Where could he be? As my nausea subsides, my worry about Aiden increases. I’m not one to worry unnecessarily. At least, I try to keep my worries at bay. But this time, I have a bad feeling about everything. It came over me about twenty minutes after Aiden left and hasn’t disappeared since.
I call his phone for what feels like the tenth time since he left. This time I don’t ask him to call me back.
“Listen, if you needed to go to work or something, that’s fine. I’m totally okay with it. Just please call or text and let me know. For some reason, I got really worried. I don’t know, maybe it’s all the pregnancy hormones. Just let me know what’s going on.”
I pace around my room. When I hear Brie out in the kitchen, I meet her there.
“So…you and Aiden?” Brie gives me a wink over her buttered toast. “How’s that working out?”
I shrug and smile.
“Pretty good from what I heard last night.”
I blush. I didn’t realize that we were loud enough to hear. Brie must sense my embarrassment.
“Hey, it’s no big deal,” she says, waving her hand.
Brie and I are close, but not close the way sisters are often portrayed in sappy movies. For some reason, we were never the type to lay around at night gushing about what this or that guy said to us. Or gal, for that matter. I sort of suspect that Brie may be a lesbian, but because we’re not that close, I don’t feel comfortable bringing it up.
“We were sort of celebrating something,” I say after a moment.
“What?”
“Aiden asked me to marry him.”
“Okay…” she says slowly. “I thought that he had already asked you that?”
Oh, that’s right. She knows about the previous failed engagement. Not everything, but enough.
“Well, he asked again,” I say.
“Does he know about the baby?”
“Of course, he does. I told him about it and…he was actually much more excited about it than I thought he would be.”
“Oh, that’s great, Ellie.”
“I think so,” I say and go into the long-winded account of what happened. How I told him. What he said. What I said. How he asked me to marry him. She listens carefully and then throws her arms around me.
“I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m genuinely surprised. I mean, I really didn’t expect to be a basket-case about this whole thing. What do you think? I feel like such an idiot.”
“An idiot? Why?”
“I don’t know. Just feel sort of stupid. I mean, I should be more excited about having a baby.”
“You’re just young. And you’re thinking of the way that it’s going to affect your life in a negative way. But maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you should think about all the good that will come out of it. All the fun.”
“That’s the problem,” I say. “I don’t really have any experience with kids. I mean, I don’t know any babies. Aiden doesn’t have much family and we never had any babies around. It’s just a weird thing to imagine having a baby when you have no personal experience with one.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
Brie is also not exactly the mothering type. But then again, maybe that’s not a requirement. Actually, I know for sure that it’s not a requirement to be a mother. But are those skills something you should acquire in order to actually become a good mother? Probably. And will they come naturally? Or is there some sort of class I should take?
I graduated from Yale and there wasn’t one course in the catalog about anything like this. Perhaps, that’s the tragedy since most of the kids I went to school with grew up in terrible homes. Not terrible as in abusive, but terrible in that they felt neglected and ignored. It’s amazing how many well-off people provide for their kids and offer them a semblance of care, but aren’t really there for them in the way that their kids want them to be.
Or is this just a function of growing up? Do all children, to some degree, feel disappointed by their parents? Perhaps, that’s what it means to become an adult. You become one when you realize that your parents aren’t perfect; you accept the fact that they have disappointed you in some way, however minuscule and insignificant on the surface, and you forgive them anyway.
“Ellie, I have to tell you something,” Brie says. She has a serious look on her face. So, serious in fact, that I think that something might actually be wrong.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a very long time. But I just didn’t know how to come right out and say it.”
“Okay,” I say. “You can tell me anything.”
“I’ve been thinking that I don’t think I want to be identified as a ‘she’ anymore. I mean, I’m not entirely sure if I want to be called a ‘she’.”
I nod. I don’t really know what she’s talking about. I guess she gets that from the expression on my face so she explains.
“I don’t know if I want to transition to being a man, but I’m thinking that maybe I do. So…for now…I just want to be a called ‘they.’”
“‘They?’ Instead of ‘she’?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“But not ‘he’?”
“No, not yet. I have been thinking about this for a bit. I definitely don’t want the ‘it’ pronoun, but also don’t want to be called ‘he.’ Not yet. But I don’t exactly feel like a ‘she’ either.”
I nod. I don’t really understand, but I’m here for her. She’s my sister after all.
“Have you told mom yet?” I ask. Out of the two of them, I think she’s the one who will most likely have an issue with this whole thing. She’s not one to adapt to change easily.
“No,” Brie says. “I wanted to run it by my big sister first.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. Flattered actually. But you know that telling me isn’t exactly the same thing as telling Mom, right? There’s no rehearsal for that.”
“Yes, I know.” Brie hangs her head.
“Maybe tell Mitch.”
“No, he’ll just go and tell her and then I won’t be able to control how it comes out. He’s not one for paying attention to details, you know that, right?”
“Unfortunately, I do,” I say with a smile.
“So…what about you? What do you think?”
“I don’t really know. I mean, I don’t really know anything about this, Brie. But to tell you the truth, I’ll call you whatever you want to be called. If you don’t feel like the pronoun ‘she’ applies to you anymore, then who am I to say otherwise?”
Tears start to well up in Brie’s eyes. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen her cry. It was probably when our dog, Charlie, died.
“Brie, don’t cry. Please. I’m here for you.”
“Why do you think I’m crying, Ellie? Because you’re here for me.”
Tears run down my cheeks as we hold each other tightly. I haven’t felt this close to her in…I can’t remember how long. Actually, I’m kind of surprised that she came to me with this.
“You know, for a second there, I thought you were going to come out of the closet to me,” I say. “Are you…are you into women?”
“I am,” Brie says. “But I’m also into men. I’m not sure I’m ready to make a statement definitively one way or another yet.”
“I get that.”
“What about you? Have you ever been with a girl?” Brie asks.
“I kissed a girl once. In college. At a party. We were both very drunk and people were cheering us on,” I say. “Agh, I’m so embarrassed.”
Looking back, I’m actually embarrassed by the fact that I did it because of the audience, not because I kissed a girl.
“What about you? Have you ever been with a girl?” I ask.
“Yep. Dated one actually. She just broke up with me.”
“Oh, no. How long were you together?”
“A few months. Not long. But we spent every minute together practically, so it feels much more significant.”
I nod. “Well, I’m really
sorry about the break up. Those are always hell.”
Brie and I sit on the couch and gossip the way that sisters do, the way that we have never gossiped in our lives. It’s an amazing feeling. Fun and fulfilling. We talk and talk and never run out of topics. She opens and finishes a bottle of Pinot Grigio while I stick to Coke.
And then, my phone rings. It’s Aiden.
“Hey, where are you?” I ask.
“Hi, Ellie,” an unfamiliar voice on the other line says. “My name is Officer Paulson. I have to tell you something.”
Chapter 11 - Ellie
When I rush to see him…
The world starts to spin at an unusually fast pace as I rush to the hospital and to Aiden. All of the flashing lights outside give me a pounding headache. There’s a loud buzzing sound that pierces through my skull and doesn’t go away until I arrive on 10th Street. We enter through the emergency room entrance and the bright lights and the sterility of the place makes me sick to my stomach. Literally. I rush to the nearest trashcan and throw up.
Somewhere behind me, I hear the woman at the front desk ask Brie if I’m going to be okay. Even though I don’t physically laugh, I find this question remarkably funny. Am I alright? I’m in the emergency room waiting to be seen by a doctor. I’m in the emergency room throwing up in the nearest trashcan, unable or unwilling to even have the courtesy to go into the bathroom. No, lady, clearly, I am NOT alright.
Brie finds out the number and location of Aiden’s room and we head there. Only problem is that he’s not in the room. No, he’s still in surgery and we have to wait in the smaller waiting room in the east wing until he is wheeled into his room.
“He’s going to be okay, right? Right?” I keep asking Brie as I pace around the waiting room.
“Yes, of course, he is. Of course,” Brie lies through her teeth. She has no way of knowing if he will actually be all right, but I appreciate the gesture. I need something to believe in right about now.
Twenty minutes pass and it feels like it has been an hour. Another ten pass and it feels like it has been three hours.
“I need to do something,” I say. “I need to get out of here.”
“What? Where are you going to go?”
“I don’t know. Where’s the nearest vending machine?” I ask. “Or the farthest one? I could use a stroll.”
Just then a police officer approaches us. He’s dressed in his navy blues and looks very official. Almost like a cop from TV. He introduces himself as Officer Paulson.
“What happened here?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
“Did no one tell you?”
I shake my head no.
“Please tell me. I’m Aiden’s fiancée.”
Officer Paulson looks down at his notebook, trying to avoid my gaze. This must not be his favorite part of the job.
“Mr. Black…Aiden…has been shot,” Officer Paulson says, choosing his words very carefully.
“Shot!? Why? By whom?”
Now this is definitely not something that I ever expected in a million years.
“Like mugged?” Brie asks. Yes, of course. A mugging is definitely a possibility. This is New York after all, a place almost as famous for its muggings as it is for its pizza.
“No, we don’t think so,” he says.
“What then?”
“Can you tell me what happened? Where he was going?” Officer Paulson asks.
I stare at him. I don’t know what he means or why he’s asking me these questions.
“He was visiting me beforehand,” I say. “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”
“Oh, okay.” By the expression on his face, I can tell that this is news to him.
“Didn’t Aiden tell you?”
Officer Paulson ignores this question. “So, you said that he was with you at your apartment? Where was he going, ma’am?”
“I was sick, throwing up. I wanted a bagel. I thought that it would make me feel better. So, he went to the bagel shop at the corner. Is that where this happened?”
Officer Paulson writes something in his little notepad and then looks up at me.
“I have to tell you something, ma’am.”
I hate how he calls me ma’am. There’s a cold, detached quality to it. It’s like he’s referring to someone he doesn’t really want to go talk to. Even though I want to shake him to knock the words right out of him, I take a step forward and wait patiently for whatever he’s about to say.
Why isn’t he saying anything? Wait a second. He has been shot. But not seriously, right? The thought of him being actually injured, like seriously injured, didn’t actually occur to me until this very moment. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to real people. It just happens to people on television, right?
“Aiden has been shot, but he’s all right. He’s in a coma.”
My mind starts to buzz. A throbbing headache forms in the back of my head.
“A coma! No one who is all right is in a coma!”
Why hadn’t he told me this originally?
“Ma’am, please calm down. He’s going to be okay.”
“How can you know this? You can’t possibly know this. I need to see a doctor.”
At that moment, everything goes to black. People come up and talk to me, saying words that I don’t really understand. Luckily, Brie is there to listen and say things in return. I just stand here, waiting until they let me in to see him. A doctor comes out and talks to us in a hushed tone. He uses a lot of medical jargon to explain that Aiden has been shot and they had to put him in a medically-induced coma.
“When will he come out of it?” I ask.
“We’re not really sure. We are going to be monitoring him around the clock. I will also be conferring with other doctors in order to make that decision.”
That can’t be good. You never want your doctor to meet with another doctor or doctors to make a medical decision. That means that something serious is going on, doesn’t it?
After a while, the doctor leaves. He answers most of Brie’s questions, who, at this moment, is much more levelheaded than I am. Basically, the conclusion is that there’s nothing really to do. The situation is what it is and now it’s just time to play the waiting and praying game.
After the doctor leaves, Officer Paulson comes over again and introduces me to his colleague, Detective Bradley. Bradley being his last name. Detective? Why is a detective here?
Detective Bradley asks me to repeat my story about what happened. Where was Aiden before he was shot? Why was he going there? I tell him exactly the same thing that I told Officer Paulson. Why the hell is all of this so important anyway, I wonder. I mean, he was going to buy some bagels. What’s the big mystery here?
“Detective Bradley, is it?” Brie asks. “Who do you think shot Aiden?”
He takes a step back and looks at Officer Paulson. Now, not only are the doctors conferring about this case, but so are the cops. What the fuck is going on?
“Well, we have a witness. The person who ran over to help Aiden and called 911.”
“And?” I ask. “What did they say?”
“He said that Aiden was having trouble talking. But when he asked him what happened, he said one name. And repeated it over and over.”
“Whose name?”
“I’m really not supposed to tell you,” he says.
“But you’re going to, right?” Brie asks.
Detective Bradley looks down at the floor and shuffles his feet. “Okay, but you didn't hear it from me.”
We wait.
“Blake Garrison.”
Chapter 12 - Ellie
When I hear the name…
The name Blake Garrison rings through my ears. The cop goes on to explain what the witness saw, but it all goes in one ear and out the other. I ask Brie to repeat it all to me.
“Blake shot him. From what the witness reported, he came up to him, they argued, and just as Aiden was walking away, he shot him,” Brie says after the cop leaves us alone.
I feel my blood starting to boil.
“How could he do this? Why? I mean, I knew that he was a piece of shit, but this? What the hell?”
“People do crazy things when they get fired. Or embarrassed. Especially men.”
I told Brie the story of what happened. The broad strokes anyway. She’s right. Of course, she’s right.
The cop and the detective come back and insist that I give them a statement. He wants to know more about Blake and Aiden’s history and what could’ve caused him to do this. Motive. Well, I’ve got plenty to offer in that department. He takes me aside and I give him the full story. I don’t leave anything out. There’s no point. Who would I want to protect? Definitely not Blake. No, the truth about who he is and what he’s capable of needs to come out once and for all.
“So, where is he now?” I ask.
“We have an ABP out on him,” Officer Paulson says. “I’m sure that they will pick him up anytime now.”
We spend the rest of the day in the hospital. I throw up every few hours and fall asleep in the waiting room, but I refuse to leave. I can’t. I ask Brie to bring me my pills and some comfortable clothes, but they don’t do much to make things better. Still, I wait.
Finally, they let us in to see him. I see him lying in the bed with his eyes closed. Lifeless. His skin is pale and splotchy. His hair is dull. He has none of the spark that I have fallen in love with. It’s not that he even looks helpless. He just doesn’t look like Aiden. Not my Aiden.
No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Tears start to run down my face. Please, please, come back, I whisper. I take his hand. It’s cold to the touch. He doesn’t respond. There’s just the steady beeping sound of the machine reminding me that he is still there. Somewhere.
“How long do you want to stay?” Brie asks. I turn around and look at her as if she’s insane.
Auctioned to Him Book 8 Page 16
