Come Again

by Kate, Jiffy

  “I have an implant,” I repeat, my hand instinctively going to my left arm and rubbing at the spot I remember the implant being inserted. He already knows this. I just wrote it down on the admittance papers I filled out when I got here. “I have...”

  I try to breathe normally. Maybe this is a mistake?

  He pulls his brows together and then places a thoughtful finger on his lips. “Well, I’m going to guess the implant is no longer effective.”

  No longer effective.

  That nauseous feeling creeping up on me has nothing to do with sickness and everything to do with what Dr. Briggs is saying and how he’s looking at me and the raw adrenaline coursing through my body.

  I’m feeling lightheaded.

  “Would you like to wait on Shaw before I continue?” Dr. Briggs asks, his voice sounding farther away than it should. “Is he your...”

  “He’s my...my Shaw,” I tell him, placing my head in my hands and leaning onto my thighs, thinking about doing what I’ve been told to do if you feel faint and put my head between my legs.

  Breathe, Avery.

  Just breathe.

  “Should we wait for Shaw?”

  “No,” I blurt, sitting straight up and making the blood rush from my head. “No, please...” I glance at the curtain and feel my face drain of color. No Shaw. I can’t tell him. What’s he going to think...feel? This entire day has already been too much for him and all I wanted was to get a diagnosis and go home and sleep it off, but that won’t be happening. I won’t be sleeping this off.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, slipping off the bed and pacing the same spot Shaw had been pacing earlier. “I mean, there’s a chance it could be a false positive, right? That happens. I’ve heard of that happening...” I ramble, biting at the edge of my thumbnail. “Can you maybe do another test?”

  Calmly, Dr. Briggs stands and places a gentle hand on my arm. “Let’s have a seat and talk about it. Everything is going to be fine.”

  When I look up and meet his eyes, I think for a split second that he’s right and everything is going to be fine, and then I remember Shaw...and that he might come back through that curtain any moment and then everything will definitely not be fine.

  Chapter 38

  Shaw

  All the way down to the cafeteria and back, which felt like miles away, I sent up silent prayers to a god I’m not sure hears me anymore. Thankfully, Avery was sleeping when I slipped back into her makeshift room, so I stepped back out in the waiting room to give Sarah a call. And if I’m being honest with myself, I just needed a way to ground myself. The longer I stood in that small area, breathing in the sterile air, the more I felt myself slipping into that black abyss of grief. Memories have been hitting me like a battering ram ever since we walked through the sliding glass doors.

  I remind myself over and over that this is Avery and Avery is not Liz.

  Walking back into the triage area, I pocket my phone. Since we’ll probably be here a while, I wanted Sarah to know we wouldn’t make it for breakfast, but she didn’t sound too disappointed until I told her why. When I told her Avery is not feeling well and that we’re at the hospital, she turned into over-protective-mom-mode Sarah. I promised to call her as soon as I know anything and that seemed to keep her at bay, for now.

  Hopefully, there’s nothing to tell her.

  When I round the nurse’s station that’s positioned in the middle of the chaos that is the ER, I see the nurse who’s been with Avery since we got here and she’s rolling a machine toward Avery’s room. “What’s that?” I ask, panic rising in my throat.

  “Oh,” she says, glancing from me back to the curtain and then back again. “Uh...” she hesitates for a moment and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. Maybe Avery is contagious and I got whatever she has, because I feel like I could throw up right about now.

  “Is she okay? Why do you need that?” I point to the machine. “What is it?”

  The questions spill out of me in rapid succession.

  “Shaw?”

  I hear Avery calling for me and it’s then I realize I’ve raised my voice above what’s acceptable for the hospital and a few people are watching me, probably wondering if I’m going to be a problem. Spinning on my heel, I run toward the curtain and throw it back. Avery is sitting on the bed and her eyes are rimmed in red.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, running a shaky hand through my hair. How the hell did everything fall apart in the few minutes I was gone? The last time I saw her, she was sleeping peacefully and the nurse was on our side, guessing it’s the flu or a virus. So, why does everyone look like they have horrible news to tell me? “What’s wrong?” I repeat, looking back to Avery and then going to her, taking her face in my hands.

  “Well,” Avery starts, worrying her lip between her teeth as her brows pull together. She’s trying to keep from crying and I can’t stand it. I want to rewind to last night when we were wrapped around each other and everything felt perfect, like we were getting this incredible chance at happiness. I don’t understand what I did to deserve a second chance like Avery, but fuck if I’m not grateful for it. So why does it feel like it’s slipping between my fingers?

  “Just tell me,” I plead, losing my grasp on all rational thought. “What’s wrong?” This time I turn to see Dr. Briggs standing beside the nurse and the ominous machine she rolled in beside her. When I look back to Avery, she’s staring at the doctor, her silent plea for help filling the small space. Slowly, she drops her eyes back to her lap where her hands are twisting the bottom of her sweatshirt. After a few moments—enough time for me to jump to every horrible conclusion known to man—she finally says, “I’m pregnant.”

  Releasing her face, I stumble back, cocking my head to the side and blink rapidly as I try to wrap my brain around those two words. I’m pregnant. Avery’s pregnant. “I’m sorry?” I ask, barely recognizing my own voice. I’m not sure what I’m feeling, but the strongest emotion is disbelief.

  How can this be?

  “Pregnant,” Dr. Briggs confirms. “We got a couple of the blood tests back. One indicating high levels of HCG, which is the hormone the body produces when pregnant. We’re not finished running all the panels, but since Miss Cole’s symptoms line up with the regular symptoms of early pregnancy, we’re fairly confident the only thing she’s ailing from is a growing fetus.” The light chuckle that follows his explanation sounds nearly joyful, but it’s not registering with the loud rush of blood pulsing in my ears.

  Sitting down in the chair, I cradle my head in my hands and run my fingers through my hair again, pulling a little, just hard enough to cause pain, anything to make sure I’m awake and not dreaming.

  Avery’s pregnant.

  Looking back up at her, she’s staring at me with a void look on her face and I feel my stomach drop again. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, standing back up and walking over to her, crouching beside the bed, realizing what a dick I’m being, making this all about me. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “I thought...I’m really sorry. I thought I was covered.”

  “It seems as though Miss Cole has a birth control implant that tends to only be effective for the first three years. Since it’s been a little over four, it’s probably that its efficiency declined, leaving her susceptible to pregnancy.” Dr. Briggs’ even, medical tone gives me a chance to process and at least get a grip on myself. I need to be present for Avery. She needs me. I’ll figure out my own shit later, so I nod so he at least knows I heard what he said.

  “We’re going to do an ultrasound to see if we can determine how far along she is and then we’ll need to schedule an appointment to have the implant removed. We’ll also need to find you an obstetrician. You’ll more than likely be a high risk pregnancy due to the implant being present during conception,” the nurse adds. “We’ll give you a minute to change into the gown. As soon as the OB on staff makes it up here, we’ll get the ultrasound done and get you discharged so you can go hom
e and rest.”

  Avery just nods, eyes back on her hands in her lap.

  Once we’re in relative privacy, I pull her into my chest. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her words cracking with emotion. “I know we haven’t discussed this and it’s probably—”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” I tell her, cutting her off. I don’t want to discuss anything besides what’s right in front of us. “Let’s get you in this gown and do the ultrasound.”

  A brief moment of relief floods my body, as I convince myself that pregnancy isn’t life threatening, and isn’t that all that matters? But then my mind betrays me and retrieves the memory of me and Liz in a similar situation, waiting on an ultrasound to hear the heartbeat of our baby. One that we never got.

  “Are you okay?” Avery asks with watery eyes and voice. “I know this is hard for you.”

  The fact that she understands and is so empathetic makes my heart split—one part still mourning what’s lost and the other part loving the girl in front of me.

  “Don’t worry about me.” I give her a small smile, willing the tears to stay away. Not right now. Not today. Instead, I focus on helping Avery pull off her sweatshirt and replace it with a hospital gown that I frown at in disgust. A few minutes later, the nurse is back and a new doctor is following her.

  “I’m Dr. Cambridge,” he says with a wide smile. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  Avery manages a forced smile and lays shaky hands on her abdomen as she leans back in the bed. My eyes follow her touch and suddenly it all starts to sink in.

  There’s a baby in there.

  Something Avery and I made.

  We might not have planned on it, but it’s here and there’s no going back.

  “Let’s see what we can find out, shall we?” the doctor asks, pulling up Avery’s gown and tucking her yoga pants down to her panty line. The flat stomach on display makes it all seem surreal again. How can this be? She looks fine...normal...definitely not pregnant.

  After he squeezes some lubricant on her skin, he takes a wand and begins moving it around on her stomach as sounds immediately start to fill the room. Moving to see the screen, my eyes grow and then squint when an image of a small, bean-shaped object comes into view.

  And then the loud thud of a heartbeat.

  Swooshing.

  Beating.

  Swooshing.

  Beating.

  Looking down at Avery, she’s entranced for a second, but then she squeezes her eyes closed allowing huge tears to cascade down her cheeks. I grab her hand, hoping she’ll look at me but when she doesn’t, I lean over and kiss the wet skin of her cheek and then her hair. “I love you,” I whisper.

  She’ll be okay.

  We’ll be okay.

  Liz has been gone for six years.

  Five was my milestone for getting my shit together. I gave myself those years to mourn and wallow in my sorrow. Sometimes, it was a daily battle with memories and despair, feeling like I was barely treading water.

  With everything going on lately—Avery, the baby, the memories, today’s anniversary—the heaviness I felt in my chest this morning made me feel like running, so I did. I climbed out of bed before daybreak and ran until my lungs burned and my legs felt like mush. Then, I went back home and showered and dressed, while Avery was still sleeping. Before leaving for the cemetery, which is where I spend every January 15th, I set a coffee cup under the Keurig, turning it on and placing a decaf coffee pod in it, with four creamers and one packet of sugar beside it, for when she’s awake.

  I think of leaving her a note, but I wouldn’t know what to say. We haven’t talked a lot in the last two weeks. She’s been giving me my space and I’ve selfishly been taking it. At night, I pull her to me and she melts into my touch. It’s those moments, in the dark and quiet, that I know we’re going to be okay. When I place my hand on her still flat stomach and she places hers over mine and we have silent conversations. She understands my reservations and fears and I understand hers. They’re different, but ultimately, we’re in this together.

  On my way there, I welcome the cool January air as it bites my skin, letting me know I’m alive. As I drive my bike up as close as I can get to where Liz is buried, I drop the kickstand and turn it off. Once the roar of the engine is out of the picture, I’m met with a familiar serene silence.

  Walking over and squatting down in front of the grave, I run my hand along the cool surface of the headstone, feeling the inscribed words beneath my palm.

  Elizabeth Louise Franklin-O’Sullivan

  February 22, 1980—January 15, 2012

  “To live in the hearts of those we love is never to die.”

  I pull out the small candle and lighter from my pocket. Digging out the old one from the last time I was here, I place it on the ground and drop the new one in its spot. Lighting it, I watch for a while as the flame flickers and burns, protected from the light breeze by the large slab of granite.

  The day I picked out what would mark her final resting spot, I felt like I wanted to erect a goddamn wall. The small pieces of stone just didn’t seem to suffice for a person who held such a large piece of me.

  “I’m sorry it’s been a while,” I start, brushing off the dead grass along the bottom edges, squatting so I’m eye to eye with her name.

  A bird chirps from a few feet away, perched on the top of another grave and steals my attention. We have a standoff for a few minutes—she stares at me, while I stare back—before the black wings take flight. Raven hair flutters through my mind, my fingers, although they’re still on the hard surface of the headstone, feel like they’re touching silk. For a split second, I feel like she’s right there with me. Closing my eyes, I take advantage of the audience and speak my peace.

  “I miss you, every day,” I whisper to her. “There was a time I felt like curling up beside this grave and dying alongside you. If that meant I could be close to you again, that’s what I wanted. But my promise to you—to live, love, and keep breathing—kept me from it.” I let out a rough laugh. “You knew what you were doing. You knew I could never break a promise to you, even in death.”

  Taking a moment to collect myself, I look around for the bird but it’s gone—taken flight with the wind. As I exhale loudly, I picture Liz doing the same...flying high, free from pain. “Thank you,” I say, turning back to the stone, both hands resting on the rough top edge. “Thank you for showing me what it’s like to love and be loved in return so fully. Thank you for not letting me give up. I’m not sure what you had in mind when you made me promise to keep living and loving, but I feel like you’ve had a hand in the turn my life has taken...so, thank you for that too.”

  The sting in my eyes makes me stand abruptly, wiping the back of my hand across my face. Glancing down at the flickering flame and then back at the words on the stone, I smile faintly. “You’re not going anywhere,” I promise her. “I’ll always love you...you’ll always have a place in my heart.”

  Sweat drips down my brow and I blink it away, licking my damp upper lip before continuing to pummel the bag. My arms beg for a reprieve, but I continue to pour every last drop of energy into the treated leather.

  “Should we tape a face onto the bag?” Sarah’s voice startles me, but I get in a few more punches before leaning into the bag and letting my body go limp. “Seems like you’ve got a lot of pent-up frustrations. Anyone in particular?”

  My mind goes to Avery.

  She’s who I’m hiding from.

  I can admit that now.

  Between the therapy sessions and my group sessions, I’m becoming well-versed in owning my shit. After yesterday’s group meeting, I stayed late to discuss the baby with Ellen, who thinks it’s the best thing to happen to me since Avery.

  My head has been in a constant state of confusion for the past few weeks. Worry, fear, anxiety—they all plague me, making me think the worst. But I’m also happy...so fucking happy. And I wish I could t
ell Avery that, but every time I think about opening up to her, I just freak out and find something to do. The fear of saying something to fuck all of this up is paralyzing me, keeping me from saying anything at all.

  What if I jinx it?

  What if my own insecurities and fears bleed over to her...and the baby?

  What if I speak all the negative shit floating around in my head into existence?

  “How’ve you been holding up?” Sarah asks and we both know what she’s referring to. The anniversary of Liz’s death isn’t one we celebrate or call attention to, but Sarah recognizes it in her own way, just like I do.

  “I’m fine,” I tell her, out of breath from my punishing workout.

  “Then what’s eating at you?” Her shoes make a sharp noise as they tread across the apartment floor. “You’ve been spending more time up here than the bar and home put together. Avery has called a few times to check on you. She’s worried...and so am I.”

  When she sighs and pulls out one of the chairs at the table, I push away from the bag and grab my sweat towel, scrubbing it through my hair and down my face. I should’ve had a talk with Sarah last week, but I didn’t. If bottling up emotions was an Olympic sport, I’d be a fucking gold medalist.

  “I have something to tell you,” I admit, sitting down on the weight bench and dropping my head between my shoulders.

  “Okay,” Sarah replies, shifting in her seat.

  When I look up at her, she’s mimicking my position—elbows on knees, hands folded. Her eyes are boring into mine, like she’s trying to use x-ray vision to find the answer.

  “Avery’s pregnant.”

  Sarah’s eyes flare, her head cocking to the side like she didn’t hear me correctly, but then a smile splits her face and she stands, cupping her mouth. “Shaw,” she whispers in awe, tears springing up and threatening to fall. When she moves toward me, she freezes, realizing I’m still sitting and I haven’t stood to accept her impending congratulations. “What’s wrong?”