by Vivian Wood
Harper slid on her gym shoes and grabbed her purse just as P texted her. Downstairs.
“What are you wearing?” she asked as he jumped out of the Explorer and helped her into the passenger seat.
“I like to call it club leather meets wayward dominatrix with a heart of gold. Nailed it?” he asked.
She eyed him in his studded leather chaps with the two-foot fringe and snug leather vest. “The leather pageboy hat really ties it all together,” she said.
“Oh, good! I thought that might be too much,” he said as they pulled away from the building. “So, tell me more. What’s wrong, exactly?”
“It’s just really intense pain. Mostly in my abdomen now. It comes in spurts, though.”
“Maybe it’s gas,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“What! Pregnant women are gassy. At least my sister was. So, what’s the story when we get there? Am I supposed to be your black, fabulous sugar daddy turned baby daddy or what?”
“Um, if they ask, which I don’t think they will, let’s just go with the truth.”
“That I’m your black, fabulous bestie?”
“Yeah. Let’s go with that.”
Harper was glad to let P tell her about his night at the warehouse party. It distracted her briefly from the pain—and the idea that there was something wrong with the baby. The way the pain came, it felt how some women described labor. But babies didn’t come this early, did they? She didn’t know.
P pulled up to the entrance to the ER and raced around to get her door. “You can’t park here!” she said.
“Shut up. I’m walking you in, then I’ll go move it.”
“P?” she asked, and stopped. “What if … what if something’s wrong with the baby?” Tears trembled in her eyes.
“Nothing’s wrong with the baby.”
“You don’t know,” she said, and the tears started to pour.
“Come on,” he said and began to lead her into the hospital. It was only then that she noticed he wore nothing beneath his assless chaps.
“Can I … help you?” the receptionist asked. Even through Harper’s tears, she could tell the woman did a commendable job of not reacting to P’s appearance.
“My friend is pregnant. It’s her first trimester. She’s in a lot of pain, in her stomach.”
She was happy to let P take the lead as she tried to stuff the tears down her throat. The nurse on duty leaned forward and looked at her. “What’s the pain on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain you’ve ever known.”
“I don’t—Jesus,” Harper said as a fresh wave came over her. She spun away from P and vomited into the small trash bin. It was mostly liquid, but as she opened her eyes she realized there was no liner in the trash and it was mesh.
“I’ll take her from here,” the nurse said. She gestured for two other nurses in scrubs, and was eased into a wheelchair.
“I’ll be right here!” P called.
It was like her dream, with the fluorescent lights overhead. Only this time, she was in a wheelchair and not a gurney. “It’s okay if I can’t have anesthesia,” she said. She was partially aware that she wasn’t making sense.
“Let’s have the doctor take a look at you before we talk about next steps,” one of the nurses said gently.
She was wheeled into a beige, boring, but sterile room. Unlike the dream, there were no rusty hedge trimmers on the counter. Just boxes of gloves and glass jars with tongue depressors and cotton balls.
“Harper? I’m Dr. Fredette.” The doctor looked too young to work in a hospital, and she’d appeared too quickly. Where was the long wait?
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked. The room was too bright, too clean.
“That’s what we’re going to find out. Don’t you worry, we’re going to take good care of you. Are you dizzy? Can you stand?”
“Yeah, no, I’m not dizzy. I can stand.”
“Can you put this gown on for me? Open in the back. I’ll just step outside for a minute, okay?”
“Okay.” When the doctor closed the door, Harper stood and stripped off the tank top and pajamas. It was cold in the exam room and the thin gown didn’t provide any warmth. Goosebumps popped up on her flesh and the sound of the paper that crinkled beneath her as she sat on the exam table was too loud.
Harper dug through her purse for her phone. It was dead. Fuck. I must have not plugged it in all the way.
She tried not to cry as she waited for the doctor to return. I should have told Sean, she thought. Now he’ll wake up to that note, I’ll be gone, and he won’t have any idea what happened. I didn’t even tell him which hospital.
Finally, the knock came. “Alright, let’s take a look and see what we can find out,” the doctor said.
23
Sean
Sean rolled over onto his back and pressed his palms into his eyes. The phone vibrated incessantly on his bedside table. It was still mostly dark outside. It better be a goddamned emergency, whoever it is, he thought to himself. As he reached for the phone, he sensed a vast openness next to him. Where’s Harper? He was instantly awake.
He didn’t recognize the number, but scrambled to answer it. “Hello?” he asked.
“Sean? It’s P, Harper’s friend.”
“Are you with her?” he asked. “Where are you? What time is it?” Before P could answer, he lowered the phone to check the time. Four o’clock in the morning.
“She’s okay,” P said. “At least, the last I was told. “I took her to Cedars-Sinai.”
“You took her? When? We were asleep—”
“She called me a couple of hours ago to come pick her up.”
“What? Why did she call you? She was right here—”
“Look, I don’t really know about that. I told her to wake you up, I told her to tell you, but you know how she can be. She told me she left you a note.”
“A note? Why—what happened? What’s wrong?” Sean bolted from bed and began to pull on a pair of jeans in the dark, the phone cradled precariously under his chin.
“I haven’t been told much, and I won’t be since I’m not family. But she’s fine, and from what I understand the baby is fine. At least for now, but it’s something to do with the pregnancy.”
“You know about the baby?” Sean stopped his struggle with the balled-up jeans and stood still.
“I think I’m the only one she told besides you,” P said gently. “I don’t want to come down on you right now, and I know Harper’s told me you’ve been doing a lot better with the whole normie thing of monogamy or whatever, but you need to figure your shit out.”
“I’m trying,” Sean said. He put down the phone briefly to pull on a t-shirt.
“ … how rare what you’ve got it? She shouldn’t have to feel like she needs to call me in a crisis. You need to man up and be whatever she needs so she feels safe with you.”
“I know, I know,” Sean said. “I’m going to lose you in the stairwell. I’m coming now.”
“Yeah, well,” P said with a huff in his voice. “I’ll be here.”
Sean raced through the night. As he whipped into the parking lot, the morning sun had just started to struggle up the horizon. He saw P as soon as he walked in, draped in a black leather ensemble with his chest drenched in glitter. “Don’t ask,” P said, as he stood up to give Sean a brief hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Are … one of you the father?” Sean turned around to see a doctor with dark circles under his eyes. His white coat was rumpled and he gripped a clipboard like it could save him.
P looked at Sean. “Oh. That’s me, I am,” he said. That would take some getting used to. The father.
“Harper’s okay,” the doctor said. “Though still a bit tired and confused from the pain medication.”
“And the baby?”
“The fetus is viable,” the doctor said as he glanced at his chart. “But Harper’s had a placental abruption, which caused some internal bleeding. There was also some blood in her fl
uids.”
Sean’s breath was shaky. “Can I see her?”
“Of course. Just bear in mind that stress is the worst thing for her right now. Follow me.”
P gave his forearm a squeeze as Sean started to trail after the doctor. “I’ll be right here,” he said. “Apparently I’m supposed to stay seated. My outfit seems to have offended some people.”
The doctor held back a thin blue curtain for Sean like he was about to present him with a new car or an oversized check. Harper was tucked into the bed, her right arm and hand set up with IVs. She looked tiny, like a child.
“Harper?” he asked quietly, and her eyes fluttered open.
“Sean? I’m so sorry,” she said. Her voice was hoarse and choked with tears.
He rushed to her side and did his best to carefully hug her. With his face buried into her neck, he felt the sting of tears threaten to fall. Seeing her like that was a blunt reminder of all he had to lose. “Don’t be sorry,” he whispered. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry, I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“No,” she said, her voice tight. “I thought I could save the baby.”
“You did,” he said. “You did save the baby. The baby’s fine.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I thought it wasn’t too late. That, you know, the rehab would work. I could fix myself—”
Sean leaned up and brushed a stray lock of fiery hair from her face. “I just talked to the doctor,” he said. “He says the baby’s hanging in there. You did good, you did the right thing.”
“No,” she said with a stubborn shake of her head. “I don’t even know if you want the baby,” she said. A fresh flood of tears started to trickle down her face. “And I don’t blame you,” she said. “It’s not your fault. I go and bombard you with this news, you don’t get a say in it. And it’s not like we were together together or anything. I’m so fucking stupid—”
“Hey,” he said as he tucked the hair behind her ear. “It’s okay. Of course I want the baby. It’s a piece of you, of course I want it.” He kissed her softly and tasted the salt on her lips. “I’ll take you in any form I can get.”
Harper’s body began to rock with the sobs, but this time she squeezed him back.
A nurse came in, plump with brown skin that looked soft as whipped butter. “You must be the father,” she said with a warm smile. “Harper’s a trooper. I just need to change up her pain meds, I won’t be a minute,” she said.
Harper let out a groan. “They make me too tired,” she protested, though she knew it was useless.
“You need your sleep. That’s what will make you stronger,” the nurse said.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Harper said.
“It doesn’t hurt because you’re on pain meds,” the nurse said with a small laugh. “In LA, let me tell you, this is a rarity. Someone comes into the ER in the middle of the night and doesn’t want pain meds. That’s what a lot of people come in here for.”
Sean watched the nurse deftly swap out one of the bags. A fresh, strong fluid started to make its way into Harper’s arm.
“It’s going to make me fall asleep,” Harper said apologetically to Sean.
“It’s okay, you go ahead and sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up. P’s here, too, but they’re making him wait up front.”
He thought Harper nodded, but she fell asleep so quickly he couldn’t tell.
“Sorry,” the nurse said. “She’ll be much better when she wakes up after this dose, though.”
“It’s alright. Can I stay in here while she sleeps?”
“Sure, but it might be quite awhile,” the nurse said. “Consider the chair yours.”
He slumped into a hard, straight-backed chair and watched Harper sleep. Sean matched her deep breaths with his. His head spun. The father. He’d never considered being a father before. But he had to admit, a little version of Harper could never be a bad thing. A little boy or girl with a head of fire and those deep eyes of hers that spilled over with curiosity.
Sean took in her sleeping form and reached out to touch her abdomen. It was still flat. He could tell even below the thin hospital blankets. It was their baby in there, strong as she was, whether he was ready for it or not.
He closed his eyes and let the darkness encircle him. The beeps from the monitors got louder and the scent that all hospitals had poured into him. Please God, let her be okay. Let the baby be okay. Please, God.
Sean couldn’t remember the last time he’d prayed, unless he counted the prayers in his meetings with Joon-ki. But he was on autopilot with those, and had never really embraced the whole higher power aspect of Alcoholics Anonymous. Part of him felt like a fake for asking God, or whatever might be out there, for help now. But if not now, when?
Please, God, if you’re out there … I know I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve Harper, or the baby, or anything else good. But she doesn’t deserve this either. Please just let them be okay. Just let everything be okay.
Harper murmured in her sleep and his eyes opened. The brightness of the hospital room was nearly blinding. “It’ll be okay,” he told her quietly. “Don’t worry about anything. You and the baby will be okay. We’ll all be alright.”
She made a sound that he thought was contentment and he closed his eyes again. I know all the steps, all the stages. I know this is bargaining, and I know you get it all the time. But this is different, because this isn’t about me. It’s about Harper and the baby. Please, just let them be alright.
Sean listened to the footsteps that passed down the hall, the squeak of rubber soles on the tile floor polished to a dull shine. He felt the buckle of his jeans press into his abdomen, and was glad for the physical reminder of being in the world. But mostly, he listened to the hum and clicks of Harper’s monitors and willed them to remain steady.
24
Harper
Harper blinked her eyes open, but squinted against the fluorescence that shone in from the hallway. She felt the stiff, starched sheet over her and let out a small groan. The hospital. You’re in the hospital, she reminded herself. Fuck, that’s right. Sean would be pissed as hell, worried, or both by now and there was no way to get ahold of him.
She could feel drugs as they coursed through her system and could tell the fatigue she felt was enforced. Still, as she struggled to sit up and felt the pinch of IVs in her skin, she let out a gasp as she looked down her body. The otherwise bright white sheets were stained with a pool of blood that looked almost fake.
A scream built up in her throat. It sounded like an animal, but she couldn’t stop. A nurse in scrubs with a print of teddy bears burst into the room with a doctor on her heels. “Calm down,” the nurse repeated. “Calm down, we need to get the ultrasound set up to see what’s going on here.”
“The baby,” she screamed. “It’s the baby.”
The nurse prepped the machine that had been pushed into the corner of the room and pulled the soiled blanket and sheet off of Harper with a snap. Cold air rushed over her skin, and she realized her legs were covered in the congealed, sticky redness. When the nurse pushed up her gown and began to smear the jelly across her stomach, Harper was briefly embarrassed of the underwear she wore. The lace trim was worn out. “Always wear good, clean underwear in case you’re hospitalized,” her mother had always said.
The doctor took the little handheld element that looked like the scanners at department stores. He pressed firmly into her abdomen while he kept an eye on the screen. The same thing had happened when she was admitted, and Harper hadn’t been able to see much on the grainy screen then either.
“Is the baby okay?” she asked.
“Please keep still,” the nurse said. Her voice was kind but firm.
“Is the baby okay?” Harper asked again.
The doctor gave a slight shake of his head. “I can’t seem to find the fetus …”
Harper let out a cry that sounded even to her like prey that had been shot in the dark. Sean walked
through the door, two coffee cups in hand along with a heavy paper bag of muffins. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” Harper choked out. “The baby … they can’t find the baby.”
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. He looked briefly at Harper, then at Sean. “Sometimes these things happen.” He looked at his pager. “It was the first trimester, and that time can be quite delicate—”
“It was me,” Harper said. “I did it. Or didn’t,” she corrected. The tears had turned silent, a quiet faucet she couldn’t turn off. “The baby couldn’t stay because of me.”
“I’ll let Nurse Connie clean you up,” the doctor said. “And I’ll be back in a little while to discuss your options.”
“Options?”
“It was the first trimester and you lost quite a bit of blood, but it wasn’t a traditional miscarriage,” he said. “Most of the time, I recommend a D and C to ensure all the waste is purged from the body.”
Harper flinched at the word. Purged. She’d never be able to escape it. “No,” she said vehemently as she started to shake her head. “I’m not doing that. I want a second opinion. The baby was just here—”
“I’m sorry,” the nurse said as she squeezed Harper’s hand. “It’s gone.” Sean started to move toward her, but the nurse stopped him with a single look. “You can sit in the chair,” the nurse said, “out of the way.”
“You don’t know!” Harper screamed at the nurse, the doctor, Sean, all of them. “Try it again.”
“Honey, I’m sorry,” the nurse said. The doctor was silent, but made small scratches on the chart that hung from the foot of Harper’s bed.
“You’re sorry?” Harper asked. Hysteria mixed with a macabre laugh in her voice. “You’re sorry? What are you sorry for? What did you do?”
“You’re young,” the nurse said. “You can try again.”
“I wasn’t fucking trying the first time!” Harper said. “I don’t want another baby, I want this baby. You don’t fucking get it, it was my only chance—”
