Fighting Jacob

by Shandi Boyes

  He tries to talk, but I beat him to the task. “Now tell me again how much you love me.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Jacob

  Lola doesn’t give me a chance to respond to her comment. She just slips into her car, starts the ignition, then takes off down the street. I do love her. I love her with all my heart, but now I understand why she looks at me like she does.

  When she handed me my phone, the first photos showed me tucking dollar bills into a stripper’s panties. I was embarrassed, but tell me one bachelor party that hasn’t featured strippers? It was only once I continued scrolling did I realize what her anger centered around. The topless woman I bumped into the morning after Noah's party starred in several photos with me.

  The most risqué thing she did was sit in my lap, but the last photo was by far the worst. She was kneeling between my splayed thighs, lowering the zipper on my pants.

  Even seeing evidence of my betrayal firsthand hasn’t freed the buried memories in my head. I thought my haziness was because I haven’t had time to sit down and evaluate what happened that night, but this proves that isn’t the case.

  I fucked up. I can't put it any more simply than that. And for what? A woman who isn't half the woman Lola is. If everyone weren't relying on me, I'd bury myself in a hole in the middle of New Mexico. Unfortunately, not even death would guarantee me an hour of peace.

  My strides into Noah’s room slow when I overhear a conversation in the bathroom. Both voices are female, but I only recognize one of them. Emily.

  “When did Noah last see you, Emily?”

  I hear Emily sniffle before she replies, “The day of his accident.”

  A toilet seat dropping into place overtakes my pulse shrilling in my ears.

  “Can you explain to me what happened that day?”

  “Yeah... umm...I was rushing to tell Noah... to tell him something important when the traffic became bumper-to-bumper. A police officer said there was an accident and that I had to go another route. When I put my car in reverse, my intuition begged me to stay, so instead of doing as the officer requested, I ran toward the crash scene.”

  I float closer to the bathroom, interested in the rest of Emily’s confession. She’s never told me this story.

  “A detective who knows Noah was standing behind the police barrier. When he recognized me, he walked over to me, and that’s when I spotted the guitar I had bought Noah for his birthday on the roadside. It was shattered beyond repair.” She chokes back a sob. “But it was nothing compared to how badly Noah’s body was damaged. He was just left of the accident scene... There were half a dozen EMTs working on him.”

  A lady with shoulder-length blonde hair bobs down in front of Emily. “Was Noah unconscious by then?”

  Emily shakes her head. “No, he said my name when I kneeled down beside him.”

  “Then what happened?” the stranger probes.

  “Noah started convulsing.” Emily twists a tissue tightly around her fingers. “That’s when I was dragged away from him by his detective friend.”

  “Okay. That helps. Thank you for sharing.” The blonde squeezes Emily’s knee before standing. “I think the circumstances that pushed Noah into his comatose state are the reason he reacts negatively any time I mention you during our sessions.”

  A sob tears from Emily’s throat. It sounds like it came from a woman who just had her heart cracked into a million pieces. It’s the noise I expect Lola to make if she ever gives in to the hurt I see in her eyes.

  “I’m not saying Noah doesn’t love you, Emily. He’s fighting to come back to you. We just need to work out how we can do that in a positive way.”

  When the unknown woman spins around without warning, I get busted standing in the doorway like a creeper. With my mind shut down, I blurt out the first thing that pops my head. “Is everything okay? You? The baby?”

  Emily looks five seconds from killing me as she grinds out, “We’re fine. Both of us.”

  When the lady wearing a white doctor's coat drops her gaze to the barely visible bump in Emily's midsection, I mouth a silent apology. I've never been good at thinking on the spot.

  "I’m sorry, Em, you know what I’m like when I’m nervous. I speak out of my ass.”

  Emily rolls her eyes as she continues down the corridor. We’re going to the cafeteria for lunch. It’s the least I can do after breaking news of her pregnancy before she was ready. “It’s fine; don’t worry about it. I doubt I can keep my secret much longer. My belly is too round.”

  “You could blame it on donuts?”

  When she laughs, some of the guilt on my shoulders eases. "Speaking of airless holes, how was your anger management class this morning? Do you still think your counselor is a few nuts short of a fruitcake?"

  My thoughts immediately drift to Lola, but I try to keep the mood carefree. “A few nuts short? He’s got enough for two cakes.”

  Emily laughs again. It’s nice to hear with how tired she looks. I thought my time away would only be tough on me. If the bags under her eyes are anything to go by, I was way off the mark.

  After grabbing the cafeteria special, we take a seat at one of the many empty tables. This is the first time we’ve sat and eaten since Noah's accident. I doubt either of us would have left Noah's side if the lady in charge of his physical therapy hadn't banned us from his room during this session. She wants to test out a new technique that she doesn't believe she can do with Emily and me in the room.

  I prepare my stomach for the slosh on my plate that’s supposed to be sweet and sour chicken before shoveling a forkful in my mouth. I gag. It's worse than predicted. I've never tasted something so disgusting, and Lola and I have sampled some crazy food the past two years.

  “Who was the lady in the bathroom with you?” I ask through the bile racing up my throat.

  Emily pulls a face before explaining that Dr. Miller is a specialist Noah’s record label brought in to help with Noah’s recovery. She works exclusively with coma patients, and although her techniques are unheard of, they’re believed to be effective. She sounds like a whack job to me, but whatever floats your boat.

  I stop checking my phone to see if Lola has returned any of the calls I made en route to the hospital when Emily gags. “How are you eating that? It’s disgusting!”

  I freeze with my fork sitting a mere inch from my mouth when she pushes her plate away from her. I arch a brow, reminding her what the doctor warned during her brief admission at the ER months ago. Slops might not be tasty, but it’s better than nothing.

  My brows lower when she rolls her eyes before popping a chunk of the bread roll that came with our orange broth into her mouth. "Better?"

  “Much.”

  Now can you work your magic on your sister?

  After spending my weekend with Noah, Emily, and Dr. Miller, I walk into the Hopeton House for my second week of community service. Dr. Miller has an... interesting personality. She seems a little standoffish, but after watching the effort she puts into her sessions with Noah, I began to wonder if she's misunderstood. A lot of women are misunderstood these days, but none more so than Lola.

  It took hours of voicemail groveling and over two dozen text messages before Lola returned my contact. It was only a brief, one-line message, but the fact she replied at all gave me a glimmer of hope that I haven't completely fucked things up with her.

  I’ll make things right with her; I’ve just got to sort out my messed up life first.

  The next two weeks follow along a similar path. I do community service at Hopeton House Monday to Friday, then Friday night to Monday morning, I stay at the hospital with Emily and Noah. Dr. Miller—or Rachel, as she has asked me to call her—has become a close acquaintance the past two weeks. She’s conservative but a good listener. She often lends me an ear when I need to gripe about my anger management classes. I wouldn’t mind taking them if I had an issue with anger, but since I don’t, they’re a pain in my ass—nearly as painful as the lumpy recliner I�
��m sleeping in.

  As I shuffle from my right ass cheek to my left, I notice Emily slipping out of Noah’s bed. She’s slept at his side since the day he was transferred. I can’t see it being comfortable. His bed is larger than the one he had at Parkwood, but it’s still a twin. I guess that’s why she’s walking awkwardly? She’s barely lifting her feet as she makes her way to the bathroom.

  My eyelids are in the process of closing when a startled “No!” comes out of the bathroom.

  My muscles groan in disgust when I head to the bathroom to check on Emily. “You okay?”

  Nothing but silence greets me.

  I rattle the door handle to check if it’s locked. It is.

  “Em?”

  I’m seconds from busting down the door to make sure she hasn’t passed out when she murmurs, “Just a minute.”

  When she throws open the bathroom door, I take a step back. Her face is as white as a ghost, and she appears seconds from crying. Before I can ask her what's wrong, she barges past me and races into the hallway.

  I follow after her. “What’s wrong?”

  Her lips twitch, but not a word falls from her mouth. I peer into her watering eyes as I strive to figure out what would make her this upset. It isn't Noah. He's still in a coma, but he's doing better every day. I was talking to Lola last night, and I know she's fine, so other than that, I’m stumped. Unless...

  “Is it the baby?”

  She uses her sleeve as if it’s a tissue before nodding. “I’m bleeding.”

  My heart plummets into my stomach. I don’t know anything about pregnancy, but I’m reasonably sure you’re not supposed to bleed when you’re pregnant.

  When a pained sob rips through Emily’s body, I tug her to my chest. “It’s okay; it’ll be okay.” I run my hand down her hair as my brain struggles to work out what to do. “What can I do? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t tell Noah. Dr. Miller is adamant he can hear us, so I don’t want him to know I lost our baby.”

  Her response kills me for two reasons. One, I hate keeping secrets, but more than that, the thought of her miscarrying now, this far into her pregnancy, is devastating. “Are you sure you’ve lost it? Maybe this is just a part of pregnancy, and the baby is okay?”

  Emily stiffens. When I glance over my shoulder, I discover the cause for her frozen state. Dr. Miller is standing just behind me. I can't guarantee she didn't hear us, but the worried expression on her face is questioning.

  Emily waits until she’s out of earshot before raising her eyes to mine. “I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve never done this before.”

  "Could you ask someone? What about Jenni? She only had Jasper a couple of months ago."

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want anyone to know. Noah deserves to know before anyone else.”

  Although I agree with her, she needs to speak to someone...

  My thoughts trail off when my brain finally switches off sleep mode. Emily stares at me in shocked silence when I yank my cell phone out of my pocket and type “pregnancy doctors” in the search bar. I scroll down the list of candidates until I find one that offers emergency appointments.

  When I tap the number and raise my phone to my ear, Emily freaks. “You can’t tell anyone.”

  Before I can assure her I’ll never share her secret, a chirpy female voice answers my call. “Dr. Morgan’s office.”

  "Hello, I need to make an urgent appointment, please. My friend is...” I stop, remembering I have no clue how far Emily is. I cup my phone before dropping my eyes to Emily. “How many weeks are you?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. I think four or five months?”

  I devote my attention back to my phone. “My friend is four to five months pregnant, and she started bleeding today.”

  “Oh, dear. Let me see what appointments we have.” A keyboard being stroked sounds down the line before, “Will 2 PM work? I’ll need payment upfront.”

  “That’s fine.” I dig my wallet out of my pocket before giving my credit card details over the phone.

  “Wonderful. You’re all set. Ask your friend to drink lots of water before arriving. The doctor may do an ultrasound to check on things, so the fuller her bladder is, the better.”

  “Okay, thank you. Bye.” I shove my credit card back into my wallet before returning my focus to Emily. She’s peering up at me with big, wide eyes. “Dr. Morgan, a local obstetrician, scheduled you for an emergency appointment at 2 PM today. It’s been paid; you just need to show up. The reception said to drink lots of fluids before you arrive, something about needing to have a full bladder or something?”

  “Okay.” She sounds both relieved and panicked. “What about Noah? I don’t want to leave him.”

  “I’ll stay with him.” When she hesitates, I sweeten the deal. “You’ll never forgive yourself if there was something you could have done to save your baby and didn’t. Noah is fine. I won’t leave his side.”

  “Okay.” Fresh tears glisten in her eyes.

  I wipe them away before they can fall, then nudge my head to Noah’s room. “Come on, let’s see how his session is going, then I’ll call a cab to take you to your appointment.”

  “I... umm... have to... umm... get lady things.”

  My cheeks heat. “Okay. I'd offer to get them for you, but I wouldn’t have the faintest clue what to get.”

  “I’d never ask you to do that. I just...” Her words drop as quickly as her eyes. She's staring at something below her waist. Something bright red and utterly terrifying. A massive trail of blood is gushing down her leg. "Oh, god."

  "It's okay. You'll be okay." I usher her into the bathroom, like hiding from the truth will stop it from happening. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

  I wait for her to nod before darting out of the room panicked. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do in these situations, but I’m hopeful the pharmacist in the hospital lobby will have more clue than me. I sprint down there as fast as my quivering legs will take me, blurt out my needs, and buy one of everything the female pharmacist suggests before bolting back to Noah’s room.

  Something inside of me cracks when Emily opens the bathroom door far enough I can see the amount of blood that seeped into her pants during my five minute trip to the pharmacy. She’s bleeding—a lot.

  Knowing I’m seconds from detonating, I move into the hall to pace. I drag my fingers through my hair before clenching and unclenching my fists. I’ve never wanted to punch something as badly as I do now.

  When will the pain stop?

  Hasn’t Noah been through enough?

  When Dr. Miller joins me in the corridor, I stop violently tugging on my hair. “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m...ah...it’s... ah...”

  With words eluding me, I raise my finger, requesting a minute. If I speak, my voice will crack, then the emotions I’m trying to strangle are at risk of being freed. Dr. Miller uneasily smiles before returning to Noah’s room.

  Several minutes later, after I’ve regained a small sense of composure, I stride back into Noah’s room. With Emily still in the shower, it’s just Noah, Dr. Miller, and me.

  “I know something that will cheer you up.” Dr. Miller motions for me to join her next to Noah’s bedside. When I do, she lowers her eyes to Noah. “Isn’t Emily beautiful, Noah?”

  I glare at her like she’s insane. No wonder she was ridiculed during medical school. She needs a straitjacket, not a doctor's coat.

  I take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about her when Noah’s lips tug into a smirk. It isn’t his usual broad grin, but it’s a smile nonetheless. The only thing that could make it better was if a thick, bushy beard didn't hide it.

  My heart quickens when a brilliant idea slams into me. “I’ll be back.”

  After kissing Dr. Miller's cheek in glee, I race back down to the pharmacist. She's alarmed when I ask to be pointed in the direction of shaving cream and razors. She can loo
k at me as if I'm batshit crazy as long as I get what I need. I want Emily to see Noah’s full smile, not one hidden by scruffy facial hair.

  I take a mental note to start using the stairs when my return to Noah's room arrives with a bout of breathlessness. I'm so unfit, Hank’s concerns about me becoming pudgy might be more factual than in jest.

  My fast pace slows when I notice Emily next to Noah’s bedside. Her dark locks are saturated and hanging loosely down her back, and her face still bears evidence of tears. She looks so defeated, beard or not, she needs to see Noah’s smile.

  After curling my hand around her in support, my eyes drift to Dr. Miller. “Show Emily what you showed me.”

  Dr. Miller’s smile competes with mine when she whispers, “Isn’t Emily beautiful, Noah?”

  The look on Emily’s face when she sees Noah smile is priceless. The gloomy cloud hovering above her head dissipates in an instant, replaced with one that reveals she's fighting just as bravely as Noah.

  “He’s smiling?” She raises her watering eyes to mine. “He’s smiling, Jacob.”

  “He is. He’s smiling about you.”

  “During our twice-daily sessions the past two weeks, I’ve been striving to replace Noah’s last memory of you with a happy, less confrontational one.” Dr. Miller joins us on the other side of Noah’s bed. “I’ve been asking him questions about your relationship before sharing stories about my own marriage. I’m still a little unsure what’s going on in that head of his, but I’m happy with his progress.”

  “Me too. That’s amazing.” Emily gazes lovingly at Noah. “He’s coming back. The old Noah is coming back.”

  “This might help him.” I move to the bedside table to grab the razor and shaving cream I purchased. “Do you want the pleasure, or shall I do it?” While waggling my brows, I wiggle the goodies in my hand.