So I let her go, figuring I’d save myself some scratches and dings. But it was odd. Even when I mentioned I was planning on breaking up with Jenna, she just shook her head, saying that “this was all too complicated” and “Jenna is my sister” and some more bullshit. Okay, maybe it wasn’t total bullshit, but it wasn’t anything that time wouldn’t cure. Fuck, it wasn’t like I was married to Jenna. We were only dating, and just a few months at that. Worse things have happened in the world.
Silently, I cursed at myself. What the fuck was going on? Had my inability to actively reject Jenna gotten me into this mess? Had I been too passive, allowing myself to be led along like a dumb mule? I cursed silently again. Normally a go-getter, I’d let myself be seduced by a pretty face and lithe body. Now it was too late, and I was now stuck with a witch … while the girl of my dreams disappeared into the horizon.
11
Tina
Six months later …
My baby mewled in my arms. Janie was beautiful, just the tiniest thing, crying a bit as I rocked her. Normally crying is a good sign because it shows that a baby has strong, healthy lungs and isn’t afraid to communicate her distress, sending adults scurrying to do her bidding. But with my daughter, things are different. Janie was born prematurely and she’s tiny for her age. Her crying was weak, her mewls pitiful. She doesn’t eat much, nor does she have the “rooting” instinct of newborns, the one that causes them to seek their mother’s breast for nutritious, life-giving milk.
I’d been trying to tempt her with formula instead, mixing different types, even adding Baby Ensure to get her the calories needed to thrive. But something was wrong, I could feel it even though we were just back from the hospital. Janie was growing weaker by the minute and my best efforts to nurse weren’t enough. We needed to go back
I burst into the Emergency Room, Janie in my arms.
“Please,” I gasped. “I need to see a pediatrician immediately. My baby won’t eat and she’s listless and limp.”
“She looks alright to me,” said the nurse with the briefest glance at the bundle in my arms. “There’s movement and she’s breathing. Put your name on the list, we’ll call when the pediatrician’s available,” she said, turning away.
Hot tears streamed down my cheeks as I scribbled my name in shaky script. My panting and gasping was audible to everyone in the waiting room and not a few people looked at me with pity, a single woman with a tiny bundle in my arms, desperate for help. Janie’s blanket was literally damp from my tears, and I grew more panicked by the second as my baby grew weaker, draining of life.
Finally my name was called. “Tina Walsh,” harrumphed an old lady. I followed the pink scrubs to a waiting room where a pediatrician waited, exhaustion lining her face.
“And what have we here?” she said, reaching for Janie.
But the minute she looked at my child, her expression changed from one of tiredness to alert urgency.
“We need to get this baby hydrated now,” she said to the nurse. “NOW!”
“She won’t drink,” I sobbed quietly. “I’ve tried everything to get her to drink my breast milk, formula, anything, but she just won’t suckle.”
“Ma’am, we’re going to push an IV on your daughter so that she gets the fluids she needs,” said the doctor. “Drinking fluids orally isn’t enough, we need to administer it directly to her bloodstream.”
I sat down limply.
“But she’s just a baby,” I said woodenly. “What’s wrong with her? Why is this happening? We only left the hospital a few days ago, she’s a newborn,” I whispered hoarsely.
“Ma’am, we don’t know but we’re going to find out,” the doctor said firmly. “She’ll be in the NICU for observation. In the meantime, if you could please wait in the waiting room, we’ll call you as soon as we have a diagnosis.”
I walked like a zombie into the hallway, utterly miserable. The fluorescent lights were bright, making it seem like artificial daytime although it was night. The waiting room was hushed, filled with people hacking and bleeding, looking worse for the wear. I didn’t want to be there. Everyone here was sick or dying, and I didn’t want to acknowledge that I was a part of this desperate scene too, the mother of a seriously ill child.
“Jake help me!” I screamed in my head. Although I’d been the one who’d dismissed him, I was suddenly furious at him. His daughter was in the NICU with an IV in her little body and he had no fucking idea.
Acting on impulse, I scrabbled my cell phone out of my purse and began dialing furiously. Oh shit! I didn’t have his cell, I only had his business line. Desperately, I rang the number and was met with an automated voice announcing, “Manning Pharmaceuticals is now closed. Please call back during our hours of operation.” I hung up, panting, furious, sweat beading my brow. I could have wrung Jake’s throat, but what were my options? I was literally helpless with panic and desperation.
Breathe, breathe, I told myself. This might be a scary moment, but as a single mom I knew there were more to come. After all, what did I expect? Leaving Jake was a conscious decision, even if it was made under complicated circumstances.
In the meantime, maybe I could ask my family for support. But the more I thought of it, the more I realized how unlikely it was. Jenna had been her usual self-centered self when my pregnancy started to show.
“Who’s the father Tina?” asked my sister nonchalantly. “I’m so surprised by this turn of events. It’s not like you’re … well, I never thought you could get a man. You don’t exactly project feminine charms, you know,” she said.
“Um okay,” I said wryly. Normally, this would have hurt, made me cringe internally and wonder why I wasn’t tall and svelte like my twin. But lately things were different. Insults from Jenna just slid off my back, probably because I was focused on more important things like getting my diploma, having my baby, and getting the hell out of Dodge.
“No seriously, Tina,” repeated my sister. “Who’s the father? Mom says you haven’t told her either and no one has seen you around campus with a guy. Seriously Teen, fess up. Did you go with artificial insemination? Did you go through a database of donors and select a profile you liked? Was he cute?” she said conspiratorially.
I had to laugh at that one. That would be the last thing on my mind, to use donor sperm. But I was unusually charitable towards my sister because she had no inkling of the truth … which was that her fiancé was the father of my baby, through natural methods, no test tubes necessary, thank you very much.
And as far as I knew, Jake and Jenna were still engaged to be married. I certainly hadn’t contacted him after our fateful meeting at the Manning offices, instead deleting his contact info from my phone and trying not to think about him, if possible. Whenever I did, images of his dark visage, those penetrating blue eyes made my insides grow moist to my chagrin. I was supposed to be detaching from this man, not fantasizing about him!
Nor had I bothered to enlighten my sister. There was no point. Jake and I were never going to see each other again, and the fact that I was going to have his baby was my secret to keep. He was in my past, this dark, ruthless man who had upended my world, and I just wanted to move on, especially since I’d found temporary peace.
Besides, I had no reason to believe Jake had broken off the engagement. Jenna still chattered non-stop about her upcoming nuptials with “Jake this, Jake that, my diamond this, my wedding dress that,” and I could tell she was quickly alienating any so-called friends, her narcissism boundless, a bridezilla for the ages. Sure, there were girls who simpered when Jenna spoke, but it was in the hopes of meeting a millionaire at her wedding. Those poor women, they made me sad and I shook my head at how backwards some people still were.
I swallowed firmly, getting myself in hand. I had made these choices, an empowered woman of the ages, to bring a baby into the world on my own. I had a burgeoning career, a new life in a new town, and I’d already made it known that I wasn’t going to be at Jenna’s wedding.
�
�Why not?” she’d asked suspiciously. “I swear, you’re so self-centered, Teen. It’s not like I’m going to pick ugly bridesmaids dresses, I mean you won’t look great with a huge stomach, but whatevs … all eyes will be on me,” she said, shrugging.
“It just wouldn’t be right, I have my reasons,” I’d said firmly.
“Fine, have it your way,” she flounced. “Matt Manning asked about you by the way. He wanted to know why you haven’t been around lately.”
Ah Matt, the country charmer. I missed him, his genuine warmth, the way he sensed instinctively my tense family relationships. “Just tell him I’ve been busy with school,” I said quietly. I couldn’t bring myself to say any more because Matt must have been part of the Pernacular scheme, jacking up the price of a precious medication and putting pregnant women at risk.
Shaking myself of the reverie, I sat up straighter in the waiting room’s hard plastic chair. Was it my imagination or had someone just called my name? Ah Pink Scrubs was back, barking, “Walsh. Tina Walsh.”
“Me, I’m here,” I started, bolting upright. I rushed over to where she stood, hoping I looked better than I felt, like a competent adult able to make difficult decisions. The nurse spun on her heel, and I sighed and followed, my mind too numb to process anything.
I was led to a private room, where the ER pediatrician and another doctor were waiting. There was no examination table, merely a conference room with some chairs, one of those x-ray boards behind them. Hopefully, we weren’t going to have to use it.
But both doctors had serious expressions of their faces and my nerves screamed high alert when the pediatrician made sure to close the door firmly after the nurse left.
“Ms. Walsh,” she began seriously, her face somber but kind. “Please let me introduce my colleague Dr. Conwell,” she said, nodding to the elderly man beside her. “We may as well dive right into it. Dr. Conwell is a pediatric oncologist, specializing in the treatment of children with cancer. Is there a history of cancer in your family?”
“C-c-cancer?” I asked. “No, why?” I rushed. “Is Janie okay? Where is she?” I asked frantically, looking around.
“Your baby is in the NICU still,” said Dr. Conwell gravely. “But we ask because it appears that Janie has a particularly aggressive strain of leukemia which likely manifested when she was still in the womb. Did you go to any third world countries when you were pregnant? Did you ingest anything suspicious like tropical fruits, meat that wasn’t fully cooked, even herbal medicines?”
“No, everything that I ate was kosher and I’ve been in California the entire time I’ve been pregnant,” I said plaintively. “In fact, I haven’t even left the Bay Area.”
The doctors looked at each other. “Is there anything that you could have done that exposed you to a parasite? Maybe walked barefoot in a park, or punctured yourself with a sharp object?”
“No,” I reiterated plaintively. “Well, do cats count? I was housesitting a friend’s cat, not even really housesitting, I’d go over and fill up her water and food bowls. The damn cat scratched me pretty badly, I had a rash for a little while, but it was nothing,” I said, almost crying. “Please tell me it’s nothing.”
The doctors shared another glance.
“We don’t have any answers at this point,” said Dr. Conwell cautiously, “but it’s possible that the cat infected you with a parasite which then invaded your fetus, causing cancer in your baby … in this case blood cancer, or leukemia.”
“Leu- leu- leukemia?” I gasped. “That can’t be right, Janie is a newborn.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Dr. Conwell, “but our initial tests indicate that Janie’s got a rare form of leukemia where abnormal white blood cells form in the bone marrow. The abnormal cells quickly travel through the bloodstream and crowd out healthy cells, causing all sorts of damage, which has manifested through the baby’s lack of appetite, a slight fever, weight loss, and general failure to thrive. I’m afraid that her symptoms will only get worse,” he said sadly.
“But what can we do?” I asked, my voice rising with panic. “Surely there has to be something. You can’t tell me it’s over before it’s begun.”
“Ms. Walsh, the only treatment is experimental at this stage and prohibitively expensive,” said Dr. Conwell.
“Tell me what it is!” I practically shrieked. I would come up with the money, one way or another. With my new job starting soon, I’d soon be flush, making a decent lawyer’s salary.
“The medication is one called Pernacular,” said the good doctor slowly. “Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s a single-source generic produced by only one company, which recently raised its price to over a thousand dollars per pill. Janie would need three pills daily for six months I’m afraid, making any treatment unrealistic.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m so sorry to break the news to you. It’s hard to know that there is an option just out of reach.”
But my mind had screeched to the halt at the word “Pernacular.” Pernacular, Pernacular, Pernacular, the words kept ringing in my mind like a taunt. I’d cut off Janie’s father because of his ruthless profit-seeking, but suddenly I knew I had an option, a way out. Sure, I’d have a ton of explaining to do and it wouldn’t be easy, but I’d do anything for my little girl … even if Jake drove an impossible bargain.
12
Jake
I was growing bored at the head of the conference table. As usual, my brothers and I were surrounded by a bevy of lawyers, bankers, media strategists, publicists, and their hangers-on, all wanting to tell us what to do. I wanted to tell them, “Listen, Manning Pharma has made you rich as fuck … so shut the fuck up.”
But no such pronouncement left my lips. I didn’t want to be branded a rogue CEO anymore than necessary because there was already a ton of bad press about Pernacular and Manning’s decision to jack up the price. What people didn’t understand was that the decision wasn’t so simple, nor the outcome so black and white. Despite the price increase, patient co-pays are actually lower; many patients get the drug at no cost; Manning has since expanded our free drug program; and half of our drugs are available for one dollar, making them accessible to all.
Unfortunately, the media had focused on only one aspect, Pernacular’s list price, which isn’t the price insurers pay. Anyone familiar with the drug industry knows that insurers often haggle like old women, driving down the actual price to a mere fraction of what we charge. So the $700 pill touted by the media was largely an illusion, subject to the whims of a host of interested parties.
I cursed mentally. And yet here I was in this miserable position, listening to publicists put forth their plans for “re-framing the issue” and such bullshit. I wanted to kick their asses for putting us in this position in the first place.
Fuck my life. I just couldn’t see how things could get worse. The woman I was crazy about had left me with no reason except that “she couldn’t do this.” What the fuck did that mean? It was so vague and evasive, impossible to understand. What started as a hot fuck had turned into much more, Tina’s intelligence and sassiness intriguing me until I was downright near-obsessive about the girl.
But I had no idea where she was now. I’d been tempted to set a PI on her trail, but my male pride had forced me to let her go. So the brunette had disappeared into the masses and I was too proud to admit that my heart had been broken by a woman I’d slept with only twice … but gotten to know in a myriad of ways, good and bad, her amazing and her less amazing traits, all of which I adored.
Fuck me, I cursed. Life just sucked on all angles. Fortunately, at that moment Mary Beth opened the door and said, “Gentlemen, I’ve received an urgent call for Mr. Manning,” she said, nodding my way. “Please excuse him for a minute.”
MB is my long-time assistant and she calls the shots. If an issue was urgent, then I trusted her judgment. But more likely MB knew I was dying and was pulling me out of the meeting so that I could get a much-needed break. Fuck, Matt could take care of it, he was the VP of Mark
eting after all.
I made my excuses and headed towards the door.
“This way, Mr. Manning,” said MB. “You have a guest waiting for you in your office.”
I strode into my office, my mind on a million things. I looked around, ready to dismiss my visitor but came to a full stop when I saw who it was. Tina. The girl who’d left me gasping, empty, my nights fucking endless, my days a nightmare as I fought through the media storm. Why was she back?
“Hi Jake,” she said quietly, her eyes wide. She looked delicious. Instead of wearing her usual plaid, Tina was dressed in a navy blue shirtdress which clung to her curves, outlining that voluptuous body. Her hair was a riotous mass of curls, unrestrained and springing free, those chestnut ringlets gleaming in the light. Plus, she had high heels on, my favorite, showing off her toned calves to their best advantage.
But I also noticed signs of strain, bags under her eyes, lines of tension around her mouth that hadn’t been there before.
“Well, well,” I rumbled. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Jake,” she said quickly. “Thank you for seeing me--”
“It wasn’t me who decided to see you,” I cut her off. “Mary Beth plunked me in here with no advance warning,” I said shortly.
My tone didn’t ruffle the brunette. “Then thank you Mary Beth,” she murmured. “I just need a few minutes,” she continued, “You see, we have a daughter together.”
I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
“I’m sorry?” I said slowly. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly. Did you just say we have a child together?”
“Ye-yes,” she stammered hesitantly. I was glad at least something made the girl stumble.
“Okay … just so I understand. You’re saying that of the two times we had sex, one time my little guys swam up to one of your eggs, and made love, sweet love, resulting in a baby?” I said sarcastically. I couldn’t help it. I wanted her so badly but I also wanted her to pay for putting me through these months of misery.
Just One Inch Page 6
