BONE_A Contemporary Romantic Medical Suspense Story

by Dee Palmer

  “I get you need a punching bag, Reggie, but pick your battles. I’m not going anywhere.” He stands behind me, presses his body to mine with his hands on my shoulders, preventing me from moving away. I don’t really want to move away, I like the way this feels too much, and what’s worse is, I need it. I turn in his arms and let his embrace envelop me.

  “I’m sorry.” I mumble into his scrubs, noticing he’s managed to change out of his evening wear. “Felt a little conspicuous in the dress suit hmm?”

  “I could be dressed in a big bird costume, and I wouldn’t care, Reggie. However, it’s a damned site easier to get some co-operation if I look the part of senior doctor. Prom date doesn’t really cut it in the haematology department and don’t apologise.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “I wanted a rush test done. I know it’s a long shot, but in these cases it only takes one match, isn’t that right?” He says this with all the positivity a professional can muster. I’ve said the words myself, sadly a hundred times or more, and only now do I feel how utterly hollow they can be. It’s clearly written all over my tear-streaked face. “Stop that, I know what you’re doing, and you also know you have to believe. You’re not a quitter, Regan, so don’t you fucking dare start now.”

  “My anaemia means I can’t be a marrow donor, Joel. It’s killing me, waiting like this. How do parents do this? Watch helplessly, holding onto fragments of hope, trying to find something positive when they know the truth. Even now, when I know that likelihood of finding a perfect match with AB negative blood, I cling to the notion of a miracle, when miracles don’t exist. How do people do this?”

  My shoulders shake, my knees wobble, and I grip the loose material of Joel’s top to prevent me hitting the deck with sudden weakness. I can’t do this.

  “They just do. They don’t have a choice, Reggie. And don’t give me that crap; miracles happen all the time, especially in a place like this.” He tips my chin, but the warm smile he gives me doesn’t reach the chill in my heart.

  Nevertheless, I return it because I appreciate the sentiment. I turn back to Ruby, taking her soft hand in mine and drawing in some stuttered breaths that catch and hurt my chest. My mind wanders with all the mistakes I’ve made. As if this torture isn’t enough to endure, I have to rake up a fresh hell of agony at my failings as a mother.

  “I failed her.” I repeat my internal torment, not loud but audible.

  “How the fuck did you do that? This isn’t on you, Reggie.” His fingers dig into the tops of my arms, and he shakes me a little. The sense to stop talking evades me. My darkest and most shameful moment of motherhood falls from my lips like a confession.

  “She nearly died.”

  “She’s going to get that transplant.” He states this as a matter of fact, which we both know is a matter of chance.

  “I didn’t mean that.” I twist out of his hold and slip into the hard plastic chair beside Ruby’s bed.

  Joel drops to his haunches and once more takes my hands in his. His silence is potent, his expression pained, and I take strange comfort that he’s just as lost as I am.

  “She was eight months old and still wasn’t sleeping through. I hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in what felt like forever.” I pause when my eyes flick over to her sleeping body, and I squeeze them shut at the cruel cut of irony. Please wake up, Ruby. When I open them, Joel is just staring into me, wordlessly supportive, and I find the strength in that to continue “I was back at work, and I didn’t have anyone. It was just me and a baby that wasn’t mine. I’ve never said that out loud, but at my lowest point, that’s what kept running through my sleep-deprived, stupid head.” I snap my mouth shut, horrified that I gave the words enough oxygen to be heard, I thought it back then, and saying it now, I know I’m a monster.

  “I understand.” Joel sweeps the palm of his hand softly down my cheek, scooping up a little of the river of tears falling from my eyes.

  “I’m a monster, Joel.”

  “I think that’s a little harsh, Reggie. I think you’ll find you were a new single mom, and that makes you a sleep-addled saint, in my opinion. Why were you on your own, though?”

  “Harper was studying overseas, and Cameron was travelling. I didn’t have the network I do now. I was so alone. I knew I wasn’t coping, and I was too fucking stubborn or proud to ask for help.” I screw my cuffs up into my fists and scrunch them into my eyes, absorbing the liquid but also pressing hard to ease the building pressure. I started this tale, and as hard as this is, I feel I need to finish it. I suck in a long, slow, steady breath and exhale with the rest of the sorry story.

  “She just wouldn’t sleep. One night I just couldn’t do it anymore. I screamed right back at her. I shook her crib so hard, it rattled and screws fell out. I howled at her to shut the fuck up. I told her I hated her…hated her.”

  Joel breaks eye contact for the first time, and I don’t blame him, like I said, monster. My vision is so distorted with tears, when he looks up, I can no longer read his expression. Regardless, I carry on.

  “The rage and desperation coloured everything, and I just exploded. I raised my hand. I actually raised my hand to hit my baby. I couldn’t make her stop crying.” His hand tightens around mine, and I can feel the change like a physical drop in temperature between us.

  “I caught myself. I don’t know how.” He lets out a puff of heavy air, but I don’t share his relief. “I ran from her room and slammed the door. I remember falling to my knees, weak and devastated. I just sobbed. I could hear her desolate cries, her struggles to breathe, and I couldn’t go back inside. I didn’t trust myself. I knew that, as scared as she must have felt, she was still safer in her broken crib than in my arms. Now tell me I’m not a monster!”

  “That’s why you defended that woman the other day.” Joel replies, and the colour seems to have drained from his face.

  “Glass houses and casting stones don’t really help anyone.”

  “What happened?” He releases my hands and steps to the side of the bed. I do the same, my hands gripping the steel bar with anxious, white-knuckle strength.

  “She eventually fell asleep, and I did too, on the floor outside her room. I didn’t sleep for long, an hour tops, but when I woke, I was so fucking ashamed, I got help. I joined a single mom support group, playgroups, and sitting circles. It’s where I met Shannon and Ophelia. Harper came back and loves Ruby like her own. The point is, I now have people I trust to help me if I need it, and I’m not too proud to ask for help. Maybe giving birth gives you this perspective straight out of the gate, but it took me that night to realise, and I made Ruby a promise. I chose to keep her; she’s mine, and her needs trump mine. It’s that simple.”

  I stroke the dark curl of hair that always falls in the centre of her face away and back up over the back of her head, only to have it spring straight back. I rise to my toes and lean over to kiss the impossibly soft skin on her pale cheek. My tears fall and dampen her skin until it glistens. Gently wiping it dry with my thumb, I turn to face Joel. ”It takes a village to raise a child.”

  “So they say.”

  “I’ve never told anyone that story.” I feel a wave of uncertainty hit me, and just as it’s about to drag me under, he snatches me into his arms and hugs the life into me. His head rests on mine until he pulls back enough to tenderly kiss my forehead.

  “Whether you like it or not, Reggie, you trust me.”

  “So they say.”

  I stretch my neck to the left and right and feel the ache in every muscle. It’s been two days and I’ve not left Ruby except for the necessary toilet breaks. I grab a coffee on the way back from my mid-morning call of nature to find Joel staring at Ruby from the end of her bed, a loose piece of paper in his hand.

  “Any change?” I sidle up and soak in some of the comfort his nearness affords. He’s left me only for a few hours to go home, shower, change, and return with an overnight bag for me and him. Harper and Cameron have been camped in t
he relatives’ lounge the entire time, and I have had so many unanswered messages on my phone’ I’ve had to give it to Harper to field the concern. I don’t want to ignore the kindness, but I just can’t focus on anything except Ruby. I’m a barely functioning zombie, and I won’t wake up until she does.

  “You tell me.” He turns and steps away from me. Coolness and confusion clouds his eyes’ and his jaw is tense.

  “Joel? Are you all right?”

  “If I said I wasn’t, it would be a massive understatement.”

  “What’s wrong?” I rush to Ruby’s side. I don’t get the chance to check her IVs and take in the most recent information on the machines beside her bed. Joel grabs my elbow and steers me into the corridor.

  “Walk with me.” His grip is firm, and I have to run to keep up with his scarily determined strides.

  “Joel, you’re scaring me. Is Ruby all right?” I pull and struggle to free myself. He crashes us through the fire doors to the stairwell. The cold stale air halts my footing. His statement, however, floors me.

  “Ruby’s mine.” He levels an accusatory glower that makes me reel for a moment until what he’s said actually sinks in.

  “What the fuck? What do you mean: She’s yours? She’s not yours.” I almost laugh at the preposterous claim, only I’m too angry, and this isn’t remotely funny.

  “But that’s where you’re wrong.” He calmly holds up the loose paper that I recognise. The results are filled in and it takes a whole moment to sink in what he’s done.

  “What? How? I don’t understand? You did a paternity test on my daughter? What the actual fuck!” My mind is racing with a million questions.

  “I requested a donor test, and I’m a match, not just a match, I’m her perfect fucking match, Regan. Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on? Did you know?”

  “Did I know what? That you fucked my sister? No I didn’t fucking know—”

  “Did you know I was her father?” His tone, stern and still, has an accusatory edge that would have my hackles rising if they weren’t already on end and stretched taut.

  “Does this look like the face of someone who knew her boyfriend fucked her sister?” I yell.

  “I never fucked your sister,” he claims with absolute seriousness. I laugh out, then check myself, again, this is not so funny.

  “And you realise how ridiculous that sounds right? Oh, wait, maybe it was an immaculate conception. After all, you did always fancy yourself as God.” I scoff. “I can’t believe this… Wait!” I rush at him, fisting handfuls of his sweater and roughly pulling him to me, a surge of utter joy exploding like fireworks in my veins. “Oh, my god! So you can give Ruby the marrow?”

  “No.” His response is brutally brief and shocking. My hands fly off of him like they have been burnt by the flames of hell.

  “No? What do you mean, no? You said you were a perfect match.” I shake my head, desperation cracking at my voice and wobbling the words as they leave my mouth.

  “I am, but I also don’t qualify.” He closes his eyes, hurt and disappointment evident in the slump of his shoulders and sadness in his tone. I can see the tortured pain is real, yet I’m filled with fresh fury that rips from me and attacks him.

  “Oh, yes, that’s right, you wouldn’t qualify because of your deviant and depraved sexual history.” I recall my knowledge of transfusion exemptions and spew my accusation with vitriol that leaves a bad taste. I regret the instant I hear them in my ears.

  “If you call fucking you deviant, then yes.” He retaliates and I’m struck dumb as he recites one of the biggest no-no’s on the list of ineligible criteria for donor candidates. “Unprotected sex with a person with a hepatitis in their history does disqualify me.”

  “No! No, no, no, no!” I start shaking my head as soon as he starts to speak. I know this list by heart, and he’s right. I crumple to my knees, my hands tearing through my hair and gripping large chunks in despair. I can’t believe this. I look up to a god that can’t possibly exist. I’m utterly broken. Sobs wrack my body, and heartbroken cries echo off the walls, deafening us both. Endless agonising minutes pass, and I’m vaguely aware that Joel has crouched beside me, his heavy arm rests across my shoulders. My head drops to my knees, and I voice my very worst nightmare to the eerie silence that has settled between us. “My daughter might not live because of me.”

  “I’m sorry, Reggie.” His softly genuine voice is like a high voltage shock from the national grid, and I leap to my feet. Turning, I face him as an ungodly storm of hurt, betrayal, and unbelievable rage vies for dominance inside me.

  “Don’t you fucking Reggie me,” I grit out through clenched teeth.

  “She’s my daughter too.” He reaches for me, and I step back. My finger points for him to stay where he is. He heeds the warning and even steps back for good measure. A wise move.

  “No! No she isn’t yours. Fucking my sister does not make you a father. It just makes you a complete fucking asshole.”

  “I will say it again: I never fucked your sister,” he states, and, as ridiculous as it sounds, I actually believe he believes that. It doesn’t matter; nothing matters now.

  “Don’t come near me.” I curse the tears glazing my vision and scream when he touches me. His hand curls briefly on my arm, and I yank it from his hold and fire everything I have left at him.

  “You don’t get to touch me, ever! Stay away from me, and stay away from Ruby.”

  “You’re hurt; I get that, but don’t do this, Regan. Trust me, you don’t want to do this.”

  “It’s done.” I couldn’t feel anymore numb. My cold response sends a chill the length of my spine. I reach for the door and push through without a backward glance.

  It’s done.

  “Hey, honey, how you doing?” Harper enters the room and walks up to where I’m just staring at my baby like a crazy person. I’ve been rooted to this spot for hours in a daze since Joel dropped his bombshell. My head is a mess, and my heart is beyond shattered.

  It’s a stupid question that warrants the equally perverse reply.

  “I’m fine.” I lean into her sideways hug and enjoy the fleeting comfort for what it is, fleeting.

  “Yeah, okay. How’s our little one doing then?” Harper forces a brave smile that people do in these situations.

  “Sleeping, fighting, and generally being a stubborn little madam, and refusing to wake up.” My breezy response takes a herculean effort when all I want to do is shut down. I pray to take Ruby’s place, and I’d give anything to just swap positions. It’s all-consuming, debilitating, and counter-productive. And the ridiculous thing is, I know better. This isn’t helping.

  “Yep, that sounds like Rubes.” Harper squeezes me and then moves around me to give Ruby a kiss.

  “They think they have found a couple of near matches.” I explain as I absently rearrange Ruby’s cover for the umpteenth time.

  “Oh, wow, that’s good, right?”

  “It needs to be better than a near match I don’t think she would survive with anything less.” I hate that I know this. I hate that I know exactly how sick my little girl is when every other parent in this situation would be cushioned to some extent with blissful ignorance, at least for a little while. I have no respite.

  “You know that for sure?”

  “No, nothing’s certain.” I say the right thing, because anything else is unacceptable. Fat tears spring from my red raw eyes, and I don’t even bother to wipe them dry.

  “Hey, hey, she’s a fighter, right, like her momma.” Harper looks fondly from Ruby to me.

  “Raleigh wasn’t that kind of fighter, Harper.” I sniff back the tears.

  “Since when did you start referring to Raleigh as Ruby’s mom?” Harper’s hands rest on her hips, and sassy indignation clips her tone.

  “Since I found out Joel is her birth father.” My flat response floors her. She gapes, and her neck seems to elongate a good few inches.

  “What the fuck? Joel fucked your siste
r behind your back?” Her crystal clear voice cuts above the background noise, and I’m thankful Ruby has been moved to a private room on the ward.

  “Actually I don’t think he did. I mean he obviously did, I just don’t think he knew.” I glance over my shoulder to check if her announcement garnered any attention our way, but bodies outside of the glass wall and closed door remain busy and focused.

  “The ‘just happened to slip and fall into her vagina’ defence doesn’t really cut it with me, Regan. I just don’t buy it; he’s not that stupid to make a mistake like that. He knew. Fuck, he’s a lying sack of shit, I’m going to tear—”

  I interrupt her tirade as her volume escalates. “Remember when you went to that graduation party with Raleigh instead of me?”

  “That’s different.” She reels back, frowning as my question stops her in her tracks.

  “How? You didn’t know it wasn’t me until I turned up late and wondered why the hell my best friend went to the party without me.”

  “She was wearing your clothes. She tricked me.” She crosses her arms, affronted all over again at being duped.

  “You think she didn’t trick him?”

  “She would’ve had to be naked. You’d think he would be able to tell the difference.” Derision slides from the accusatory curl in her lip.

  “Identical twins, Harper, identical.” The emphasis is unnecessary, it may not clarify the situation, but it does make it at least a possibility.

  “Fuck.” Harper exhales, shaking her head with the enormity of what I’ve been processing for the last few hours.

  “Yeah, at least it solves one mystery.”

  “What mystery?”

  “What she hoped I would never find out, and why in her letter she was so very sorry.”

  “Too fucking late for that.”

  “Too late for a lot of things.” I shrug. I may have shared her bitter inclination over this at one time, but on the scale of things, now it barely registers. Ruby is the only thing that matters.