October PrepMo 2015

Antagonist Background Story

Francis leaned back against the hallway wall outside the master bedroom that he shared with his wife. There was almost constant moaning from his wife and soft murmurs from the midwife. It would be anytime when their child would be here. They had been tested, he saw now. After Adelaide, his sweet and beautifully charming Adelaide Olivia, there had been so much heartbreak. He felt as if it was his fault. They had had Franklin, his intelligent little boy who was above and beyond any other child with his learning abilities, and got spoiled. There was the rough pregnancy with Suzette, a warning, he felt. Human beings were so fragile and yet they always believed they were indestructible. Yvette's pregnancy with Adelaide had been smooth sailing, just like it had been with Franklin. It had been perfect.

They had been lulled into a false sense of security.

They tried for two years to get pregnant after Adelaide and nothing. It had been as if someone had changed the rules on them. Francis closed his eyes as he remembered the frustration, his hands balling into angry fists. They had almost become obsessed with it, their frustration so strong. Then finally! That spring of 1873, Yvette found herself pregnant and the joy they felt!

Francis himself painted up one of the bedrooms for the baby. Bringing down the crib himself. He didn't want any of the servants to do it. Then it happened. Yvette had been feeling poorly that morning and he let her rest. He'd called her school to tell them she wouldn't be reporting in and made sure their nanny, Mary-Louise, took care of the children that morning. When he'd come back to check on her, he knew. There was blood everywhere and Yvette was hysterical. She had been six months along when she'd miscarried.

Francis wanted to blame Yvette. It was her duty to bear children. Wasn't it what women were for? Women bore and raised children while the men worked and provided. It was the natural order of things. Plus, with his stature how would it look if his wife couldn't carry a child to term? Instead, he blamed himself. His agony had been so immense he'd locked himself in his office for a week.

Late the next year, Yvette found herself pregnant again and this time Francis prohibited her from teaching and forced her doctor to push for bed rest. The pregnancy was even shorter this time, it was only a few weeks after she found she was pregnant before she miscarried. This time she had only carried for two months.

How could this have happened? They were rich, high standing in their community. Francis a very well respected Psychiatrist who had written books and a very successful practice in town. He spoke at colleges to up and coming students who studied Psychiatry. His wife, gorgeous and smart. She had already birthed him three beautiful children, smart and respectful. This kind of thing didn't happen to them. It happened to the poor sods who had to work from the age they were ten just to help keep a roof over their heads.

Finally, the following year, things seemed to be going better. Again, Yvette had been on bed rest and had a personal servant to help with anything she needed. He wished he could've complimented Yvette, tell her how beautiful she looked, how perfect she looked round with his child, but he could not. He hardly saw Yvette during this time, because there was no happiness in her. Even though things were going well, she ceased to believe it would work out.

It didn't.

November 12, 1875 came and it was blustery cold with snow and sleet. It was early that morning when Yvette went into labor. She was early. She had just turned into her eighth month of pregnancy. The baby wasn't due until right around Christmas time. Regardless, the baby had been born stillborn. It had been a boy. A son. The despair of holding your son, your own flesh and blood and knowing this was it. There were no cheers as you heard their first cry, no seeing his eyes open and looking at you. He was this horrid blueish purple and he felt wrong.

He had been terrified after that. Yvette looked barely alive. She took time away from her school to recuperate, to heal. It was six months before she went back to teaching and he felt as if it was just the husk of her. She knew her importance to the marriage, he knew it too. It was more than that. His brothers would have laughed at this nonsense, he knew, but he missed her as a friend. They no longer had their evening discussions by the fire or hear her talk about her students or the funny things one of their children did. The evenings were silent and lonely as often Yvette slept separately from him, ashamed of her cursed body. There was nothing he could do or say.

They were almost scared to try again. Francis remembered looking into Yvette's eyes the first time they made love. It was as if she was pleading with him to not do it, as if she was asking him if three children was alright. If they could just be happy with their son and two daughters. He remembered not looking at her the entire time they performed.

It was eighteen months later when they found out they were pregnant.

This pregnancy had been different, Francis knew. There was this beauty in Yvette that hadn't been there in years, a fullness. She talked with him and she had an immense appetite, craving all kinds of fruits. He was hopeful. Francis would be lying to himself if he didn't admit to how much he wanted this baby. It ceased to be because he wanted a child, it instead became because he wanted it to live. He wanted to know he could make a child that lived, that grew. He wanted to see his wife happy again, to know her body wasn't cursed or broken.

As he prepared to slide down the wall and sit on the floor to continue his wait, he heard it. Oh! That noise! To think he thought he'd forgotten that beautiful perfect noise! He shoved open the bedroom door and there he was. This plump baby covered in afterbirth and blood and he was perfect. He took him from the midwife and kissed the baby's face. Here was his child and a son! Oh God had looked down on him with a smile this day. He handed the baby back to the midwife, who he kissed square on the mouth in thanks. Oh he wished he could profess his happiness to this woman.

His wife, laying in bed with tears streaming down her face. Happiness was here! Oh! He didn't have to worry about expressing anything to this woman, who knew, who shared in that heartbreak. They had a son!