The Light at the End
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 14: Laura
When Percy arrived back at the inn, I introduced him to our new guest, a tall Italian guy named Antonio Marino.
The guy shook Percy’s hand, and asked him, “Please, call me Tony.”
I liked Tony immediately. He had a sincere smile on his face and honest eyes. He was one of those persons who make you feel comfortable when you’re talking to them.
“Mr. Marino is a chef, Percy. He offered to help us in the kitchen,” I explained Percy unable to hide the excitement in my voice. “He’s looking for a job.”
“A chef? What a coincidence! I was helping a guy, who is remodeling an old building in front of the town’s square. He’s planning to open a restaurant,” Percy exclaimed
Tony was delighted with the news and asked Percy directions on how to reach the building.
When he left, Percy showed me a flyer. As soon as I read the title I knew what the group was about. I stood there not knowing what to say. I knew I needed help, but on the other hand, I refused to talk about my miscarriage. Talking about it made it real.
“What do you think?” Percy finally asked me, while he eyed me, trying to gauge my reaction.
When I finally spoke, I looked at him and asked, “Do you think I should go?”
“I think it might help. I want us to go together. What do you think?”
I gave him a soft smile. “We can give it a try. Together.”
Next Thursday we entered the church, through a set of double doors. The temple was much like the rest of the town, old but warm and cozy. All wood and natural light, with pews running up to the altar.
A woman named Martha waved us over and guided us to the basement. There was a ring of folding chairs. Four other women were talking among themselves. I was the only one who had come with my ... friend? Boyfriend? Partner? Boy! I guess it was too late now to settle what kind of relationship we were in.
Percy smiled at me and squeezed my hand. Whatever relationship we had, I felt lucky to have him at my side.
Initially, I didn’t know what to expect, and I was scared of walking into a room with a group of women grieving about the loss of their babies. Despite the sad subject that had us all gathered there, there was a physical sense of both resolve and hope in the room.
We sat down and, after filling our information on a clipboard. A woman asked Percy, “We feel honored to have a male among us. Are you her husband?”
“He is the baby’s father, but we are not married,” I hurried to say, answering in his place.
“Yet,” Percy added, which brought a burst of laughter from the group.
Somehow he had managed to explain our situation in just one word.
Then, the testimonies started. There were a lot of tears, of course, but also a lot of hope. It was just what I needed: to be with women who had walked in my shoes and showed me that there was a way out of my situation. If those women did, I could survive this too.
I felt safe to tell them about Poppy. As I started to tell my story, tears began to roll down my cheeks. Percy took my hand in his and caressed it with his thumb.
The group fully understood my feelings, and as they listened, I began to realize that acknowledging my baby and my loss brought to me new healing in my spirit. It helped me just to talk about Poppy aloud with someone else. I realized the more I told my story, the better I felt, and the more right it seemed to share.
I was surprised to find out that many of my feelings of guilt and denial were normal and that other women also felt the way I did. They also felt isolated and hushed by the world about something that was deeply a part of them. The realization that I was not alone in my feelings, in my fears gave me peace. I felt alive again.
When I finished telling my tale amid the stream of tears, I felt like a great burden has been lifted.
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