After The Island

Chapter 3

5 weeks later
Claire's POV:
     This was it. It was time to see my baby again. After weeks of psych evaluations and press conferences, I would be seeing my baby. Accompanied by Kate of course, there seemed to be no way around that. My therapist thought it would help Aaron. A police officer was also required to be there. I had fought against it, but it was part of the agreement. No police officer, no Aaron. It was just another round of bitterness I had to swallow. I was also going to be seeing my mother again. I had imagined it a thousand times after her accident. She would wake up from the coma. She would forgive me. Each scenario I had imagined in my naivety included tearful hugs and happily ever afters. But now that I was about to see her again, a pit of nervousness had worked its way into my stomach. I tried to replace every thought of my mother with one of Aaron. Hands shaking, I pushed open the door to my mother's house. Misjudging the weight of it, I accidentally slammed it open. How many times had I opened that door before? Thousands, of course. But it had been years since I'd done so, and delicacy was a trait that was quickly sacrificed on the island. The floors were polished and smooth under my flats. Turning to the left, I stared at my reflection in the mirror I knew would be there. It was a small circular mirror, but it had a gilded ornate frame. It was one of our few extravagant pieces, my mother had worked nonstop just to feed us. It was a gift from her mother, she had told me. My reflection was a stranger these days. Hollow eyes, hollow cheeks, hollow heart. It filled the surface of the mirror despite the feeling of smallness it gave me. When had the light left my eyes? Where had it gone. With a smirk, I wondered if I could follow. Back to giddy, inexplicable laughter that made my stomach hurt. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all? The officer cleared his throat, jolting me from my nostalgia. He was a tall, expressionless man named Greg. At least I thought so. I don't think he'd be rather memorable even if I wasn't about to be reunited with my family. "This way, Ms. Littleton," Greg said. "Are you ready?" His voice was business-like and calm, like a robot. Kate was standing next to him looking concerned. I tried to slow my shaking breaths as I shook the final cobwebs of distraction from my head. How could I be dawdling in front of the mirror when my baby was so close? I locked by blue eyes with his dark brown ones and nodded. While his face was blank, his eyes were twinkling with the brightness of a thousand stars. He had experienced little tragedy in his life, I could tell that right away, and a momentary flash of hatred worked its way through the knot of anxiety in my stomach. Here I was, holding up the weight of the world like the titan, Atlas, while fluttered through the breeze of an easy life. When he raised his hand to beckon me down the hallway, the sun glinted off something on his finger. A wedding ring. Bitterness, bitterness, bitterness. With one last glance at the mirror, I could see it on my face as plain as day. Wiping it away with thoughts of Aaron, I started walking down the hallway.

     The hallway wasn't long, fifteen of twenty feet at most, but each step felt like crossing that damned Pacific Ocean. Finally he opened the door, the last barrier I had to overcome. As I stepped inside, my mother looked up at me. But my gaze was already glued to Aaron. My baby boy, my tiny baby boy. How did he get so big? His eyes followed his grandmother's, and he looked puzzled by my presence. Then Kate walked in behind me. Aaron's face lit up and he ran over to her. "Mommy!" he shouted gleefully. I stepped back, the wind knocked out of me. There were buckets of ice water in my lungs and I was drowning, losing sight of land. Mommy. As Kate looked down at him, her hair fell forward, hiding her expression. My mother stood silent, staring at me, more like an illusion than reality. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but then shut it again. I wonder if she could hear the sound of my heart shattering. Kate was not Aaron's mommy. She was never his mommy. My breaths came in gasps and I was shuddering violently. The officer stepped forward. "Maybe you should take Aaron into the other room, Kate. Claire, you can talk to your mother. I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do," he said. It was a demand, not a suggestion. Aaron grabbed Kate's hand like it was his lifeline as she led him out of the room and down the hall, making me wish I had a lifeline of my own. My lungs were filled with fire now, threatening to burn me alive from the inside. I sat, or rather, collapsed into the nearest couch. It was new, and the blue fabric matched the color of the ocean I was drowning in. I tried to remember what my shrink had said about feeling like this. It was some sort of attack, that much I knew. Was it a heart attack? It sure felt like one. The couch was smooth and velvety underneath my shaking fingers. There was a bookshelf full of small books in the corner, and a toy chest in the corner. It's oak lid gleamed, bragging to me of it's beauty. There was also a small bed against the far wall. The sheets had planets and stars on them. This was Aaron's room, and for some reason the thought calmed me. My breathing began to even out, although my hands were still shaking slightly. "Mum," I said weakly. I sounded like a child even to my own ears. Greg stepped out of the room to give us some privacy. "Claire," she responded. She seemed mesmerized by me. "You're all grown up. And your hair isn't black anymore, thank goodness. Your natural blond always looked best on you, dear. Although that's really the least of it, isn't it? Kate told me what happened before she went back to the island. It was so sad to hear about Charlie. From what Kate told me he must've been better than Aaron's father," she was babbling, as she always did when she was nervous. She was also crying, her tears departing on the lonely journey down her cheeks. It was at this moment that I knew she would never fully understand. She would try to empathize with me of course, but she would never get it. The distance from Sydney to LA was nothing compared to the unbridgeable gap between me and my family. Without thinking, I launched into a detailed account of my life starting from the crash and ending with now. She had missed so much. So much joy and so much pain. So much of my life that she would never be connected to no matter how hard she tried. She listened without interrupting. That had always been one of her most reliable qualities. She believed that everyone had some thing to say, no matter how small, and it was our jobs as people to listen. When I finished, she took a deep breath. Then another. Seconds stretched on until a full minute had passed. Then another. Finally I got up, itching to see Aaron and tell him how much I loved him. A few feet from the door I was stopped by my mother's embrace as she wrapped her arms around me, sobbing, and the officer poked his head in to see if everything was okay. When he saw us hugging, he went back to being a statue in the hallway. My eyes were dry and burning as my mother held me tight. "Claire," she said at last, wiping the tears from her face. "When I woke up, I was so eager to see you. That was the first thing I asked the doctor. 'Where's my daughter' I asked. And do you know what she said Claire? She told me you were pregnant. I was going to be a grandmother! Oh I was so excited, Claire. But then she told me that you were giving your baby up for adoption. You had boarded a plane in Sydney headed for LA. And the plane crashed. She told me you were dead, Claire. And then a few weeks later on the news, there was word of survivors from that flight. The Oceanic Six. I was so certain I was going to see your face among them. But you weren't there. I lost you all over again. And I know this won't be easy, but I can't lose you. Not again. You can't shut me out." She released me and stepped back, waiting for me to aggree. I nodded.