Crank

by Shauna Allen

  Straightening, I gazed into her eyes, which were so dark they were blue-black in this lighting. “So, what are you girls talking about over there? Or will you have to kill me if you tell?” I smirked as she smacked my arm.

  “Nothing. Just girl talk.” She leaned her head against my shoulder. “Danielle said Mom and Dad missed me at Christmas.” I heard the disbelief in her voice.

  “I’m sorry.” I kissed her forehead. “Should we have gone over?”

  “No. Definitely not.” She shook her head emphatically and I knew there was something else there other than the normal tension. She peered up at me. “I’m just not . . . I don’t want to talk to them right now. Not after . . .”

  “After what, baby?”

  Her gaze dropped to my collar. “They just haven’t been very supportive, let’s put it that way. And they’re a little too happy about the divorce.”

  I cringed. I knew how her parents felt about me. Hell, they made it crystal clear every time we went over. But I endured it, turning the other cheek and all that, for my wife. If not for her, I’d have probably punched her pompous dad right in his fucking mouth a long time ago.

  She looked back up, her fingers brushing rhythmically along my shoulder. “It’s not a big deal. It’s status quo in the Jackson household. I just can’t . . .”

  “I get it.”

  We swayed a little longer and I tried to relax, but this shit was killing me. I didn’t care if her family hated me, how could they treat their daughter like that?

  “So, Jewel’s going to stay with Rach for a while. Until she sorts out a place to live and a job and everything.”

  I blinked at her abrupt change of subject. “Huh. That’s good, I guess.”

  “It is. They’re both going through a hard time right now and can help each other out. Rach could use the company and Jewel needs some legal help.”

  “Is she worried about being safe here?” The thought of a man hurting a woman really pissed me off, and it was really hitting home now that I’d seen the blank look in Jewel’s eyes. I’d love to knock the fucker’s teeth out.

  Dee shrugged. “I don’t know if she feels safe anywhere yet. I don’t know a lot of details, but sounds like he worked her over pretty good. Physically and emotionally.”

  We swayed a bit more and I glanced over at the three women sitting together, their heads bent in conversation. Pink polo was nowhere in sight. At the next table, my friends appeared quiet, their eyes pinned to the table as well as if their protective instincts had been stirred, too.

  As the song came to an end, Delilah drew back from me, a strange expression on her face. Fear filled her eyes—maybe something more—but I could tell she was pushing it back. Then her face got as pale as her dress and she wobbled a bit in my arms. Her glazed eyes had me simultaneously scared as shit and fiercely protective.

  I clutched her closer, hoping it was nothing. “What is it, babe?”

  We were standing frozen on the dance floor as couples spun around us to the country waltz now playing from the speakers.

  “I . . . uh . . .” She swallowed as if forming her words and brushed hair back from her damp forehead. “I need . . . I need to go . . .” She didn’t seem clear on what she needed.

  I followed her gaze as she looked down. And that’s when I saw the blood soaking her white dress and dripping to the floor, and my breath was literally stolen.

  I shoved past everyone on the dance floor and hustled my quickly wilting wife out the door, tossing a quick goodbye over my shoulder for our friends, ignoring their confused expressions. As the cold air blasted us outside, she huddled into me and I knew it was just as much from fear as the chill. I tucked her under my arm and rushed her toward the car.

  Pressing a kiss to her crown, I whispered, “It’s gonna be okay, baby. It’s okay.”

  She didn’t respond as chills wracked her body. I held her arm as she slid into the passenger seat then I ran around and got in to gun the engine. I shot her a look, but her hands were fisted in her lap as she stared at the blood stain. The horrid, deep red made me want to vomit. I shoved that aside and ripped out of the parking lot toward the hospital as silent, desperate pleas erupted from the deepest part of my soul.

  It was the cruelest kind of déjà vu as Delilah’s first miscarriage ripped through my memory. I was begging, pleading with God to save this baby by the time we got to the Emergency Room entrance and I threw the car into park. I jogged to the passenger seat and helped her out of the car, swallowing down bile at the puddle of blood in the seat underneath her. As she stood, her eyes met mine and the normally bright blue had dulled and she looked a million miles away. Suddenly, I realized I’d never been more scared in my life. We were doing better. Things were on track. This was supposed to be our shot at a family. A fresh start.

  Damn it!

  Anger crowded out the fear as I helped her in through the sliding doors and to the nurse waiting behind the Plexiglas window.

  They got us right in and I sat, numb, as the nurse helped Dee change into a hospital gown and shoved her blood-soaked dress into a hospital bag and handed it to me. I stared down at it dumbly, just wanting to trash it.

  I clutched her cold hand desperately in mine, willing her to warm up. But no matter how many blankets they piled on her, she shook uncontrollably. But it was her tiny mewls of pain that were killing me.

  The doctor got to us quickly and examined her. She did a quick ultrasound then turned sad eyes to me. “I’m so sorry . . .”

  I stared at the screen. The same little blip from the photo Dee had given me, same little arms, little dark circles where the eyes were. But the heart in the chest was still. It was over.

  I blinked back against the tears burning my eyes and cursed the fates for this bloody, senseless death. Not just of our child, but a little piece of us. Again.

  Next to me, the stretcher began to shake as silent, horrid sobs tore through Delilah. I stretched over and curled around her as much as I could, letting my tears fall with hers.

  The doctor’s voice began to cut through the emotional haze and I blinked in her direction, taking in her wrinkled white coat and kind blue eyes, so much like Delilah’s. “. . . surgery . . .”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I said, my voice hoarse.

  She sat on the rolling stool and placed a gentle hand to Dee’s knee. “Normally, we might wait and see if your body will pass the baby on its own, but it looks like you’ve had what we call a placental abruption. That’s where the placenta that feeds the baby separates from the uterine wall and causes bleeding. Sometimes pain, sometimes not. But, we want to get all the products of conception out as soon as possible to stop the bleeding, so we need to get you to the operating room. I’ve called your obstetrician and he’s coming in to take care of it.”

  “What caused this?” I asked, my mind reeling with her talk of blood and surgery.

  “There’s no telling. Sometimes these things just happen and the baby cannot survive, especially this small. I’m so sorry.” She paused and quickly went over the procedure and the risks. “Do you have any questions?”

  I glanced askance to Delilah, but she just shook her head, her hand cupping her stomach.

  “No. Thank you.”

  She nodded and stepped quietly from the room.

  A minute later, a nurse appeared and started an IV and drew blood, then helped Delilah remove all her jewelry and put her hair up in a blue surgical cap.

  I glanced down at the wedding ring in my palm, remembering when I’d put it back on her. “You all right, baby?”

  With her head turned away from me and staring at the wall, I couldn’t see her face as she shook her head. No. Of course she wasn’t all right. We’d just lost our fourth baby. The idle thought hit me that we’d have to buy another angel ornament for the tree next year.

  Delilah’s cell phone vibrated from where I’d tucked it into my front pocket and I fished it out, not letting go of her fingers with my free hand.

  “H
ello?”

  “Blake?” It was Rachel and she sounded concerned, but the sound of music and chatter nearly overpowered her. “Is everything okay? You guys bolted out of here so fast, I was worried. Everyone else thinks you just went home to get it on, but I didn’t think so. Delilah looked . . . I dunno . . . different. Is she all right?”

  I peered at my pale wife, whose eyes were now closed, tears streaming down her face. Should I tell? What would Dee want? “Babe?” I whispered.

  Her eyes slid open and she stared at me.

  I covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Rachel. What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t care.” She closed her eyes again and I bent to brush a kiss to her knuckles. I’d give anything to take this pain from her. Anything.

  I uncovered the phone and hesitated. “Um . . . no, she’s not okay. We’re at the hospital now and she’s about to go into surgery.”

  “What? Why?” Then she paused, understanding pulsing across the line. “The baby?”

  “Yea . . . yeah.” My voice cracked.

  “Damn it. I’m so sorry!”

  I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and bowed my head. Another doctor walked in, his scruff telling me he’d been awoken for this. “Listen, I gotta go. Doctor’s here.”

  “Call me later and let me know how she is.”

  “Sure.”

  I clicked off and listened as the doctor went through things quickly with Delilah, even though I knew she wasn’t listening. But she tugged her hand from mine and nodded her understanding anyway. The same nurse who’d started the IV came back with a clipboard of papers and we quickly went through the consents. Next thing I knew, they were wheeling Dee away.

  “Wait.” I jumped up and leaned across the rail to kiss her cheek. “I love you.”

  She didn’t look at me. Didn’t respond.

  As they took her from the room and the door swung shut leaving me utterly alone, I somehow knew this might have just killed us.

  Delilah

  I woke up groggy and with a sore throat. I pried my heavy eyes open and glanced around. The area was dark and empty except for a lone light shining over a nurse typing on a computer.

  Probably sensing a change, she glanced up. “Hey.” She smiled and approached. “You’re awake. How are you feeling, Mrs. Travers?”

  I blinked and mentally assessed my drugged body. There was some pain, but it was the overwhelming sense of emptiness that was threatening to swallow me. “Okay,” I managed in a dry whisper.

  “Ice chip?” She offered me a spoon.

  I nodded and accepted it gratefully, crunching and letting the cold slide down and soothe my throat.

  “Everything went fine,” she said in a soft voice, offering me another ice chip. “Your bleeding is much better. Now they’re just watching your blood count to make sure you don’t need a transfusion. Hopefully, you’ll get to go home tomorrow.”

  I glanced at the white-faced hospital clock on the wall. It was nearly two in the morning. I’d spent the turn of the New Year in surgery as they took my dead baby from my womb. It felt every bit as wretched as every other time. Maybe worse. Maybe it was because I’d lost so much more blood this time and felt like crap . . . or maybe it was because I’d seen the hopelessness in Blake’s eyes. The same look he’d carried every single time he left me emotionally to seek his redemption. The same as every other time he broke my heart trying to heal his own.

  That baby was the tie binding us as we worked through this valley. What would happen now? I could only venture a guess, and it wasn’t a happy ending. There was no way we could survive this, no matter how badly we might want it.

  The nurse set the cup of ice down and checked the monitors above my head before peering down at me. “We don’t usually let visitors back here in recovery, but you’re the only patient tonight, so would you like me to go get your husband?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head.

  No.

  The loss of this baby was fate shoving me where I’d always known we’d end up. It was time to admit I couldn’t compete with his demons . . . and I didn’t want to anymore.

  Blake met me in my room as soon as I was transferred, his face a bleak mask of despair and exhaustion. He grabbed my hand. “God, baby. Are you okay? Do you hurt?”

  I bit my lip, hating that we’d lost us. These past weeks felt like a façade in the wake of this loss. “I’m fine.” I pried my hand free and tucked the sides of my covers tighter around my body.

  He was silent a moment. The clock ticked loudly from the wall and I suddenly just wanted to sleep for days. “Babe?” he said.

  I peered at him and wanted to curl in on myself. The emptiness in his eyes told me he was already fading, already lost to me. I should’ve braced myself better for this instead of hanging onto fanciful dreams of true love conquering all. Our love wasn’t true. It was down and dirty and elemental. “I’m fine, Blake,” I said. “Go home and get some sleep.”

  He blinked like he was coming out of a fog. “What?” He studied me, his expression sliding from confusion to hurt to understanding and acceptance. “You want me to go?”

  “What do you want?” I threw back, though I knew what he was really asking.

  “What do I—?” He shook his head and raked a rough hand over his hair. “After everything, after tonight . . . this . . .” He swept a hand through the air, indicating my sad state in the hospital bed. “You’re asking me to go?”

  I nodded, hating the defeat in his eyes. But it needed to happen. Now was as good a time as any. “Yes,” I whispered.

  He was silent several beats as my breath labored in my lungs. This was it. He’d either leave or fight. And I knew if he was anything, he was a fighter. He may not realize it, but I’d spent the last decade of our lives together learning him. I needed to push him or he’d die trying to fix what had been shattered beyond repair.

  I steeled myself and glanced up. His eyes glittered as he continued to study me “There’s no reason for you to stay anymore.”

  His lips parted then he slammed his mouth closed, bottling up whatever response was on the tip of his tongue. His eyes searched mine until I turned away. “Fine. Have it your way, Princess. For now.”

  The door whooshed shut with an air of finality, and in the dark silence of my room, his absence ripped through me like never before and I wept for all of us.

  “Delilah?”

  I woke to someone shaking my shoulder. Squinting against the bright light, I slid open one eye. “Hey.”

  Relief flooded Rachel’s face and she sunk into the chair next to my bed. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” I shifted to sit higher and grimaced as cramps gripped my stomach.

  “You’re such a freakin’ liar.” Her words chastised me, but her face was full of compassion.

  “Yeah, well . . .”

  She gripped my hand and I stared at the way the sunlight shot through her red curls like a blaze. “Everyone sends their love. Don’t worry though, I only told Jewel what happened. Everyone else thinks you just got sick. I figured since she’s your cousin and living with me now . . .”

  “That’s fine.”

  She squeezed my fingers. “Danielle said to give you a kiss. She had to get back to school.”

  I nodded, not having the energy for words.

  “I’m so, so sorry. I hate that this happened to you guys just when—”

  My doctor bustled in before she could finish her thought. “Good morning, Delilah.” He flipped through a clipboard in his hand and glanced at some papers. “Well . . .” He peered back at me over the top of his glasses. “Everything went perfect last night and your blood work looks fine this morning. You’re free to go home as long as you have someone to drive you. I’ll call in some pain pills for you to the pharmacy. I just need to see you for a follow-up in the office in two weeks.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Is your husband here to take you home?”

  “N
o. My friend, Rachel, can drive me.” I ignored her surprised glance.

  “All right then,” he said. “See you in two weeks. Take care.”

  Rach waited until he was out the door before spinning on me. “Where’s Blake? What’s going on?”

  I shifted and let my legs dangle off the edge of the bed. “Nothing’s going on. He’s at home. Or at the garage.” I squeezed my eyes shut as dizziness washed over me.

  “You just had a miscarriage and surgery! What the hell?!”

  Without replying, I stood to dress so we could leave before he showed up. I searched around for my clothes before remembering my dress was probably ruined with blood. Guess I’d have to go home in a hospital gown. Rachel grabbed my arm to steady me when I wobbled, just as a nurse came in. She tsked at me then helped me sit back down. She removed my IV and went over all my discharge instructions. Eyeing me shivering in my hospital gown, she asked, “Do you have any clean clothes with you?”

  “Her husband can—”

  I shook my head and shot Rachel a look to quiet her. “No.”

  The nurse’s eyes darted between me and Rachel. “Well, I can get you some hospital scrubs to wear home.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Once she left, I faced Rachel. “Will you take me back to your place?”

  Her frown deepened. “Why not go home? To your husband?”

  I thought of the dark emptiness in his eyes when he’d left me last night. “It’s complicated. Please. I just need some space to figure this out, okay?”

  She seemed to take pity on me, relenting as the nurse came back and helped me change clothes.

  “You’re going to explain once you’re back on your feet,” she said, her voice low.

  I nodded, grateful, and climbed into the wheelchair the nurse had brought, wishing I could leave all the ugliness behind me in that hospital bed.

  When we got to Rachel’s apartment, Jewel made sympathetic noises over me and let me use what was her room now. Where I promptly slept for another four hours.

  I didn’t care about their sympathy. I didn’t care about work, about eating, my health . . . I didn’t care about much of anything at the moment. Grief was literally swallowing me whole.