The Culmination (The Club Series Book 4)

by Lauren Rowe

  “What?”

  “Those babies have to come out right now. She’s being wheeled into the operating room for an emergency C-section. The lives of your wife and babies are at serious risk and we have to deliver the babies right now.”

  “But...” I shake my head in confusion. “Now?”

  “We’re very concerned about the amount of blood your wife has lost—there’s no other option.”

  A sob lurches out of my throat. “Tell them to save my wife.”

  “The doctors are doing everything they can. We’ll update you as soon as the situation has stabilized.” The woman in scrubs motions down the hall. “There’s a sitting area down there on the left. We’ll come give you an update as soon as we know anything.”

  I’m frantic. “But I have to be with her. She’s my wife. I’m supposed to protect her.”

  “They’re putting her under general anesthesia now. You can’t be in the operating room.”

  A shiver runs down my spine. A crystal-clear premonition is suddenly slamming into me: Sarah’s never going to wake up. Oh my God, I’ll never see Sarah alive again. Did I tell her I love her tonight? I can’t remember if I said those exact words to her. I don’t think I did.

  Sarah.

  My heart wrenches inside my chest.

  “The doctor will come out to give you an update as soon as we know more. I know this is really hard to process right now, Mr. Faraday. You just have to—please. Just please go sit down and we’ll give you an update as soon possible.”

  Another sob threatens, but I stuff it down. “We had an appointment with the doctor this morning,” I say lamely. “At eight. Because I was worried.”

  The woman in scrubs motions to a nearby nurse. “Shannon? Can you show Mr. Faraday to the sitting area? I think he needs someone to show him there.”

  A nurse comes over and puts her hand on my forearm.

  I look down at her hand. It’s slender. It looks tiny against my arm. This woman is half my size, if that. I could literally toss her down the hallway and burst through the swinging doors and find my Sarah and hold her warm hand one last time. I could tell her I love her—and maybe she’d still hear it. Maybe it’s not too late for her to hear it one last time. Oh my God. She’s my wife and I vowed to love her forever, ’til death do us part. And beyond. And now that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  “Come on, Mr. Faraday. I’ll sit with you for a while,” the nurse says. She pulls on my arm and I let her lead me away from the swinging doors. “Do you have someone you can call?”

  My legs are rubber underneath me—I’m gliding on someone else’s legs. Maybe I’m having a nightmare? Yes, God, please. I must be having a nightmare. This isn’t really happening. It’s a vivid nightmare, that’s all it is. Any minute now, I’m going to wake up next to Sarah in a warm, dry bed. I’ll pull her close and inhale her scent and she’ll run her hands through my hair and listen to me talk about a fucking puppy.

  A sob escapes my throat and the nurse tightens her grip on my arm.

  When the doctor comes out to tell me Sarah’s dead, I know exactly what I’ll do. I’ll bolt out the front doors of the hospital and run onto the nearby freeway and hurl myself into oncoming traffic. Maybe I’ll get lucky and a big rig will be driving along at just the right moment. Or maybe I’ll hurl myself off the nearest bridge. Where’s the nearest fucking bridge? Oh, shit. It’s the same one I drove off to kick off The Lunacy. Fuck me. That won’t work. Fuck. It doesn’t matter how I do it, just as long as I do it. Death may be the greatest blessing that can happen to a man. Isn’t that what Plato said? I think that’s what he said. And he was right.

  The nurse pulls me to a chair and I sit. I’m shaking violently. My teeth are chattering. I didn’t tell Sarah I love her. I’m sure of it. Fuck. I put socks on her feet and babbled about a fucking puppy, but I didn’t say, “I love you.”

  I put my hands over my face and bend over in my chair. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. And now she’s all alone in there. And she doesn’t know how I feel.

  “Do you need some water?” the nurse asks me. She puts her hand on my back and rubs up and down. I can’t stop shaking. My teeth are making an impossibly loud noise as they clatter together.

  As long as it’s quick and effective, that’s all that matters. I’ll wait ’til a bus is coming and then I’ll just step off the curb at the last second. Simple.

  “Is there someone you can call?” the nurse says. “A family member?”

  I nod and pull out my phone. I push the button that says “Josh.”

  “Jonas?” He sounds like I woke him up.

  I don’t say anything. My teeth are vibrating into the phone.

  “Jonas? What’s wrong?”

  I make a garbled sound.

  “Jonas? What happened?”

  “They won’t let me be with her, Josh. I have to sit out here and wait.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Blood on the sheets, Josh.” My voice cracks. “Again.”

  “Blood? What? You mean Sarah?” His voice spikes with sudden panic. He takes an audible breath. “Jonas, are you at the hospital?”

  “Blood on her socks.” I sob something incoherent. “All over her socks. She had cold feet.”

  “Which hospital, Jonas?”

  I cover my face. I can’t control my sobs. They rise up and gush out of me like a geyser.

  The nurse takes the phone from my hand and talks quietly to Josh for several minutes. I cover my face with my hands. Blood on the sheets. Blood on the tiles. Blood on the carpet. Blood on the sheets. Blood on her socks. Blood on the sheets. Blood on the sheets. Blood on the sheets. I’ll never escape it. I tried, but I was foolish. It’s my destiny.

  I feel the phone being pressed against my ear again. I bring my hand up and hold the phone tightly against my head.

  “I’m coming right now, Jonas, okay?” Josh says into my ear.

  I groan.

  “Do you hear me?” Josh asks. “I’m coming.”

  I don’t reply.

  “Jonas?”

  “I hear you.”

  “I’m coming. Sit tight.”

  “I don’t know if I told her I love her, Josh—I don’t think I did. And now she’s all alone in there.”

  “Pull out your music right now, Jonas. Do you hear me? Listen to music ’til I get there. Do it right now.”

  “Her socks were soaked in blood, Josh. Dripping in blood.”

  “Don’t do a goddamned thing except listen to music—do you understand me? Not a goddamned thing. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t think anything. Just pull out your music and listen.”

  I mumble my reply.

  “Don’t think worst-case scenario, Jonas. Don’t imagine flinging yourself off a fucking bridge.” His voice breaks. “Don’t give in. Don’t walk outside. Just listen to music and close your eyes and do your visualizations and don’t think about a goddamned thing but the music. Sarah’s gonna be okay. And so are your babies.” He almost loses it. “She’s Sarah Fucking Cruz, Jonas. She’s Sarah Fucking Cruz.” His voice breaks with sudden emotion. There’s a long pause. I hear him take a deep breath. “You need to be strong for Sarah. You understand me, Jonas? You’re a husband and father now. That means you don’t get to fall apart. Sarah and your babies are counting on you.”

  I feel like he just slapped me across the face with a two-by-four. I try to answer, but I’m not sure if I’ve succeeded.

  “It’s time to be a beast for Sarah and your babies. Do you hear me? You’re not allowed to fall apart. So don’t do it.”

  “Okay.”

  “You got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Listen to your music. Right now.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do it now. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Okay. Come soon, Josh. I need you.”

  “I’m coming now.”

  I mumble something and hang up the phone.

  “Is he coming?�
� the nurse asks.

  I forgot the nurse was sitting here. I take a deep breath and collect myself. “Yeah. My brother. Josh. He always comes when there’s blood. Every time.”

  The nurse pauses, looking slightly confused for a moment. “Are you going to be okay sitting here by yourself ’til your brother gets here?” she asks. “Or do you want me to sit with you?”

  I hold up my phone. “I’m not allowed to fall apart anymore. I’m gonna listen to music. I’m a beast.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right over there behind the counter if you need me. The charge nurse will come out to give you an update as soon as possible.” She puts her hand on mine. “Mr. Faraday, I know they’re doing everything possible for your wife and babies.”

  My wife and babies. My chest tightens. They’re doing everything they can for my wife and babies. Because I’m a husband and father now. Well, I was. For a brief, shining moment I was a husband and a father. But not anymore. Now I’m alone.

  Again.

  All alone.

  I stifle a sob.

  She pats my hand again and gets up.

  I scroll through the music library on my phone, but I can’t settle on anything. What song could possibly say what needs to be said at a moment like this? Is there a song called, “I don’t want to wake up if she’s not next to me?” Where’s the fucking song that says that?

  “Faraday, party of four,” Sarah said—and I let her say it—I even smiled when she said it—and then I joined her in painting the fantasy. “I’ll strap one baby to my back and one to my chest,” I said, knowing full well it would never happen. Why the fuck did I say it? And why the fuck did I ask Sarah the names of the babies? It would have been so much easier if I’d never known my dead babies’ fucking names.

  I continue scrolling through the songs without stopping. There’s no song on earth that’s going to say what needs to be said. Is there a song that says, “I don’t know how to suck air into my lungs if you’re not by my side?” Where the fuck is that fucking song? “I’ll take you away once a week so I can fuck you without waking up the kids,” I said to her, utterly deluding myself.

  Song titles are whizzing past my eyes. My vision is blurring. There’s no song to say what I want to say.

  “When the babies are two or three, we’ll get a puppy,” I said to her, even though I knew deep in my soul my babies would never get to be two or three. “A live-in housekeeper’s non-negotiable,” I said, as if any fucking thing in this lifetime is non-negotiable. As if my babies would ever survive long enough to spill crackers all over the fucking floor. As if keeping my surroundings ‘pristine’ at all times ever fucking mattered.

  I suddenly stop scrolling through my song list. I’m staring at the perfect song—the song that says precisely what needs to be said. “I’ll Follow You into the Dark” by Death Cab for Cutie.

  My fingers are shaking as I press play and bring the phone up to my ear.

  The instant the singer begins, I close my eyes and lean back in my chair.

  This song says what I feel. This song says it for me with every word and note and strum of the acoustic guitar. This song is The Truth.

  Because, God help me, when Sarah goes into the Dark like I know she’s about to do—if she hasn’t already—when she leaps into the abyss without me and never comes back to me, the same way everyone always does—because everything I touch turns to blood—when Sarah goes into the dark, then I’m gonna fucking follow her there. No matter what. End of fucking story.

  Chapter 11

  Jonas

  “Mr. Faraday?”

  I stand and so does Josh. This is it. They’re going to tell me Sarah’s dead. My knees feel weak. I hold onto Josh’s shoulder and he grabs my arm.

  “Your babies have been delivered—they’re being rushed to the NICU.”

  “Are they okay?” Josh asks. He squeezes my arm.

  I can’t breathe.

  “They’re alive and headed to the NICU. That’s all I know. With this much blood loss by the mother, they’re likely anemic and in shock—and their lungs will probably need some form of assistance. Doctors in the NICU will assess them and administer whatever care is required—and once they’re stabilized, the NICU doctors will tell you more about their condition.”

  A thousand emotions are slamming into me at once. I can’t speak.

  “And Sarah?” Josh asks, saying the exact question I’d ask if I could. Josh squeezes my arm again, this time so tightly, he’s gonna leave a bruise.

  My heart is banging wildly inside my chest. I close my eyes, anticipating whatever’s about to come out of the nurse’s mouth. My legs feel rubbery. My head is swirling.

  “She’s still in surgery,” the nurse says. “There’s no way to know yet.”

  “But she’s still...?” Josh begins.

  “Yes. She’s in surgery.”

  I open my eyes and exhale.

  “The doctors are working hard to stop the bleeding—the blood loss has to be contained. The situation is very dangerous—very serious—but the doctors are doing everything they can.”

  Josh puts his arm around my shoulders. “She’s gonna be fine,” he mutters.

  “Mr. Faraday, your wife had a placental abruption. And now she’s developed a condition called DIC. This means she’s bled so much, she’s lost the ability to clot her own blood. This is fairly common with abruptions and it’s a very serious situation. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

  “But she’s gonna be okay,” Josh declares. It’s a statement, not a question.

  “We’ll keep you apprised as the situation develops.”

  “But at the end of the day, she’ll be fine, right?” Josh coaches, his voice strained.

  I sit down in the chair behind me and put my hands over my face.

  “They’re doing everything they can,” the nurse repeats, unwilling to follow Josh’s lead. “As soon as the doctors have things stabilized, one of them will come out to give you a full update.”

  Josh sits next to me and puts his arm around me. I lean into him, my hands over my face. “She’s gonna be fine,” he mutters, squeezing my shoulder.

  “Your wife will be in surgery for several more hours,” the nurse says. “Would you like me to take you to the NICU so you can meet your babies? I’ve received the go-ahead from the NICU for you to come on down.”

  “Yeah,” Josh says, leaping up from his chair. “Of course.”

  I drop my hands away from my face and look up at the nurse. She’s looking at me with genuine sympathy. I look at Josh blankly. I don’t know if I can move. I don’t know if I can function enough to do anything but sit here. I need to stay here, just in case Sarah needs me.

  “Come on, Jonas,” Josh says. “You’re a father. Meet your babies.”

  I know what I’m supposed to say right now. I know what the right answer is—the normal answer. But the truth is I don’t care about anything or anyone except Sarah right now, even my babies.

  Josh’s phone buzzes in his pocket. “Hang on.” He pulls out his phone and looks at the screen. “Kat’s mom arrived at the house to watch Gracie. Kat’s on her way here with Sarah’s mom.”

  I don’t reply. I don’t give a shit about anyone or anything except Sarah.

  Josh pulls on my arm. “Come on, Jonas. Let’s go see your babies.”

  “Has anyone told you the genders yet?” the nurse asks.

  “No,” Josh answers.

  The nurse smiles at me, but her eyes are heavy with sympathy. “Girls,” she says. “You have two baby girls, Mr. Faraday. Just about four pounds each.”

  Chapter 12

  Jonas

  My babies—my daughters—are each nestled inside Plexiglas incubators, their small bodies attached to monitors. Ventilators protrude from their mouths.

  “I didn’t know a human could be this small,” Josh says.

  I can’t process what I’m seeing right now.

  “I think Gracie was, like, eight pounds?” Josh says. �
��Gracie looked like Godzilla compared to these two.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. My brain can’t compute the meaning of the little pink creatures in front of me.

  “Gracie would have gobbled one of your babies for a mid-afternoon snack,” Josh continues.

  I’m too mesmerized by their little fingers and toes to respond.

  “Grassy eat baby!” Josh says, mimicking Gracie’s voice. “Man, they don’t even look real,” Josh continues. “They look like little animatronic puppets.”

  He’s right. They do.

  “Excuse me,” Josh says to the nearby NICU nurse. “Where’s the guy who’s working the remote control on these puppets?”

  “He’s behind that curtain over there,” the nurse says, motioning. She beams a smile at him, the way all women do.

  “Yep. I knew it,” Josh says. “Well, tell him he’s doing a bang-up job—these puppets seem really lifelike.”

  The nurse laughs.

  Baby A in front of me is thrashing wildly, her tiny limbs outstretched and strained, while Baby B in the incubator closest to Josh is serene and quiet. Both girls are wearing little pink caps and diapers that look three sizes too big for their tiny torsos.

  I reach my index finger down to Baby A, and her hand rests against it, barely covering the tip of my finger. At the touch of her soft skin against mine, a fierce protectiveness rises up inside me. “Hi, Luna,” I say softly. She jerks her arms and legs wildly in reply. “Are you the Crazy Monkey who’s been doing Zumba on your mommy’s nerves?”

  “Luna?” Josh asks.

  I nod.

  Josh bites his lip. “Yeah, she’s definitely Crazy Monkey,” he says. “Just look at her—she’s you.”

  I can’t help but smile.

  “And who’s this?” Josh asks, motioning to the serene baby in the incubator in front of him.

  “Marisol,” I say—and right on cue, she throws up her little arm as if to say, “Here!” I can’t help but smile. “But Sarah says we’ll call her Sol—because she says our daughters will be our entire world—our sun and moon.” Tears well up in my eyes. I take a deep breath and force them back down.