Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Crimson rivulets of blood flowed through the street like tiny rivers of wine on their way to a stinking sewer, never knowing the DNA imprinted within it. Alec Denton relives those moments every hour of every day. The shrieking sirens, tire squeals, and alarms push him over the top into an inconsolable case of PTSD, forcing him to take refuge in multiple pints of beer. The hell with no escape was a far cry from what he thought his life was about. 

Alec joined the London Ambulance Service after university. While his mates were getting pissed at the pub, he was pumping blood and setting to IVs. That's how he met his wife, Liz. A call came in for a woman in Trafalgar Square that had fallen after getting her foot caught in the Tube gap. Once Alec arrived on the scene, he saw her sitting on the rainy pavement, ankle twisted, and Nike shoes torn up. Her long silky black hair in a messy ponytail and sparkling blue eyes. It was a bloody mess. He was in love. Six months later, they were married in a little chapel in Harrow and started renting a two-bedroom flat in Clapham - the perfect life until they tried to have a baby. Years of testing, treatments, and fertility drugs from the NHS yielded nothing but miscarriages and crushing heartache. That is until that emotional Halloween night in Leicester Square when they were out celebrating with friends and Liz spent the evening vomiting in the loo.

“Alec, I think I'm pregnant again” was barely audible above the echo of her voice puking in the toilet. 

“If you’d like, I can stop at the pharmacy before my shift and pick up a pregnancy test.”

“Don't bother. We know where this is going,” Liz yelled from the toilet. “I'll just ring the doctor and schedule an appointment. “ 

The NHS is always backlogged so it was at least a month before Liz could see her obstetrician. As the days dragged on and Liz continued to be sick and did not show any sign of bleeding or loss, she and Alec got a small glimmer of hope that they would maybe, possibly become parents.

“Alec, are you sitting down? I'm at the doctor’s office.” “Yes, what’s the bad news so we can deal with the outcome like every other time.”

Liz started sobbing uncontrollably. 

“Darling, oh Liz. Honey, we’ll get through this. I love you so much.”

Through the sobs, Liz laughed hysterically. “Alec, no - it’s so good I’m so happy. It’s a viable pregnancy and I heard the heartbeats.”

“Heartbeats, wait. What? No way. Two? Twins?” 

It's never the planned events that get you. It's the whack across the stomach that knocks you over the kind of stuff that kills you. He wasn't even on the schedule that day, but one of his mates called out, so Alec filled in. After years with the ambulance service, he had seen his share of gore and tragedy. Decapitation from a windshield, severed arms hanging by a thin white tendon, splattered purple brain matter from a suicide. Nothing could have prepared him for the image of his eight-month pregnant wife lying in the middle of the high street in Kensington. Her swollen belly protruding above the blood-soaked shopping bags ripped and strewn all over the street. The mob of commuters standing and gawking and the driver of the car crying and shaking while talking to the police. It was all too much and Alec steadied himself by holding tight to a lamppost while he puked the entire contents of his stomach onto the street. He ran to his wife while wiping the vomit off his shirt and was stopped by his partner, Marc.

“No mate. You can't. I'll take care of her and the babies, I promise. Please, trust me.”

Pushing against him, Alec tried to get closer to his wife, but Marc’s grip on him was firm enough to hold him back. 

“Listen to me, Alec. I will take you out if you don't sit down. We’re wasting time, and I don't want to have to involve the coppers. Do you hear me? “Alec nodded slowly and fell to the ground in a teary heap as Marc continued over to the scene to work on Liz to save her life and the twins. The last thing he remembered was the ambulance lights before blacking out. 

Alec awoke from his usual nightmare, soaked in sweat. Switching on the bedside lamp, he stepped onto the cold hardwood floor. Heading down the hall, he swept his hand lovingly over the framed print of tiny pink feet and a barely readable name. Once inside the back bedroom, tears welled up as he bent over the crib to kiss his son, Jack. He was so engrossed in the smell and the beauty of his boy, that he didn't hear Liz come in.

Leaning into him, she grasped him around the waist. 

“I miss Samantha every day. My heart aches to hold our little girl and have her share her life with Jack. He's our last chance, Alec. Marc saved my life that day but at a significant loss to us. We are blessed to know he will be our one and only child here. Let's let the love we have for him and Samantha grow to be greater than the grief.”

“Liz, you and this little man mean everything to me. I'm so sorry this has happened to you, to us but I now know I can be the father and husband I was meant to be.”