Lies and Alibis

by Warren, Tiffany L.

  “I'm not mad at you, honey,” I finally reply. “I'm glad you're enjoying your meal.”

  “Whew! Good. Because, I called your sister, Sydney, and she's prepared to sit down with us and figure a way to loan us some money.”

  “Why did you do that?” I pace toward the range with measured and careful steps. I feel a small rage building in the pit of my stomach. Time after time I've told Bryan not to get my sisters involved in my business. I am the oldest and I don't need them bailing us out.

  “Because, no matter how much you don't want to admit it, we need help. You have five credit cards that are maxed out, our utilities are always on the disconnect notice, and we've been eating spaghetti and chili too many nights in a row. Something's got to give.”

  “What about my twenty five thousand dollar jackpot? Did you forget about that?”

  “I did not forget about it. I also didn't forget that I told you to donate it to the church after you pay our bills. We need to talk to your sister about helping us get out of our real debt.”

  I slam a rubber spoon down on the countertop. “How does that make any sense, Bryan? Why would we go begging my sister for money, and give my jackpot to the church. That's just stupid!”

  “Now you're being disrespectful. Why don't you trust me for a change? How do you know that God didn't place this in my spirit?”

  “Whatever Bryan! You're just trying to kiss up to pastor, and get to that inner church circle that keeps eluding you. Pastor had a dinner party at his house last weekend. It was an engagement party! Guess who he didn't invite? You! God didn't tell you to give the church my money!”

  “Your money?”

  “That's exactly what I said. I won it, so it's mine.”

  “If you don't obey me on this, Camille, there is going to be some trouble in our marriage.”

  As far as I'm concerned, there is already trouble in our marriage. “I'm telling my sister not to give you a dime, Bryan. You can save the Captain Caveman routine, because I'm not having it.”

  Bryan flings his plate of waffles across the table until it lands on the floor. His high yellow complexion is a shade of fire engine red, and he huffs and puffs like he's ready to blow somebody's straw house down.

  “Go ahead and have a temper tantrum. It's not going to change my mind.”

  Bryan stands up from the table and his fork lands on the floor with a clattering clank.

  “I'm going out. Don't wait up for me. You might not see me until church tomorrow.”

  I roll my eyes and sigh. Is this supposed to get me all scared and remorseful? Why should I be afraid of him? God’s got His hand on me! And if God is for me, who shall be against me?

  ~15~

  Sydney

  How is it that you can make the right decision, know you made the right decision and still feel absolutely rotten about the whole thing? I keep hashing and rehashing my last conversation with Lucas. I can’t stop thinking about it.

  I know that he was a cheater. At the time, an unapologetic one. Even if he’s remorseful now, how do I know that he won’t go back to that person? Since I can’t know for sure, I cannot give him my heart.

  One of my patients once told me that you cannot silence emotions with logic. At the time I disagreed with him. I’ve used logic to get me through every tough phase of my life. It was the only way I survived the first breakup with Lucas. Since I caught Lucas with my friend, logically he was a horrible boyfriend.

  It worked then. Why isn’t it working now?

  I frown at my patient’s chart. “Mrs. Rosen, your blood pressure is very high today. Have you been taking your prescription medication?”

  Mrs. Rosen pats my hand and smiles at me. “Oh, baby I ran out and I won’t be able to afford anymore until the first of the month.”

  “Well, I’m going to get you some samples that will last you through this week, but you can’t leave here until we get you back down into the normal range. I don’t want you to have a stroke.”

  “That makes two of us!” Mrs. Rosen says with a sad chuckle. “When my husband was alive, I never had to worry about how I was going to afford things. He took care of it all.”

  I want to tell Mrs. Rosen that if she gets her meth addict daughter and her five grandchildren out of her home that she would probably have enough money to pay for her medicine.

  Instead I ask, “Would you like me to send a social worker out to your home? They probably can get you some assistance, so that you’re not in this situation again next month.”

  “No. No social workers. God will provide. He always does. Like today, you’re my angel.”

  I say in a very quiet voice, “Mrs. Rosen, if you have a stroke and become incapacitated, who is going to look after your grandchildren?”

  She shakes her head and sighs. “My daughter is doing the best she can. I pray for her all the time. I know the Lord won’t take me home until He answers my prayers about her. He’s going to deliver her from that sickness.”

  See! The logic of the situation is this – Mrs. Rosen’s daughter is going to get worse and worse, until those drugs kill her. But will Mrs. Rosen do the right thing and get her some help? No. She’s hoping and wishing and praying.

  Why do people do that?

  “Have you found a fella yet, Dr. Sydney?” Mrs. Rosen asks. I know she’s trying to change the subject. She always does when I bring up her daughter.

  “No, I haven’t found anyone yet.”

  “Well, that’s because you ain’t supposed to be looking. He’s supposed to find you. That’s the way God wants it done.”

  “God must not have anyone in the cards for me right now, because I’m absolutely single.”

  Mrs. Rosen’s eyes gleam. “You never know honey! He could be right up under your nose.”

  I notice that Mrs. Rosen is not looking at me, but past me at something behind me. I spin on one heel and am face to face with Lucas. Well, face to chest is more accurate.

  “Dr. Baker, can I have a word with you?”

  I nod. “As soon as I finish up with my patient. Give me a moment.”

  “Oh go ahead honey!” Mrs. Rosen says. “You’ve already fussed at me enough. I know I have to take my blood pressure medicine.”

  “Okay, but I’ll be right back. I’m not leaving this hospital until you’re back to normal.”

  I step outside of Mrs. Rosen’s room and close the door behind me. Lucas’s expression is somber and his eyes are missing their normal sparkle. I wonder if his mood has anything to do with me.

  “What’s up, Lucas?”

  “I just wanted to…apologize again for this weekend. You were supposed to spend your birthday with your sisters and I ended up ruining your weekend.”

  “It’s no biggie. Camille had a great time by herself, and spending time with you reaffirmed some things for me.”

  “Really? Like what?” There he goes sounding hopeful again. You don’t get to do dirt and hope the victim forgets about it.

  “Nothing I’d like to share.”

  “No matter what, Sydney, you are the one that got away from me. I would’ve been crazy not to try again. The worst thing that could’ve happened is you telling me no.”

  “Actually, I could’ve said yes. Then I could’ve slept with your best friend and let you walk in on it. That would’ve been worse, right?”

  Deep sigh from Lucas. What is that? Irritation? Am I irritating him?

  Nurse Connie rushes over to us, with her hair flying and an urgent expression on her face.

  “Dr. Jeffries, Dr. Banks, we’ve got three ambulances coming in. Car accident. A mother and child, and an unidentified male. The child is stable. The mother was almost declared dead at the scene, but they found a pulse. She’s hanging on by a thread.”

  “Do they know the cause of the accident?” Lucas asks.

  “Head on collision, the unidentified male was driving the wrong way on I-20. They haven’t done a tox screen, but the male smells of alcohol according to the paramedic.”
<
br />   “Who the heck drunk drives in the middle of the freaking day?” I ask. “This disgusts me.”

  Lucas’s lips form a grim line. “You take the mother, then. I’ll take him. Connie, tell Dr. Langford we need her for a pediatric consult. Also, get social services on standby in case the mother doesn’t make it.”

  Less than a minute later the emergency room is a flurry of activity. The child comes in first. My heart leaps when I hear the little girl speaking coherently.

  “Please help my mommy, she’s bleeding. A lot! And don’t forget to call her boyfriend, because they’re getting married.”

  Nurse Connie speaks to the child, “We are going to do everything we can for your mommy! We need to get you well, too.”

  The little girl’s chatter fades into the background when her mother’s stretcher is wheeled into the ER. There’s so much blood. It’s everywhere. You never realize how much blood a person has in their body until they start bleeding out. A paramedic, covered in blood, is sitting on the stretcher, doing chest compressions, trying to keep the woman alive.

  I go into autopilot mode.

  “Lopez, I need twenty bags of O positive. Get an operating room as well. If I can keep her heart going, we’re going to have to find that bleed and stop it.”

  We wheel the stretcher into a trauma room, and the nurses start hooking the woman up to machines. Things look bleak, but I have to try. For the little girl.

  “Blood pressure is 68/40 and dropping.”

  “Crap! This is a Class IV hemorrhage! Lopez, I NEED THAT BLOOD! Now! She’s coding! Stand back, give me some room! CLEAR!”

  I shock the woman three times, and still no heart beat. With tears rolling down my face, I raise my arms to shock her again. The paddles are slippery from the blood, but I don’t care.

  “Are you going to call it?” Nurse Lopez asks.

  “CLEAR!” I ignore her. She’s a nurse. She didn’t go to medical school. Who in the hell does she think she is telling me to call time of death?

  “Sydney! Call it.”

  At the sound of Lucas’s voice, I drop my arms to my sides and sob. I can’t call it. This woman is too young. She can’t be gone. She’s can’t even be thirty yet. She’s got a little girl, and she’s in love and she’s going to be married.

  She cannot be gone.

  Lucas steps into the trauma room and takes the paddles from my hands. He pulls me into his arms and I am too broken to resist.

  “Time of death,” Lucas says, “1:23 pm.”

  I don’t even know her name.

  ~16~

  Sydney

  I sit in the cafeteria, staring at an almost wilted chicken Caesar salad, knowing that I should eat it, but unable to pick up the fork. My patient’s name was Rosa Alvarado, and she was twenty-eight years old. Younger than me. And she’s gone.

  And guess what? The drunk driver was released to the police’s custody. The murderer barely had a scratch on him. He’s probably still drunk from the amount of alcohol that was in his blood stream at the time of the accident. He was ten times over the legal limit. I’m surprised he doesn’t have alcohol poisoning.

  Rosa’s fiancé showed up at the hospital and he is completely devastated. We had to sedate him he was so distraught at the news. The love of his life is gone, gone, gone.

  “You okay, Syd?”

  Lucas sits down next to me at the table. He scoots his chair close and drapes his arm over the back of my chair. His presence is comforting, just like it was in the trauma room, so I lean into him and let him put his arm around me.

  “No, I am not. I’ve been losing a lot of patients, Lucas. It’s too much.”

  “None of us could’ve saved Rosa. You did all that you could.”

  I shake my head as the tears start up again. “I know, I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I’m just tired of people dying on me. When they live…it gives me hope. Hope that everything will be okay with me.”

  “Everything is fine with you Sydney. You have lots of people in your life that love you and you’ve got a great career.”

  How can I make Lucas understand? Every time someone like Rosa dies, it scares me; makes me feel incredibly mortal. What if I don’t find someone to love before I go on to the next life? Is this going to be it? I went to medical school, saved a few people’s lives, didn’t save some others, and then poof, I’m gone too?

  “I want more than that, Lucas.”

  He is quiet, but he’s stroking my hair which feels really, really good. Why couldn’t I just now be meeting Lucas? Why can’t this be the start of something and not the pitiful end of something?

  As the tears trickle onto my lab coat, I close my eyes and try to shut out the world. But more importantly, I attempt to silence my own fears of loneliness.

  My cell phone buzzes on the table. When I don’t move to answer it, Lucas picks it up.

  “Caller ID says it’s your sister, Dionne.”

  I frown. Not in the mood to answer it, but I know that if I don’t, she’ll just keep calling me back. Grudgingly, I take the phone from Lucas.

  “Hello.”

  “It feels like I’m dying.”

  “What’s wrong? Are you bleeding? Have you been in an accident? Call 9-1-1!”

  Dionne howls into the phone.

  “Dionne! Tell me what’s happening!”

  “My stomach! It hurts!”

  “Call 9-1-1! I’m on my way.”

  “No, I can’t call 9-1-1. They’ll tell Rod I took the fertility drugs.”

  “Oh my Lord! I’m on my way!

  I stand from the table as the adrenaline pumps through my system. For the second time today, I’m in auto-pilot mode.

  ~17~

  Dionne

  “Did my husband get here yet?”

  The nurse, who is probably sick of me by now, shakes her head for the third time. I broke down and called Rod as soon as I called the ambulance. Sydney scared me; acted like I was about to give up the ghost, so I panicked and asked him to meet me at the hospital.

  He should be here by now.

  The nurse takes my blood pressure and my temperature again. I had a one hundred four degree temperature when the paramedics got to me, but it’s down to one hundred now. My blood pressure is back down to normal too.

  “Get some rest,” the nurse says. “The doctor will be in here to talk to you in a little bit.”

  “Rest? I’m wide awake. I just need to see my husband. Do you think you can page the hospital for him? What if he can’t find me?”

  The nurse shakes her head. “No, ma’am, I cannot page him, but if he goes to any information desk, they can tell him that you are still in the emergency room.”

  “Well, what if you move me? Are you moving me?”

  Sydney tears into the small room with a crazy look on her face. “Dee! Are you okay?”

  “No, Syd. I’m not okay. I’m lying in a hospital bed with tubes up my arms.”

  Sydney crosses her arms across her body and frowns. “Okay, don’t get testy with me. I didn’t put you here. What did the doctor say?”

  “Nothing yet, he hasn’t been here, but I think I know what it is.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  I take a deep breath and say, “Probably the Follostim I’ve been taking.”

  I knew that Sydney would trip when I told her this, but she’s standing here looking like I’ve been sipping my tea with a few cubes of arsenic. I’m just trying to get pregnant. It’s not that serious for her face to be all fallen like it is right now.

  “Do you know the side effects of that drug?”

  I nod once. “Yes. The biggest one is pregnancy.”

  “You and Rod are the last people that need a baby. Where is he anyway? Does he know you’re here?”

  “Yes. He said that he’d meet me here. It’s a good thing I’m not dying.”

  “That you know of,” Sydney fusses as she reads my chart. “Your blood pressure was at stroke level, Dionne.”

&nbs
p; The doctor walks into the room before I get the opportunity to respond to Sydney’s rant.

  “I’m Doctor Hansen. How are you feeling Mrs. Knight?” the doctor asks.

  “Better than when I got here,” I say. “I’d be much better if you can have this extra doctor escorted out by security.”

  Sydney hands my chart to Dr. Hansen. “She knows I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’m kidding,” I say. “You can feel free to speak in front of her.”

  “Well, Mrs. Knight…”

  Camille bursts into our little party looking more frantic than I’ve ever seen her look.

  “Oh my goodness, Dionne! You called me sounding like you were on your death bed.”

  I lift an eyebrow at her and give her attitude. “And it took you this long to get here? I’m writing you out of my will.”

  “No you are not! Doctor, what is wrong with my knucklehead sister?”

  Doctor Hansen looks at me with a question on his face. “Do you want me to speak in front of her too?”

  “You might as well. Sydney would tell her what you said thirty seconds after you say it anyway.”

  “Okay then. I have good news and bad news, which do you want first?”

  “Um…the good news.”

  “The good news is you’re pregnant.”

  If I wasn’t having severe abdominal pain, I would jump up and hug this man. No one could’ve given me better news. Wait a minute. “The bad news?” I ask.

  “The bad news is that the fertility drug you were taking caused you to release a high amount of estrogen and other hormones that are causing you to have the cramping and bleeding.”

  “But I had a period just a couple weeks ago. How can I be pregnant?”

  Dr. Hansen replies, “That is not uncommon, especially in women with fertility problems. You’re taking a fertility drug, so the bleeding is more than likely a side effect of that.”