by Brandi Aga
Ryan walks around the island and stands there as dumbfounded as I am. He squats down in front of me and takes the papers away. “Leylah, he’s just trying to get to you. Come here.”
“No! He wants my daughter,” I lash out at him and he flinches at the use of the word my. I shouldn’t be throwing that in his face, not now, but him consoling me isn’t going to fix this. Everything we just built together the past three days feels like it was snuffed out in all of three seconds.
He takes the papers out of my hands and disappears to his office, the door slamming shut behind him. Why does it feel like everything is starting to fall apart just when everything was going so right?
“What are you trying to do?” I haven’t spoken to him since he tried to ambush me the last time, in the grocery store and in my driveway. I finally worked up the nerve to call him. His and his lawyer’s phone number are written at the bottom of the forms for me to kindly reach out to if I have any questions.
“Well hello to you too, babe.” His words are laced with humor and I’m feeling anything but humorous. Murderous is more like it. The thought of him trying to ruin my marriage again without even asking me what I want. After completely ghosting me, pregnant and alone, just to come back over a year later and knock down everything I have worked so hard to rebuild. Add my baby girl into the mix and he’s just asking for it. I am seething. “I take it you got my papers?”
“Why?” The word comes out raspy, and it’s all I can muster up without saying something that he could hold against me. I consider it for a moment, if I should ask or not. But I feel like he owes me that at least.
He sighs. His voice is echoey. He’s probably sitting in his office, frowning at his desk where my ass once sat. I shake my head clear of the memory. I cannot, will not, go down that path. They’re just memories. They’re not a part of who I am anymore. If I keep spiraling down into that depression of unwanted memories with him, I don’t know that I’ll be able to climb out again.
“She’s my daughter, too, Leylah.”
“Is it because I won’t see you? Is this your form of punishment?” I hear voices in the background and it just fuels my anger that he can have this conversation so nonchalantly.
“Nope. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Right. Well, I’m not agreeing to those papers.” My voice is shaky, and I know he can hear it. That just pisses me off even more.
“Do what you have to do.” The unspoken threat in his demeanor sends chills down my spine. All those times I spent crying for this man when he wouldn’t so much as answer my texts. Here I am, on the line with him after all those late nights of wondering why he won’t talk to me, and now I’m the one damn near speechless. “I don’t want to hurt you, Leylah.”
“Don’t you, though?”
“I think you’ve hurt enough people for the both of us.”
Me? How dare he accuse me of doing the one thing he’s so good at doing to everybody else. “You left me…” I shout it down the phone and I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even know I was going to say it.
“I’m here now.”
I shake my head even though I know he can’t see it. “It’s too late.”
“Is it, though?”
“You know that it is.”
“I don’t think you believe that to be true.”
“No! See! You don’t get to just leave my life unannounced and come back into it the same way.”
“Okay, Leylah. I gotta go.” I roll my eyes even through the tears. Of course, always deflecting. Always running away from me when I demand something of him. Time, answers, loyalty. Everything. I end the call before he does and breathe a sigh of relief to be done with it. Looks like I’m going to have to get a lawyer of my own. I should have done it from the start and I’m kicking myself for not doing so sooner.
Ryan and I pull into the parking lot of an older 1970s farmhouse. It’s obviously been redone. Flawless paint, a wrap-around porch, and all the vintage vibes with a modern touch. It’s beautiful. Expensive. That means he is going to be expensive. I look to Ryan for support even though it’s tense as hell in here right now. He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles in attempt to calm my nerves.
“I’m here for you, Ley. No matter what.”
I take a few deep breaths and unbuckle my seat belt forcing my body to go through the motions. It’s now or never. I don’t want to be late for this appointment. As much as he’s costing me, I can’t afford an overcharge.
“Mrs. Foxworth, right?” An older slender man walks through a set of sliding wooden doors as soon as we enter the front door. I nod. “Come on in, I’m Shane Gadsby.” He gestures to the office behind him. He closes the doors for privacy as soon as we take our seats. The office is extravagant, more so than I expected from the outside. He has taste, clearly. I set my purse on top of the marble tabletop and gather my papers for him. “So, I had a chance to sit down and review the papers you sent over, and I’m just going to let you know now that California laws are quite different than those in Texas. The state that the child was conceived in has jurisdiction over custody and visitation issues.” He takes a seat and folds his hands into one another. “Since there is not an order in effect now, and your daughter has not resided in California at any point in time in her life, a paternity test would be a good place to start.” He looks to Ryan and then me. “Just to cover all our bases. They’re going to order one anyway.” He takes one look at my face and grimaces. “They were smart. Knew where to hit right below the belt. But that doesn’t mean this is a complete loss,” he says, gesturing to the papers spread out before us. “You won’t lose primary custody of your daughter, trust me there. This is Texas, after all.”
“Is there any way to avoid him having her at all?”
“Is that what you want?” Ryan squeezes my hand, letting me know that it’s okay. ‘No matter what’, he had said.
“I don’t want to intentionally keep her from her biological dad. What I don’t want is my baby, because she is still very much that, halfway across the country without me.”
“So, visitation isn’t off the table.” He makes a note in his file and I feel like my body is breaking out in hives. I just want to make it stop and take Maddy and hide where no one can find us. But then that would make me a hypocrite because that’s what I’m afraid he might do.
“I just want to make the right decision…for her.”
“The worries of parenting. You wouldn’t be a good one if you didn’t worry. We all want what’s best for the little ones. The decisions we make now will impact them for the rest of their lives.” Right, so I just need someone to tell me what to do. Help me make this heavy decision so I don’t have to.
“Is there some kind of protection we can get, so that he can’t leave the state with her?” I can’t look at Ryan as he asks all the questions I should be asking but my voice is somewhere buried between shame and regret.
“I’d be happy to help you every way I can. The outcome might not be what you want, but it’ll be a hell of a lot better than what could happen.”
“Let’s do it,” Ryan says. I look to him and offer a silent thanks. It’s all I can do right now.
Being back at work after vacation is a bummer, but I started the shift feeling refreshed and it was exactly what I needed. I came back to days this rotation and for the unforeseeable future, which also helps, because my body is getting too old to stay awake all night. I’m not eighteen anymore. When I work nights, it feels as though my body can’t catch up. I’ve felt that way for weeks now and it’s exhausting. Even though the days are still long, I’m looking forward to some normalcy in our daily lives now that I can spend nights at home and sleep while they sleep.
By the end of the day my feet hurt, my back aches, and I could use a good soak in the tub as soon as I get home. I call Ryan like I always do on the drive home but I spend a good five minutes in the parking garage trying to get my phone to connect to Bluetooth so I can drive hands-free. The last thing I want to d
o right now is get pulled over for talking on the phone.
When it still doesn’t connect, I pull out of my parking space and dial him anyway. I’ll mess with it while I go. I just want to get home already.
“Hey, Ley. How was work?”
“Good.” I yawn. “Will you put my scrubs in the dryer, please?” Laundry is the last thing I want to do when I get home. I never did get around to adding that to my to-do list.
“Yeah, I’ll do it when we hang up. You on your way?”
“I don’t know why my Bluetooth isn’t connecting.” I’m merging onto the freeway and hitting the little blue button like I’ve done a million times before, but it won’t go through for some reason.
“Better not get a ticket.”
I look into my side mirror as I merge and make sure no cars are in my blind spot. This freeway is always chaos, no matter what time of day it is. “Ryan let’s—” I’m about to suggest that I grab something quick to eat on the way home so we can watch a movie and relax afterward, when a truck blindsides me and hits the side of my car. The impact of the hit knocks me sideways and the car in the other lane rams the back end of me on the other side. I’m being thrown around like I’m nothing but a little metal Ping-Pong ball.
I drop my phone upon the impact, and I don’t know where it landed, or if Ryan’s still on the line or not, but I call out to him as soon as the car stops moving. “Ryan. Someone hit me. I can’t see anything.” I start to shake as soon as everything goes still. I’m pretty sure I’m upside down and being held in place by my seat belt and the airbag. My passenger side window is busted out and all I see on the ground is glass and debris. I feel around the roof, which is now the floor, for my phone but it’s nowhere in sight.
I’m scared to unbuckle myself incase I’m injured. I’m aware that I might not be thinking clearly with my adrenaline running, and I don’t know the full extent of the damage from where I sit. Or hang, rather. So, I breathe and wait. It’s a lot different when you’re in this situation than when you’re helping someone after the fact.
Luckily, since the road I’m on is a regularly busy place to be, I don’t have to wait long before glass crunching and metal bending can be heard through all the road noise around me. A random stranger squats down into my line of view and pokes his head in through the broken window across from me. “She’s conscious. Still in her seat belt,” he calls out to whomever is here to help me, I hope. “Ma’am, what’s your name?”
“Leylah.”
“Are you hurt anywhere that you know of?”
“I don’t think so. It just hurts my head hanging here.”
“Good. Good, that’s good.” A group of men crowd around my car and set a stretcher down at the passenger window. An EMT crawls through to support my neck.
“A nurse,” he says, flicking my hospital ID badge on my mirror out of the way now that it’s currently on the ground. “Good girl staying put. We’re going to get you out of here in just a sec.” He unbuckles my seat belt and supports my weight so I don’t fall as I’m released. He climbs out backward and takes me with him straight onto the stretcher.
“Do you see my phone? I was on a phone call.”
“Check for a phone, Newton.” The man helping me nods toward someone standing nearby.
A woman with a kind face leans over me and finishes strapping me in for the ambulance ride. Neck brace. Straps over my chest, middle, and legs. And last, an oxygen tube in my nose. I get the whole shebang. “Is there anyone we can call for you?”
“Yes, my husband. Ryan. Is anyone else hurt?”
She pats me again like I’m a child and tells me not to worry that everyone is in good hands. I want to tell her to cut the shit and tell me what happened. Who hit me and what caused it? Are they okay? But before I get the chance to say anything else, the wheels of my stretcher are up and rolling into the back of the ambulance, and the woman is no longer hovering above me to ask questions to.
The guy riding in the back with me checks my oxygen levels and blood pressure. All my vitals are okay, if not a little high. He starts an IV and between that and the movement of the ambulance I’m afraid I’m going to need a barf bag.
“Did someone find my phone?”
“We got your personal things that were in the car. They’ll be with you the whole way.” My head hurts suddenly, I’m assuming from hitting it on the airbag and the blood rushing to my brain from hanging upside down. I’m tired of asking questions and getting vague answers. I close my eyes and rest the last leg of the way to the hospital.
Ryan is going to flip his shit.
The ride over was really unnecessary. All I can think about is how freaked out Ryan must be and what the fuck just happened? Now that I’ve been checked over for seat belt bruises, cuts, and contusions, they rolled me out of the trauma room and into a little nook to wait for Ryan. They are overly crowded and have no space for patients with minor injuries like me. So, I’m sitting on a bed in the hallway, with no privacy whatsoever. I insisted I was fine to be discharged and could Uber home, but they got ahold of Ryan and said he was on his way and to sit tight until he can check me out to drive me home.
I feel a lot better now that I’ve had a bag of fluids in me and my nerves have calmed down. I’m sure I will be sore tomorrow, but for now I’m fine. All of my injuries are just superficial.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Ryan’s face relaxes as soon as he rounds the corner and sees me waiting for him. He rushes the rest of the way down the hall to close the distance between us. He leans over the bed and kisses my forehead like we’ve just been reunited after being apart for years and years.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. And the car…”
“Don’t worry about the car. It’s all replaceable. Tell me you’re really okay.”
“Leylah, Dr. Kent.” The doctor that previously checked me over in the ER interrupts us with my discharge papers, or so I assume, and shakes my hand followed by Ryan’s. He shuffles through his papers and the awkward silence between us stretches on and on. Ryan and I exchange a glance, so I know it’s not just me feeling uncomfortable.
“I’m confused, is something wrong? I’d really just like to get out of here already.” I work in this field. I get it, trust me, I do. But I’m over it and I need my bed before I lose my shit.
Dr. Kent pulls the stool across the hall over to the side of my bed and sits. He crosses something out and makes a note of something else. “Okay. Sorry it took so long. We were waiting on your blood work and urine cultures and no one noted it the first time, but I looked over your chart and since you’re pregnant and there was some blood in your urine, I’m ordering an ultrasound to make sure everything is as it should be internally.”
“Wait, what?” Ryan drops my hand from his and takes the words right out of my mouth. The doctor looks between the two of us and takes his glasses off.
Dr. Kent’s eyebrows inch closer together in confusion the longer we stare at him like the idiots he probably thinks we are. “You didn’t know?”
I pick my jaw up off the floor and shake my head to clarify. “Neither of us did.” For some reason, I start to cry while Ryan just stands there with his mouth hanging open, and the doctor stares back at us as if we’re the shittiest parents on the planet. We’re clearly not jumping for joy with excitement. This probably puts me in the worst mother category.
Dr. Kent has no time for our shit, however, and his show must go on. He clicks his pen and makes more notes. “I ordered the ultrasound. A tech will be down shortly to take you in. I also wrote a prescription for some nausea medicine if you need it until you can get into your OB. Get some rest.” He pats the chart on the side of the bed and wishes us all the luck. I know it’s not personal, but I can’t help but feel otherwise.
“Why are you crying?” Ryan asks as soon as we’re alone again. Or as alone as we can be in this busy hallway.
“I don’t know.”
The look on his face upsets me the most. I di
dn’t think in a million years that I’d be pregnant any time soon again, especially after what his mother told me, let alone find out like this. That look he’s giving me practically confirms he’s having the same thoughts. Ryan and I tried for so long to have a baby; this was not the way I wanted him to know.
The ultrasound tech interrupts what little conversation we get to have. Of course, they come now because any other day they’d take their sweet ass time.
“Leylah?”
I nod.
The tech checks that my ID bracelet matches her information on file for me and pulls a wheelchair up that I don’t need, but it’s hospital policy, and wheels me toward a set of double doors and down another long sterile hallway. This is officially the longest day of my life.
“Alrighty. Put this gown on, please ma’am, and then you can lay up here for me.” The tech that says her name is Lucy, pats her hand on the paper covered bed. She says her instructions robotically like it’s something she’s used to doing twenty thousand times a day, which I’m sure she is but some compassion would be nice. I make a mental note to make sure no matter how shitty of a day I’m having to never treat my own patients like I have been today.
I do as she instructs, with Ryan by my side. He looks like a deer in headlights but I’m right there with you buddy, because there are some skeletons in the closet that are slowly leaking out and not in the way that I thought they would.
