Shauna places her grip around my forearm and shakes her head. “Let them get it out,” she quietly suggests. “It will be better if they do.”
I nod, agreeing that she’s right. I drop my hand from the knob, but I remain at the door, eavesdropping on their conversation, with Shauna by my side.
“Man,” Cody snidely huffs, “I just don’t get you. You’ve got some balls, coming back after leaving her like that. If I were her, I’d fucking kill you. She lost your baby, and you run off to another country. You’re nothing but a fucking pussy.”
“Oh, Ruby,” Shauna utters, slipping her hand onto my shoulder. “I never knew it was something like that. I’m so sorry.”
Reaching up, I squeeze her fingers and concentrate on the wooden door. I’m unable to look at her, not prepared to deal with those emotions, while she’s carrying a child of her own. I’m unsure what to say to her. I don’t want to say anything at all.
“You’re right,” Brent grunts. “I hate myself for the whole thing. She deserves way better. No one knows that more than me.”
“No”—a door slams, echoing through the garage—“I don’t think you do know. There’s no way you could because you weren’t here to see it. You weren’t here to watch what happened to her, watch her wither away into nothing. Just like everyone else in her life, you couldn’t man up when you needed to, when she needed you to. I didn’t think you would ever do that to her, knowing everything you do about her dad. You fucking gave up on her.” The sound of an empty bucket being kicked and hitting a hard surface reverberates through the air. “That girl counted on you, and I thought you earned it. I trusted you.”
“I never earned it,” Brent says in a quiet tone. “And I certainly never deserved it—or her.”
I tense uncomfortably from Brent’s words, and my stomach drops to my feet.
“No, you certainly didn’t deserve it or her,” Cody says. “And you definitely don’t now.”
Leaning in closer, I press my forehead to the door. I want so badly to scream at Cody to shut the fuck up and to leave Brent alone. Cody has no idea what I need and what I deserve.
“Well,” Cody continues, “I can’t let you fuck her over like that again. She’s finally getting her shit together. And what? You just swoop in with your fucking big-star soccer money and show her a good time. Then, what? Onto the next? Hell no.” Metal clatters, hitting the floor. “Fuck no. No way. Not fucking happening.”
“Cody,” Brent states calm and even. “Listen, you’re upset, and you have a point. But it’s not like that, man, not at all. I’m not here to mess up anything, certainly not with her.”
“Sure you aren’t,” Cody snaps. “I’m onto you, fucker. I know your game now. Save the poor girl with problems and then throw her away when the novelty wears off. Well, guess what? Not gonna happen this time. No fucking way.”
“I’m not leaving her, and it’s not like that. I fucked up.”
“You sure fucking did. And you fucked her up good.”
A car hood slams shut, piercing my ears.
“You fucking put her in the hospital!” Cody yells.
“What?” Brent asks, exasperated. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s it,” I say to Shauna, stepping back and opening the door. “I’ve heard enough.”
I step down into the garage, finding Cody in front of the blue classic car with his hands on the hood. His face is fuming with anger, his nostrils flaring. Brent is standing in a wide stance on the other side of the garage near the rear of the vehicle. He is befuddled and raging.
“Oh”—Cody rounds the fender toward Brent, not even noticing me—“you don’t know, do you? She didn’t tell you that. Trying to protect your poor sensitive feelings, I’m sure.”
“That’s enough, Cody!” I yell, approaching him. “You’ve said enough.”
“No,” he huffs, completely unfazed that I’ve entered the conversation. “He should know.”
“Yeah,” I loudly agree. “But that’s for me to tell him, not you.”
“Fine.” Cody stops in his tracks, crossing his arms. “Tell him. This should be good. I can’t wait to see the look on his face once he finds out what he did to you.”
“Ah, fuck you, Cody! Florida was not Brent’s fault, you idiot.”
“Ruby?” Brent asks tentatively. “What is he talking about?”
“Yeah, Ruby,” Cody mocks, “what am I talking about?”
“Cody,” Shauna stutters behind me.
“Just a minute,” he replies, focused intently on Brent. “I want to see him hear what she has to say.”
“Cody,” Shauna says again.
Brent never takes his eyes from mine, his face full of many questions—questions I plan to answer, questions I need to answer.
“Cody!” Shauna screams into the still air.
“What?” he shouts, dropping his hands to his sides.
“I think…” Her voice quivers. “I think my water just broke.”
We all turn and look in her direction. Shauna stands in the doorway, gripping the doorframe, while a trickle of water pools at her feet.
Eighteen
Anxiety abounding, I close the passenger side door and settle into the seat as Brent turns over the ignition.
“What hospital?” he asks, vacantly staring through the windshield.
“Does it matter?” I click on my seat belt.
“I meant for Shauna.” He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. “Which hospital?”
“Oh.”
I give him the name of the hospital, spelling it out, and he types it into the GPS. Once the directions are ready, Brent puts the car into gear and pulls out onto the street.
The second Shauna announced that her water broke, Cody raced to her side and then hurried her into the house. I’ve never seen him so worried in his life. The rest of her family quickly bolted into action, scurrying to get her into the car. Then, they followed close behind as Cody, in an obvious state of shock and stress, sped her to the hospital. Brent and I stepped back and out of the way, unsure of what to do other than turn off the oven so that the house wouldn’t burn down. Everything happened so rapidly.
Our journey is silent. Brent and I don’t talk. We just listen to the route being voiced by the GPS, leading us to the hospital. Brent sighs heavily a few times, and his mind is clearly running in circles as he tongues the inside of his cheek. My heart pounds like a drum, thumping and bellowing, from the tension placed between us. I’m so overwhelmed emotionally and mentally.
I contemplate, looking out the window, as I try to formulate the right words. I’m unsure of where to start and what questions to answer. Too much is happening in the present while the questions and accusations of the past linger in the air. Shauna’s untimely and sudden water-breaking has me concerned for her, Cody, and their baby.
This shouldn’t be happening. It’s too soon. She just told me she has five more weeks. I hope everything is going to be okay. What a mess, a complete and total mess. Why does everything have to explode at once?
After twenty minutes of a silent car ride, Brent pulls into the hospital parking lot, finds a spot, and shuts off the car. He gets out without a word and meets me by my door. The rigid mood is extremely palpable. He puts his arm around my shoulder, surprising me, and we walk together into the lobby. In the elevator filled with strangers, we ascend to the labor and delivery floor. The door slides open, and I lead us straight to the receptionist desk.
“Hi,” I say to the woman in a green cardigan sitting behind a computer. “We’re here about Shauna Miller. She arrived probably within the hour.”
The woman taps a few things onto the keyboard. “Are you family?”
“Yes.”
“Your name?”
“Ruby.” I strum my fingers on the desk. “Ruby Miller.”
“The rest of the family is back in a private waiting room. Let me give the room a call.” She picks up the phone, dials a number, and waits.
“Hi, this is the front desk. Ruby Miller is here if you could send someone out.” She pauses, listening. “Thanks.” She hangs up the receiver. “Someone will be right out.”
“Thank you.”
Brent and I move to the side of the room and wait for someone to come out to let us know what’s going on. He lightly rubs my back, relieving some of the building stress.
About a minute later, the massive automatic door swings open, revealing Tony and Marcus, two of Shauna’s brothers.
“Hi, guys,” Tony says, hand outstretched in a formal greeting.
Brent shakes it without any hesitation.
“How is she?” I ask, not going through the usual salutations.
“She’s doing good,” Marcus states, hands tucked into his pockets. “They have her settled in a room and hooked up to monitors. Cody is with her now.”
“How’s the baby?” I open and close my hands.
“So far, so good,” Tony says. “The doctors are watching her closely, but they’re a little concerned since she’s not quite full-term. There could be some complications, I guess. But the nurse said we will just have to wait and see.”
“Do they have any idea how long until the baby comes?”
“Based on what the doctor told us,” Marcus says, “it could be a few hours”
“And they can’t stop the labor, right?” I ask.
“No,” Tony informs us, “not since her water broke.”
“Okay.” I lean into Brent.
He hugs me close, his fingertips pressing into my left shoulder.
“You guys are more than welcome to come back and wait with us,” Marcus offers, signaling toward the door. “The room is small, but we’re all hanging out in there.”
“Thanks,” Brent says. He tilts his head down toward me. “What do you want to do?”
I try to wrap my thoughts around everything, but it’s a lot to comprehend all at once. There’s nothing we can do but endure the hospital waiting game. Sitting in a small room, watching the minutes tick by, hoping everything is okay, counting down every second—I just can’t do that right now.
I’m barely holding myself together, but I can do it just like I always do.
“We’ll join you guys in a little bit,” I say. “I want to go to the cafeteria first.” I pause, contriving an excuse. “And get a cup of coffee.”
“No rush,” Tony says. “It’s going to be a while anyhow.”
“We’ll see you guys in a bit,” Marcus says, heading back toward the door. He hits the button, and it swings open. “I’ll let Cody and Shauna know you’re here.”
“Thanks,” Brent and I say in unison.
Then, we turn around and return to the elevator.
Reaching the elevator bank, Brent presses the button to call for a car going down. I let go of his hand and stop next to the wide windows on the other side of the hall. I stare into the courtyard below. The few leaves on the trees appear so delicate and fragile as the wind teases them, begging them to let go. I wonder how long they can hold on.
Brent joins me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “You okay?”
“No”—my lip twitches—“not at all.”
His warm breath floats across the back of my neck as he exhales. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” I reply softly, peering behind me into his comforting green eyes through my tear-pricking brown ones.
The elevator dings, indicating the car has arrived. The doors open and reveal the empty space. We don’t move. Time hangs in the air, and our opportunity to take the elevator disappears. Lingering in the silence, I lick my lips, readying myself to deal with questions about my past.
The issues expand within the invisible space.
“We need to talk,” I say, cautious. “I-I’m so sorry. That back there…you didn’t deserve that.”
His face hardens. He says nothing.
An uncomfortable silence stretches into infinity with the tick of the clock hanging on the wall.
“Come with me,” he says, pulling me in the opposite direction from the elevators and reception desk.
We walk down the hall and make a few turns on an aimless journey. At the end of a wide hallway lined with patient rooms, Brent opens the door to a stairwell generally used in case of a fire. He leads us down a flight, stops at the top of the landing, and takes a seat before gesturing for me to sit next to him. I do as requested, staring at the concrete blocks on the wall.
We sit together in mutual muteness, not moving, barely even breathing.
“How much did you hear?” Brent finally asks, scarcely above a whisper.
“Enough,” I reply, fidgeting with my fingertips. “Enough to know that Cody is an asshole. He shouldn’t have gone after you like that.”
“I’m kind of surprised he didn’t hit me.”
“He probably wanted to,” I mumble.
“Yeah, maybe.” He drops his hands between his legs, situating his body to face mine. “But I’m not surprised he went after me. I kind of expected him to say something.”
“You did?”
“Sure I did. He’s not exactly known for keeping his thoughts to himself. I knew what I was getting myself into, especially since he’d already given you hell this week.”
Of course Brent would expect it. He knows Cody, too, even if it has been years since they last saw one another. Some personality traits never die.
“What he said though…” He palms my knee. “Some of those things I deserved, and he had every right to say them. I really did mess up, and I do regret leaving. I think about it daily. I know what I did when I left for Europe and how it looks.”
“But you don’t deserve the blame for what…” I bite my lip, cringing. “For what happened in Florida.”
“Maybe,” he huffs. “But Cody sure thinks so.” He runs his hand along my left shoulder and down my arm. “What did happen? It has something to do with this”—his fingers line the raised scar under the thin cotton fabric of my shirt—“doesn’t it?”
I swallow. “It does.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” he gently says, “but I wish you would.”
“It’s not your fault.” I ball my hands. “I’ll tell you. It’s not a secret”—I bravely glimpse at his patient face—“not that I would keep any from you anyhow.”
“Are you afraid to tell me?”
“Petrified.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s ugly, and I’m not proud of myself at all.”
“We all have a bit of ugly in our past.” He closes his lids. “I’m not immune to it either.”
Brent captures my hands in his and hypnotically rubs the backs of them with his thumbs, making circles, as we sit with our own thoughts and each other. I concentrate on his movements as they pull me into a state of calm and comfort.
“It wasn’t long after you left,” I whisper.
He halts all movement. I peek at him from under my lashes, and he stares at me. Brent nods slightly as he drops his gaze back to my hands and continues the circular motion. The passage of each rounding of his thumbs pulls me back to my train of thought.
“It was that summer after you went to Sweden,” I continue. “Cody was right. I was a mess, a really big one, but you knew that before you left. After you went overseas, I went home from school for summer break, and it kind of got worse for a while.” I try to search his face, but it’s still aimed at our joined hands. “Cody thought getting away would be good for me and help to get my life back together before going back to school. It made sense since everything at home, in that town, was just a memory of you. That’s why I stopped responding to your emails. I couldn’t…deal with the reminders anymore. Every time I opened one, it just hurt too much. I needed a change and a break. After I sent you that last email, letting you know we were taking a trip, I deleted the account right before Cody and I
went down to Florida to visit his friend, Russ.” I pause, making eye contact.
“I remember.” Intent on listening, Brent whispers, “Go on.”
The words rise from within, wanting to get out. “When we got there, I had no intention of staying, but after being there for a week, I saw no reason to go back, and then Russ said I could stay with him.”
“So, you did?”
“Yes.” I bite my lip, feeling uncomfortable, as I remember the series of decisions leading to that terrifying moment. “I stayed there because it was easy. I couldn’t do school or anything anymore.”
“And what did Cody say?”
“He trusted Russ, so I did, too. Cody agreed that maybe taking some time off and being out of state might be a good thing.”
Brent’s forearms tighten as he tries to hold in the anger growing inside of him. He didn’t know Russ well during high school. Russ and Cody were best friends, and they liked to party. Everyone in town knew their reputation. Russ was most noted for his laissez-faire attitude and that continued when he lived in Florida. But I didn’t care about any of that. I didn’t care about anything other than not remembering what had happened with Brent and my life, and Russ was happy to offer that escape. So, I took it.
“I called your dad’s house when my emails stopped going through to you,” Brent quietly states. “Did you know that?”
“Yes, he told me.”
“I wanted to talk to you. You changed your number. Did you tell him not to give it to me?”
“No. He probably didn’t have it written down. I bet he didn’t even know which one it was on the caller ID. He never called me while I was there. I always called to check in on him. I’m surprised he even remembered to tell me that you had called. He wasn’t doing well then with his sobriety.”
“I left my number, hoping—”
“I never got it,” I tell him, saddened by his attempts to contact me. Pain slices my gut, knowing that far away, Brent was still searching for me, even after I’d pushed him away. “I’m so sorry, Brent. I never—”
“I know,” Brent says, resolved and far too understanding. “Go on,” he encourages. “What happened next?”
These Days Series: After Tuesday | Forgotten Yesterday | Deciding Tomorrow Page 48
