State of Heart

Hummingbird: Part 1

I can't remember the last time I prayed.

I can't remember the last time I really, really prayed. Like this. Like the kind of prayer where you find yourself on your knees with your eyes squeezed shut, hands collapsed as you whisper silent pleads to nothingness. The kind where your body trembles with each exhale as tears glide down your cheeks. The kind of prayer that leaves your heart swelling with desperation as the emptiness of the atmosphere weighs down on you. I can't remember the last time I prayed like that.

Was it two weeks ago? Two months? Two years? I don't know but that doesn't matter. What does matter is that right here, right now, I am. I am praying with my palms pressed together and my eyelids draped closed. I am praying with my lips quivering as my heart races against my sternum, a single tear trailing down my cheek. I'm praying hard. I am praying hard and as if my life depends on this single prayer.

"Please," I sniffle. "I don't ask for much. I really don't, but I'm asking for this. Please."

I'm sure I look like an idiot. Just sitting here in the quietude of the bathroom as I cry silently to myself. My face is most likely splotchy, and my nose is running. Sure do look like a million bucks -a million bucks worth of crap. That's how I feel, anyway. All this anxiety and anticipation is making me want to throw up, but I swallow that feeling and continue to pray until a light knock interrupts my thoughts.

"Novalynn?" her gentle tone calls from the other side of the door. "Novalynn, you've been in there a while, now. Is everything okay?" There's a slight pause before she adds, "Are you okay?"

I don't want to answer. I don't want to muster up what little strength I have to force some lame excuse out. Then again, even if I did want to, I don't think I could. I'm afraid that if I open my mouth, the vomit will be all that comes out; bile and regret for even trying. And at the moment, a mess is not something I want to deal with. Not right now.

"Nova, talk to me," she sighs.

I don't want to. I have nothing to say. I can't say anything.

"That's it," she declares. "I'm coming in."

Before I can protest, the door swings open, revealing a panicked Liz. Guilt immediately consumes me as my eyes meet hers. Concern and alarm drench her smooth features as a hurried pep meets her walk. She rushes over, kneeling before me as she takes my hands into hers. They're so warm and almost ease me into comfort.

Almost.

"Nova, what's wrong? You've been in here almost fifteen minutes," she presses, gently tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "What's up? Come on, talk to me."

How can I bring myself to do that? To talk to her as if I'm not a failure? I can't. I can't do that because I am a failure. I'm a failure of a friend, partner, and woman. All I do is leave behind a trail of disappointment and pain. That's all I do. Maybe she'd be better off with someone else. Someone who's better than me and womanlier. Maybe -

"Hey," her soft tone snaps me back to reality as her warm palm cuffs the side of my face, forcing me to meet her dark stare. "If this is all about what Ellie said, then just forget about that. No matter what happens -no matter what the results are, I still love you and I still want you." Her eyes begin to appear glossy as she fights her own tears. "Besides, if not this year, then maybe next year or the year after that."

Another tear falls down my cheek as I shake my head. "We've already had three negative tests and I can't do that again. I can't keep getting my hopes up only to be disappointed. And we can't keep throwing money at this. We'll go bankrupt before anything ever comes of this."