. Actually as he says, it was what she’d decided, that as soon as she found the name, she knew that’s what I would be called. There’s a part of me that wished I was named after her, but Dad always said this was the name she wanted and when she wanted something she pretty much always got it. He laughed when he said this, telling me, "Your Mom was very stubborn you know."
Depending on which origin you look at, my name, it means desire, hope or wish. Ironically it can also mean life. Dad says she chose it because that’s what I was to her. I was her hope, her wish and her desire.
But I also took her life.
Sometimes I don’t think I deserve this name, not after everything I’ve done. But it’s what she wanted for me. I really wish I could have known her.