Don't Turn Back (Coming Home Book 1)

by Stephens, Amy

  The next few days go by in a haze. It’s the same routine: I go to work and replace Rebecca each night. She still will not look or speak to me. It’s killing me, this awkward behavior that exists between us. We can’t continue going on like this forever. I still have not seen or heard anything from Brian, either. I wonder where he is staying; I’ve noticed he isn’t coming by the apartment anymore. I’m curious if Rebecca knows of his whereabouts, but I’m also nervous to ask her about it. I think back to the text messages that were mysteriously coming through Brian’s phone and wonder could it have been Rebecca instead of some unknown caller like he led me to believe.

  On Friday morning, my dad calls just as I’m getting home from work. It’s comforting to hear his voice, since I’ve had such a hellish week, but I don’t bother to tell my dad of my troubles. We chat for a few minutes, and then he tells me that he’s called and already made an appointment for me to have my car serviced. My dad is always on top of things like that for me. But great, I would rather crawl under a rock than have to face Brian at work. I think about taking my car somewhere else to avoid him, but I know my dad wouldn’t be happy if he found out. He is a loyal customer to Jared.

  I bite the bullet and get ready to head out for a few errands and my service appointment. I’m so thankful that after tonight’s shift I will be off the next two nights. The anger and frustration has really stressed me out all week, and I haven’t been able to get much rest.

  I pull into the parking lot at the oil lube shop and glance around for Brian’s car. Funny, I don’t see it, so I start to wonder if maybe he’s off for the day. Jared walks out to meet my car, and he recognizes me as I let my window down. “Hi Jennifer. Haven’t seen you in a while. How were your holidays?”

  “Everything was very nice. My parents came home for two weeks and stayed at my brother’s house. It was nice spending time with them.”

  “I sure miss having your dad stop by. He’s always been so meticulous about things, but I love that man. Maybe next time they are passing through for a visit, he could stop by? I would enjoy seeing him again. It was great talking to him on the phone when he called earlier to make your appointment.”

  “I will definitely send him by to see you. He was so persistent about my coming to the shop today. You know him; he follows every service reminder like clockwork. By the way, I didn’t see Brian’s car here. Is he off today?” I try to keep a calm expression on my face as I question Jared about Brian’s whereabouts.

  I can tell by the expression on Jared’s face that I’ve put him on the spot. “Jennifer, Brian doesn’t work here anymore.”

  “What?” I am suddenly taken off guard.

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  There is a burning sensation in my gut, and I think I may be sick.

  “What are you talking about? When did this happen?” For a moment, I think it must have been within the last day or so, because I haven’t noticed Brian being in the apartment like I did towards the beginning of the week.

  “He’s been gone since before Christmas.” Jared hesitates before continuing. “We had an incident happen here at the shop, and I had to make the decision to let him go. It’s a shame because I really liked the guy.”

  “I had no idea, Jared. He didn’t bother to tell me.” I am fighting off the urge to throw up. “Jared, can you point me in the direction of the bathroom please? I’m suddenly not feeling very well.”

  I run from the car and barely make it inside to the courtesy area. Thankfully there was no one occupying the single bathroom. I lock the door behind me, just as everything comes up. I reach over and turn on the water from the sink because I’m embarrassed for anyone to hear me. I have not been able to eat very much this week because of my nerves, so I’m mostly dry heaving. I cough slightly and walk to the sink when I feel it’s safe to leave the toilet.

  I look up in the mirror and barely recognize my own reflection. My face is pale, and my eyes are swollen, thanks to the strain from the vomiting. I splash cold water on my face and pat it dry with a paper towel.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when I open the door and notice the waiting area is empty. Thank goodness. I see a vending machine off to the side and fumble through my purse for some change. I select a Sprite, hoping it will settle my stomach.

  Jared walks in and notices by my appearance that I’m really not feeling well. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. Must be a bug or something.” I tell him, struggling to keep my head up. “Do you mind if I come back next week for my car’s service? I really need to get home and lie down.”

  “Can I call someone to come and get you?” Jared offers.

  “No, I think I can make it home. My apartment is not too far from here. Thank you for asking.”

  “Sure thing. You be careful driving, and get yourself some rest. Oh, and tell Brian I asked about him, will ya’?” Jared definitely seems like a sincere gentleman.

  Right now, I’m completely focused on just getting home. I don’t want to concern myself with Brian and all the lies he’s been coming up with. Now knowing that this has been going on since before Christmas only sickens me more. For weeks, he has had me believing he’s been going to work. How did I never catch on to his lies? And where the hell has he been going since I’m home during the day? I never suspected a thing. How stupid could I be? Is it possible he was with Rebecca?

  I make it inside the apartment just as my stomach starts to churn again.

  Please, I just want to feel better. I plead with myself, knowing that as long as my nerves are bundled in knots, I’m not going to feel any better any time soon.

  I stumble to the bathroom and lose my Sprite. I am so weak right now; it’s times like this I wish Rebecca or Brian were here with me. I don’t like being alone when I’m sick, but right now, I will deal with it simply because the thought of either of them only makes it worse.

  I begin to wonder if maybe I do have a virus, or possibly even food poisoning. I have been so sick this week, more than I can recall in my entire life.

  I wake up just as the light is beginning to darken outside. I force myself to nibble on some crackers, but I’m scared to eat very much of anything, for fear of it coming back up. I feel so bad.

  Around the time I should be getting ready for work, I realize I am simply too weak to even get up to take a shower. I really hate to do this, but there is no way I’m going to be able to make it in tonight. I place the call to my boss and apologize for the late notice. He suggests I drink lots of liquids, because I could be getting dehydrated from all of the vomiting. He also doesn’t give me a hard time about it, I’m thankful for his understanding.

  I try to relax on the couch and prop the pillow up behind me. I glance over at my phone, and it hits me how it has been quiet all week. Other than the phone call from my dad, no one has called or texted all week. I can’t keep going on like this.

  This has been one of the longest weeks ever, since moving in with Jennifer. I remembered to grab my phone charger when I stopped by the apartment earlier this week for a shower. I knew Jennifer would be at work, so I made sure to pick up behind myself, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

  But the phone has been eerily quiet all week. No texts, no calls, nothing from her.

  I sit in the parking lot of the movie theater. I couldn’t decide on a movie to see, so I decided to take a nap instead. I’m literally counting change now, and I’ve got to decide soon if I’m going to beg Jennifer for a chance to explain things, or give up on us and move on. I’m not going to get much further since I’m really broke now.

  The nine o’clock movie lets out, and I am awakened by the variety of noises outside my car. Teenage kids are walking through the parking lot to meet their parents, couples are holding hands, and groups of friends are laughing and talking on their cell phones. I miss talking with Jennifer so much.

  I charged my phone earlier today at the library, and glancing down, I see it still has nearly a full battery. I click one of
my favorite games, music playing as the game downloads. I’ve thought many times this week about Jennifer, how I would give anything to hear from her. Even if nothing else but an angry text or call, just some kind of communication from her would be welcomed.

  And just like some kind of magic, I see the notification light up on my phone alerting me of an incoming text. A text from, none other, than Jennifer.

  Jennifer: Are you able to help me?

  What kind of a weird text is that? While I want to be relieved to finally have a message from her, I’m a little hesitant to reply. I want nothing more than to hear her voice, but I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with the consequences that lay ahead. Right now, I’m concerned by this question from her.

  Brian: Yes, baby. Are you in trouble? Do I need to come to the hotel?

  Almost instantly, she replies back.

  Jennifer: I’m very sick. Can’t keep anything down. Severe cramps. Need to go to ER.

  Brian: Are you home?

  Jennifer: Yes

  Brian: Be right there.

  I’m I pulling from the theater parking lot and driving straight to the apartment before the final text goes through. I park and shut the car off, making a dash down the hallway. The door is unlocked. I knock first anyway, and then step inside. I don’t know what I’m expecting to see, but the sight of Jennifer curled up in a fetal position on the couch, with a washcloth across her forehead, alarms me.

  I kneel down next to her, taking her hand in mine. “Baby, are you okay? What’s going on?” I gently brush her hair back from her face and see just how pale her skin coloring is.

  “I don’t know. I can’t keep anything down, and I’m severely cramping,” She mumbles, and I’m barely able to make out her words.

  “How long have you been this way?”

  “I’ve felt ill all week, but I’ve been throwing up literally all day long. I think I’m getting dehydrated. The stomach cramps just started earlier tonight.” Her face contorts from the pain.

  I attempt to help her sit up, and offer my hand for assistance. Surprisingly, she takes it. “I’m going to grab your coat for you and some shoes. Is there anything else you need?” I hate these are the circumstances that brought us together again, but I’m just thankful to be able to help her.

  “Just my purse. All my insurance information is inside.” She sounds so pitiful. “Thank you.”

  Since she messaged me for help, I’m assuming she hasn’t yet resolved things with her best friend. Right now, I don’t want to mention that dreadful night. I just want to get her to the hospital.

  I put my hand around her middle and assist her with walking to the door. She is so weak; it takes all of her energy to move. We make it to her car, and she hands me the keys to drive. I don’t bother asking for directions to the hospital, since I already know it’s location, and she doesn’t question how I came to know this information.

  I pull into a spot near the emergency room entrance. Walking over to open the car door for her, I help ease her from the seat. She’s so frail looking, I almost want to pick her up and carry her. But I don’t.

  We walk to the front admittance desk, and I sign her name on the clipboard. A female nurse glances at Jennifer’s name and calls her to a room off to the side.

  “Do you want me to help you?” I ask her, not wanting to upset her if she doesn’t want my assistance.

  “Please.” It pains me seeing her so sick and weak.

  We walk to the room, and I pull out the chair for her to get comfortable. The nurse begins asking her questions, first personal, then about her symptoms. I wish she had contacted me sooner so we could have seen a doctor before getting to this point. Jennifer pulls her insurance card and ID from her purse and the nurse leaves for a moment to make copies.

  “Baby, they are going to find out what’s wrong. The doctors here are going to help you feel better.” I rub her hand and try to reassure her as best I can.

  She rests her head on the wall behind the chair and closes her eyes. The nurse returns and gives a small plastic bottle to Jennifer, instructing her to provide a urine sample for tests.

  “Are you able to do this by yourself or do you need some assistance?” The nurse asks.

  “I think I can do it.” Jennifer stands and slowly walks to the restroom that’s connected to this office.

  The nurse questions what my relation is to Jennifer, and without hesitation, I tell her I’m her boyfriend, omitting our recent separation.

  Jennifer finally returns, and the nurse takes her vitals and asks her to step onto the scale.

  “Okay, I’m going to get this specimen over to the lab and the doctor will be with you shortly. Go ahead and change into the gown that’s on the counter.” The nurse points to the gown and closes the door behind her.

  “I’m just going to step out in the hallway while you change, unless you need my help.” I tell her, not wanting to make her feel awkward.

  “Thank you.”

  I give her a few minutes then crack open the door. She’s in the bed now with a sheet draped over her. I can tell she is cold.

  “I’m so sorry you feel bad. They are going to find out what’s wrong and get you better.”

  She closes her eyes and for a moment; I think she has drifted off to sleep. Minutes pass and I begin to wonder if the doctor is ever going to come. I pull out my phone and turn the volume down while I play a game, hoping to occupy my mind.

  Nearly an hour later, there is a light knock on the door. An older, white-haired man wearing a white coat with a stethoscope draped across his shoulders walks in. Jennifer awakens and attempts to sit up. As he approaches her bed, he extends his hand. “Hi Jennifer, I’m Dr. Porter. What seems to be troubling you?”

  Jennifer tells the same story to the doctor that she already told the nurse. I am growing angry at myself for not contacting her sooner.

  The doctor glances over some notations made on her chart. “We have the results from the lab, and nothing looks abnormal. Your blood work doesn’t indicate any infections, and your counts are where they should be. If I had to guess, I would say you’ve probably gotten a twenty-four hour bug. Have you had this trouble with morning sickness for long?”

  Uhh, what? Did I just hear this man correctly? Did he just say morning sickness?

  I suddenly want to jump from my chair and leave the room. Morning sickness? How could she not have told me? This can’t be happening. There is no way she can be pregnant. Almost like a slap to my face, I think back to the few nights we had sex and neither of us had bothered to use protection. How could we have been so careless? Yes, we did discuss it afterwards, but I never expected this to happen. When was she planning to tell me?

  I look over to her, so helpless on the hospital bed. She is silent. Shocked.

  “Ms. Davis? Are you okay?” The doctor questions her.

  “Did you say morning sickness?” Her face looks even paler now than when we first arrived at the hospital, if that’s even possible.

  I realize by her blank stare that this is news to her as well. While I’m still upset by hearing the news for the first time, I realize she must be even more shocked. She looks over at me and quickly looks away as though she is embarrassed. I don’t know what to say or do.

  “I’m going to give you something to help with the nausea. If this is a stomach bug, it should help with your throwing up, too. You are on the borderline of dehydration, so please drink plenty of fluids, especially those containing electrolytes. Once you feel like it, I would recommend something light for your stomach, such as some clear broth and crackers to help regain your strength. I’m judging by your expression the pregnancy is news to you. If you need a recommendation for an obstetrician, my nurse can help with that. But you do need to see one as soon as possible. They can prescribe something for you to help with the sickness if this continues.” The doctor stands and shakes her hand and mine.

  “Thank you doctor.” I don’t really know much else to say to him.

  �
��If you don’t have any questions for me, I’ll give you two a moment. I’ll send my nurse in with your shot and you can be on your way.”

  The doctor shuts the door behind him, the sound echoing in the silence that has taken over the room. I really don’t know what to say.

  Suddenly, Jennifer reaches to cover her face with her hands. I can see she is about to become upset. I stand up to walk to her side just as she immediately bursts into tears. The only thing I know to do is wrap my arms around her, and just hold her. But she senses my nearness and cuts her eyes over to me, as if to indicate I need not come any closer to her. The frustration between us just keeps building.

  “Baby, I don’t know what to say.” These are the only words that I can manage.

  When she pulls her hands away, her face is drenched in tears. Her eyes are red, and I wish I knew something to say or do to comfort her. My first reaction is to punch the wall, mad at myself for being so irresponsible, but I remain calm for her sake and mine. I don’t need to cause a scene, especially here at the hospital, or to upset her more.

  Through her sobs, she manages to say, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  I stand there helplessly, as close as I possibly can, without upsetting her further. I do all I can to choke back my own tears. I don’t want her to see me cry. There is a knock on the door, and the nurse walks in holding a shot and the release papers for Jennifer.

  “Here you go. This is going to sting a little, but it should start to help you feel better right away. Make sure you get plenty of rest and drink lots of fluids. By the way, congratulations to you both.” The nurse has no idea about the impact that the news is having on us right now. She sees Jennifer’s tears, but mistakes them for tears of happiness instead of tears of sadness that now plague her body.

  When the nurse leaves, I step out into the hallway to allow Jennifer a chance to change into her regular clothes, and to have a moment to herself. I walk out to the lobby, and it feels like everyone is staring at me, like they somehow all know how careless I’ve been. I know this is just my own imagination, but this is, by far, the biggest obstacle I have ever had to face. Nothing in my past comes close to what I’m staring at now.