by Jay McLean
Then my phone rings, and Lucas's voice fills my ears. "Cameron." His voice is strained. "It's Lucy. She's in the hospital. You have to come. Now."
I tell him to text me the details as I rush back to the airline desk. I try to pay for a ticket to New Jersey, but my card gets declined. I even try the emergency card Mom gave me. Declined. I call Minge—I'll sell him the fucking Delorean if it means getting me to Lucy. He doesn't answer. I sit on the floor in the corner of the airport, shaking from crying so hard. I try my dad. His assistant tells me he's in a meeting. I curse her until she hangs up on me.
Lucas: Princeton Hospital. I'm scared. Please hurry!
I drop my head between my shoulders, dial a number, hold the phone to my ear, and I wait.
He answers first ring.
"Cameron? What's up?"
"Mark." My voice breaks. "I need your help."
That's all it takes.
An hour later, Mom and Mark arrive. He pre-purchased tickets on the way and an hour after that, I was in the air. We all were.
"Do they know anything?" Mom asks.
I shake my head, trying to keep everything together. And I do—until she pulls me in her arms and whispers, "It's okay, baby. You'll be with her soon."
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
-CAMERON-
Lucy doesn't talk about her mom's death often, but when she does, she tells me that the wait was the worst part. The not knowing. I always thought it was strange—but now, after sitting in the waiting room of the hospital for twelve hours—I get it. I completely get it.
The nurses at the desk said that it was family only beyond that point. I begged, I pleaded, I even tried to bribe them with Mark's money. Nothing worked. And then I got angry, beyond angry, and was asked to leave and cool off.
"I am her family!" I shouted at Mark while I paced back and forth outside the entrance.
"I know."
"We've been together longer than some married people and apparently that's not good enough!"
"I know," he said again.
After five minutes and me kicking the shit out of a trashcan, I was finally calm enough to go back in. Mom tried to be strong, but she was struggling just as much as I was.
I sit on the floor with my head between my knees and I wait. And wait. And wait.
Then I feel someone sit down next to me. I think it's Mark so I don't bother looking up. "Cameron." Tom's deep voice echoes in my ears.
My head lifts and my eyes snap to his. "Is she okay?"
His eyes are red and tired, like the time we sat on his porch and talked for hours. It seems like forever ago. "You can all come back now, but she only wants to see you."
My feet feel like lead as I follow behind him, my mom holding my hand the entire time. But all my senses are off. Like I'm under water, unable to hear, unable to breathe. I want to scream, like I do in the river behind my old house. But people can hear me now. People will know.
I place my palm flat against her door. And I try to breathe. A warm hand grasps my shoulder. I turn to Lucas, so much like his Dad. "Be strong," he says. "She needs your strength."
She cries when she sees me, but she won't look at me.
"Baby." I sit on the chair next to her bed and take her hand. "What happened?"
She looks up at the ceiling, her eyes filled with tears. She doesn't speak. She doesn't move. She doesn't grasp my hand. She just cries.
I stand up just so I can look down at her, and I run my hand across her forehead and into her hair. "Babe."
She cries harder when she hears my voice—when she sees my tears.
"I'm sorry, Cameron." Then she pulls her hand out of my hold and slowly flips to her side, away from me. I want to climb into the bed. I want to hold her. I want to know what the hell is happening. There are too many machines, too many wires. There's too much pressure on my chest from the weight of everything.
The door opens and a doctor walks in. She smiles at me, but it's sad. And I'm starting to get pissed again. There's too much sadness and nobody's told me why.
"You must be Cameron," she says. It's not a question, but I nod anyway.
Lucy tries to move, but she moans like she's in pain. "What happened?" I ask the doctor.
She looks up from the charts at the end of the bed, first to me, then to Lucy.
"I'm sorry," Lucy says again.
I kick off my shoes, make sure I'm not disturbing any equipment, and lie next to her.
"Can you turn to me?" I whisper.
I watch as she grimaces, but she slowly moves, the wires and cables connected shift with her.
Her eyes keep drifting closed, as if she's fighting a losing battle with sleep. "Tell him," she says, moving her head to my chest. I hold her there, like we've done so many times before.
"Are you sure, Lucy? You're still a little out of it. Maybe we should wait."
"He needs to know."
My heart picks up. "I need to know what?" I say to Lucy, but my words are meant for the doctor.
"I'm Dr. Scott, Cameron." I nod, because I can't speak. "Lucy asked that I speak to you about her condition. Is that okay?"
I nod again.
"Lucy was brought in this afternoon with severe vaginal hemorrhaging."
Lucy lets out a sob into my chest.
Dr. Scott continues, "We were able to stop the bleeding after we found the source." She sits on the end of the bed, as if getting comfortable.
I'm so fucking afraid to ask, but I do it anyway. "And?"
Dr. Scott's eyes move from Lucy to me. "Lucy was six weeks pregnant."
I gasp and hold Lucy closer.
"But she has the IUD..." I dip my head so my mouth is to her ear. "You're pregnant?"
She pulls back and looks up at me. Then shakes her head slowly.
"The IUD moved from its position, Cameron. It became ineffective. And Lucy was pregnant," Dr. Scott answers for her. "She had a miscarriage, Cameron. I'm sorry."
"What?"
"There's more," Lucy whispers into my chest.
I try to swallow, but the lump in my throat prevents it.
"By the time the ambulance got her here, Lucy had lost a lot of blood. We had to take her to surgery and find the cause so we could stop it. It's not normal to lose the amount of blood she did, not in a standard miscarriage, especially so early on."
"Can you please just tell me what happened?" I beg. I can't take it. The waiting. The not knowing. "Just tell me."
"Okay," she nods slowly.
Lucy cries harder.
"What's going on?" I say to no one in particular.
Dr. Scott clears her throat. "Lucy had what's called an ectopic pregnancy. Do you know what that is?"
I shake my head. "No."
"It's when the egg gets implanted into the fallopian tube instead of the uterus."
I try to think back to all the sex-ed classes, but nothing makes sense. "I don't understand. I'm sorry," I tell her. "Please just get to the point. Is Lucy going to be okay?"
She smiles, that sad same smile. "Lucy, herself, will be okay. What happens when the fetus attaches to the fallopian tube is that there's no room in there for it to grow. It can cause further damage to an already damaged tube. Lucy's tube ruptured, that's what caused the heavy bleeding. Normally, we'd be able to do a non intrusive keyhole surgery, but because of the amount of blood loss, we had to perform an open abdominal surgery."
Lucy weeps and I do my best to do what Lucas asked, to be her strength. But I'm not sure that I can.
Dr. Scott continues, "We had to remove the fetus, and one of her fallopian tubes. They also found scar tissue due to endometriosis on her other one... it's not in good shape either."
I try to let her words sink in, but I can't. I can't fucking understand what she's saying. Maybe I'm dumb, or maybe the pounding in my head is outweighing my brain's functionality. Maybe her voice is being muffled by me drowning above water.
Lucy keeps crying. She keeps saying she's sorry and I don't know why.
&
nbsp; "Cameron," Dr. Scott says. "I don't want to weigh you down with too many medical terms so I'm just going to tell you, okay?"
Oh my God. Tell me what? I thought we were done. "Okay."
"The likelihood of Lucy being able to conceive naturally is quite low. Even if she does fall pregnant, the chances of her being able to carry that baby to full term are slim."
"I'm sorry," Lucy cries.
And I break.
But I don't show it.
Because I need to be her strength.
Even when I have none.
***
She cries until she falls asleep. I don't speak; because I know that no words exist that can take away the hurt.
I wait until she's completely out before I leave her. If Mom and Mark felt half of what I felt, then they deserve that wait to be over.
The second my back is turned and my feet hit the floor, it starts to hit.
By the time I open her door, I'm done. Broken. Shattered.
I lean against the wall, not even bothering to acknowledge that Jake and Micky are here. I drop my head in my hands, and I cry. I let it all out. Mom cries too, even though she has no clue why.
Mark's hand on my shoulder and his voice seem to calm me, just enough so that I can look up and face him. "Cameron."
His eyes scan mine, searching for answers. He won't ask. He'll wait until I'm ready. "It's okay, son," he says. And I break all over again.
I fall because I have no strength, but he's there to catch me. His arms are around me and I'm crying. I'm crying so fucking loud, but I can't control it. I can't keep it in. Not anymore. Mom's next to me now, holding my hand.
Micky's sobbing.
"You'll both be okay," Tom says, sitting on the other side of me.
Then a familiar voice gets louder and louder as he walks toward us. Mark moves away. I stand up and turn to my dad. "Dad," I cry, because I've never needed him more in my entire life.
He holds up his finger for me to wait, and only now do I realize he's on the phone. It feels like minutes, no—hours, while we stand there.
"He needs another ten thousand," he says to whoever is on the other end.
We all stay silent, watching, waiting.
His eyes move, and I think they're for me, but they're not. He sees Jake. "I'll call you back," he says, then hangs up.
He walks past me, his hand out ready for Jake. Jake's eyes narrow as he stands up, looking over my dad's shoulder to me. "Dad," I say in shock.
He turns now, finally looking at me. He doesn't even notice my appearance. Doesn't realize that I've fallen apart. "Cameron, what's going on? You look fine. Your mom's been calling my assistant panicked, saying you're in the hospital. What's wrong with you?"
"It's Lucy," I stammer.
His eyebrows bunch in confusion. "Who the hell is Lucy?"
And all the hurt, all the pain, all the suffering, it's replaced by something else. Hate.
"I hate you," I seethe.
"What?"
"You heard me. You dead-beat asshole!"
"Cameron," he says, his hands up in surrender.
I step forward, my fists balled at my sides.
Tom's places a firm hand on my chest, stopping me from moving in.
"I don't know what your problem is, but I had to leave a very important client to come here—"
"FUCK YOU! My girlfriend just had surgery from a fucking miscarriage. We lost a baby! We can't have kids! And all you can think about is your goddamn work! FUCK YOU!"
Tom's hand on my chest pushes harder, or maybe I'm stepping forward. "You need to leave," Tom says to him.
He turns around and walks away, mumbling something about thanking God he didn't stick around.
There's a vice squeezing my heart. It hurts so damn much I can't fucking breathe. Then Mom's in my vision, her hands on my cheeks. "I'm sorry," she says, crying as she does.
"Cameron?" Lucy stands at her doorway looking weak. Probably from the effort of moving.
Instantly, I'm in front of her, helping her to stand.
She looks up at me, tears in her heavy lidded eyes. "You said we."
"What?"
"Bed," she croaks.
I help her back into bed, and pull the covers to her chin. "Tell them to leave, please," she whispers. "But I need you to stay."
*
She's lying on her side, her head to my chest, just like always. "You said we," she says again, her eyes struggling to stay open.
"What do you mean?"
"You've always said we, Cam. Like, we can get through anything. But it's different this time. This time, it's not we. It's just me. You can still have children. I can't."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
-CAMERON-
Lucy stays at the hospital for another three days. The nurses won't allow me to stay overnight, but I'm there from beginning to end of visiting hours. Each day, she physically gets better, but emotionally, she's getting worse. On the last day, it's as if she's completely checked out. I try talking to her, but she either ignores me or gets upset. And I don't know what to say or do to make it better.
To make it stop.
To make it right.
Her dad's booked a hotel suite in New Jersey for another two weeks. He doesn't want to risk anything. He wants to be close to the hospital, to the right doctors, if anything should happen.
I zip up her bag and turn to her. "You ready to get out of here, babe?"
She stares out the window and off into the distance.
Her dad picks us up in a rental and takes us to the suite.
"It's time for you to go home, Cameron," she deadpans.
"What do you mean?" I ask, distracted with putting her clothes away.
She takes my hand and sits me on the bed next to her. "I need you to go back home. I need some time alone, away from everything. Away from you."
"Away from me?" I croak.
Her eyes are red and filling with tears as they penetrate mine. She nods. "You need to go home. You need to work. You can't put your life on hold for me. I'll be there in two weeks."
I blow out a heavy breath, as heavy as my heart. "But I want to be with you. I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?"
"No, baby," she whispers. "You didn't do anything. Neither of us did anything. I just need some time to think. I'm just... I just need time to wrap my head around everything. It doesn't mean that I don't love you, because I do. I love you more than you could ever know. I promise that it's not about you."
She reaches up and wipes the wetness off my cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she says.
I try to kiss her, but she pulls away.
She always pulls away.
I want to stay. I want to fight her on this, but I know it won't do any good. If anything, it would only cause bad.
***
I stare out the window of the car while Tom drives me to the airport. He'd already paid for my ticket, which meant that he already knew she wanted me gone but never told me.
"I know you're mad at me," he says.
I'm not.
He adds, "But I had no choice. It's what Lucy wanted, and I think we both agree that what Lucy wants is most important now."
He's right, but what I want should be important too. What happened doesn't just affect her, it affects both of us. I stay quiet, because clearly what I have to say doesn't matter.
***
We speak on the phone every day.
The first day, we spoke for an hour. I don't know what we spoke about, but that wasn't the point. The point was she was talking to me. But just like at the hospital, each day she became more distant. So distant that she never even told me she was home. She said she'd be two weeks. It's only been one.
"Why didn't you tell me you were home?"
"I don't know," she says quietly.
"Can I come by?"
"I don't think that's a good idea, Cam. I'll call you tomorrow."
Then she hangs up.
I pick up my keys, get in my ca
r, and start driving to her house. Because I can't not. She's my heart. And I can't survive without my heart.
*
I knock, but there's no answer. The lights are on, so I know she's in there.
"Lucy!" I knock again.
And wait.
Nothing.
I use the key she gave me before she left. Shit, it feels like a lifetime ago.
She's sitting on the couch covered in a blanket with balled up tissues all around her. She's crying so hard that her shoulders heave with every sob.
I get to her faster than I thought possible. "Baby, what are you doing?"
She doesn't look up. She doesn't even acknowledge my presence. She just keeps crying, her hands gripping the edge of a picture frame to her chest.
I sit on the couch next to her and wrap my arms around her.
"I told you not to come here," she shouts through her tears.
I swallow the hurt, because I know she's feeling it too. "Lucy, come on. You need me here."
"No!" She pushes me away. "That's the problem, Cam! I need you. I've always needed you! And you can't always be there. Not anymore."
"What are you talking about?" I try to keep my voice even, but I'm struggling. "Baby—"
"Stop!" She sits up higher, gripping the frame tighter. "I can't deal with this. I can't be with you anymore!"
I suck in a shaky breath and let it out in a whoosh. Along with any sense of calm I've tried to hold on to. "Why the fuck are you pushing away? I've done nothing but want to be close to you and you keep doing it!"
She cries harder.
I shake my head—my gaze catching sight of the picture in the frame. "Lucy," I whisper, trying to pry it from her fingers.
"No," she sobs. "It's mine."
I pull the frame harder, knowing that whatever it is is causing her this type of hurt—the type that shouldn't exist. She finally releases it, giving up the will to keep it to herself.
I see the picture.
And my world goes black.
"You see?" she says, pointing at it.
I stand up, just so I know that I'm still alive, that I'm still able to breathe through the pain. I look down at the frame. A sketch. The one I made her after our first time. The one with her room in our future house. The one with her huge armchair, and all the little ones in front of it. The ones for all the children we wanted to have.
