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When I woke up this morning, curled up in the chair in my little girl's hospital room, the twin surges of joy and heartache
that cut through me actually stole my breath for a moment.
Today is her birthday. She is 2 years old, and she is going to live. I will not regret anything that made that possible,
though I would change a thousand choices I've made along the way if I could and the end result would be she was still here,
alive and beautiful and amazing and the center of my universe.
But there are no guarantees that would be the case if I changed even one thing.
That thought leads me back to the heartache.
It's not the heartache of the moments when we stand here in this room or outside in the hallways and bray and claw at
one another. That pain is tolerable to me because I know how to handle it. I know how he tries to hurt and I know how to
countermove and wound him just as deeply. It's what we do. It's what we used to do to others and now do to one another.
I wish that was all there was. It's sad, but I do. Because that I could do 24/7 and never stop to think about, and I
would never feel anything for him but anger and frustration.
But there's more... as always with us, there is more.
He came to us... in my dream last night. He came and he told us that he chose life... life with his daughter, life with
me. He said that he wanted to grow old. He wanted to see his grandchildren. He wants to feel safe without a gun at his
side and bodyguards outside the door.
I promised him we could give him that. I promised him that we would never leave him.
And then I woke up... and that sick feeling was back in my stomach where it lays in wait for me every time I see that
flicker of the man I loved in his eyes.
I fear always that Sonny will never make that choice... that someday I will stand next to a grave and try to find a reason
that this man who is so much could never choose life over the demons that drive him.
And no matter what he does... no matter what I say... I can't seem to stop hoping that he will... that someday he will
need us more than he needs to be "Sonny Corinthos." But I live in the reality that unless he makes that choice,
"we" cannot be. And as our daughter stirs and wakes to celebrate her second year in this world, I wonder if he
ever wishes things were different.
*****
The emptiness in my home only made it all the more terrible to wake up today and face what lay ahead. More grief, more
good-byes... more fighting not to lose what I love as it all pulls against my grasp, straining to break free.
One precious thing, though, will not be lost. Kristina is getting well. I can feel it. Today is her birthday in more
ways than one, because it's when her second chance at life truly begins. And I want it to be happy... more than anything,
I want her life to be happy.
But we're standing in the way of that... her mother and I both. Every time we see each other, it's there, that stone
wall between us, neither of us willing to give in on what we think is best for her. Part of me admires the hell out of that,
out of Alexis' stubborn determination to put Kristina first in every single moment. But she thinks I'm part of what she needs
to protect Kristina from... and so I have to find a way over, around or through that wall... I have to.
But I also know I helped build the wall, sharing equal effort with Alexis in its firm construction. I know this woman...
I know her... and I chose not to see every single lie she told me for some reason I still don't understand. Another lie.
I understand.
I've wondered more than once what might have been had I met her sooner. If Alexis Davis had shown up in my life five
years earlier... ten years... if she had been there when I was just making my living running strip clubs for Joe Scully.
Would that man have even noticed how amazing she was, or would he have been too busy chasing after power to see her?
It's wasted energy, I know. I wouldn't change having my sons, I wouldn't want to have missed out on knowing Stone or
Brenda or Robin, and a different path might have changed all that. But I can't help but wonder sometimes, when my anger with
her drops away enough for me to think about it.
When we're staring each other down over that wall, it's easy not to thing about the what ifs. When she throws my life
back in my face, I remember her standing beside me in court fighting for me, and I want to scream back, "what changed?"
But I don't. I say things to try to hurt her back, and I try to scare her because I already know the answer to my question.
She loved the me I gave to her... but she cannot love all of me. And I need her to. I need her to say that she can love
me in spite of the things she's seen that she hates in me and regardless of what I've said to her that scared her or hurt
her or made her doubt me.
I look at Kristina and I know that it was real... that everything I thought was there between was, everything I doubted
when Alexis walked away from me was really there. That's the only reason that little girl exists. That's the only reason
Alexis and I ever found ourselves that vulnerable to one another. It was real.
But it wasn't enough.
And I need it to be enough. I need her to want what I am, not who I could be. I need her to say that she can love me
this way... because I'm terrified that even if I did everything she asked... even if I gave up all that I have, I would still
lose her... I would still lose the life I could have with her and with our little girl, and then what would I be?
I know what I want to be... I want to be Kristina's father, and I want to be with Alexis and share our daughter's life.
But I cannot surrender and she will not give in. And so today I'll go to the hospital and see our baby and don my armor
and prepare to say or do what I have to do to keep fighting for what I want, all the while knowing that Alexis will probably
never say what I need her to say... and that "we" cannot be.
And I'll wish that things were different.
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