by Lucia Franco
"Sophia?" I said, trying to sit up.
Tears filled my eyes as bile rose to my throat. My eyes widened in alarm. I felt like I was electrocuted. I looked down to find my right arm in a sling. What the hell happened to me?
Another memory filled my head. Dad had twisted my arm in anger. Was it broken?
A sharp pain sliced through my chest and I covered my mouth with my free hand. Sophia moved into action like she knew what was going to happen next. She jumped up from the chair and grabbed a trash can, holding it for me just in time.
After a few more embarrassing rounds of retching, Sophia took the can from me and walked toward the bathroom. She returned with a plastic cup of water.
"Thank you," I said as she handed it to me. Shit. My throat was raw.
Our gazes met. Her green eyes were bloodshot as they beheld mine. The look in them was both relieved and terrified to see me. I wasn't sure what she knew, or how much she knew, but she seemed so sad, and that upset me.
I averted my gaze and looked down. There was an IV inserted and taped down to the top of my free hand. The inside of my elbow was stressed with shades of blue from injections I didn't recall having.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Sophia take a step.
"Wait," I choked out and she stopped. I had a feeling she was going to get my dad. I wasn’t ready for him.
"What's wrong?"
I shook my head, the pain making it unbearable to speak. My arm wasn't in a cast, so it must not be broken. But I prayed my dad hadn’t fractured it either.
"How did I get here?" I asked, my throat still scratchy. Maybe I should've asked when I had gotten here.
I took a small sip of water and handed her back the cup. The last thing I wanted to do was throw up again.
Sophia placed it on the tray at the foot of the bed. Her brows furrowed. "You don't remember?"
I blinked. "I just remember Dad…" I hesitated, and her lips flattened as she gave me an empathetic look.
"Your father fighting with Konstantin?"
My teeth dug into my bottom lip. I glanced away, nodding subtly. "How long have I been here?"
"Two days."
My brows shot up and I looked back at her. "Two days?" I repeated. "How?"
Sophia took a small step toward me. She fidgeted with her fingers. The chipped paint on her nails caught my attention. I could tell she was being cautious. Worry prickled my arms. The more the anxiety grew inside me waiting for her answer, the faster the machine behind me beeped.
I'd been asleep for two days. Two whole days.
"I think I should go get your father for you, then you guys can talk."
"Wait. Why are you here?"
She tensed and I instantly felt guilty for my choice of words. I didn't mean to blurt it out and make her feel bad, but I didn't understand what was going on either.
Where was Kova?
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," I said. "I'm just confused. That's all."
"I can imagine you are." I looked at her, waiting for an answer. "Your father and I…well…we had seen each other earlier in the day." Her voice was soft. "He called me when you were taken in the ambulance. I met him here and have been here ever since."
My frown deepened.
"You were unconscious and bleeding. Frank didn’t know if you'd hit your head or where the blood was coming from. He said he tried to wake you up and when he couldn't…" Her voice trailed off, too stricken with emotion to finish. "Well, you know the rest."
Her words replayed in my head. My chest rose higher and faster. My dad hadn’t known where the blood came from?
I glanced down at my arms. White gauze bandages were wrapped in various places, including around my arm in the sling. They probably covered injuries I’d sustained when I crashed into the glass table and took down the décor with me. I remembered hitting my head. I remembered feeling warm blood pool around me. At the time, I'd assumed it was from the shards of glass. Now, I wasn't so sure. There had been too much blood.
Tears blurred my eyes and my jaw quivered. Gripping the starched white bed sheets in my hand, I trembled as I fought with myself. I didn't want to pull the sheet back and see blood. If I did, then that would confirm my worst nightmare and I’d know the truth of what had really caused the bleeding.
Sophia walked over to me and placed her hand over mine. I swallowed hard and looked up at her. I could see the indecision in her eyes and how this was the last thing she wanted for me. I could tell she really wanted to help me but was hesitant as to how. What role in my life would she play?
My breathing grew ragged as I fisted the blanket tighter. I didn't have to ask, and she didn't have to answer. It was a given that if she was here, then Dad had told her everything. My chest strained with raw emotion as the look in my birth mother’s eyes confirmed my fear. Her face slowly fell.
Silent tears streamed down my cheeks as the truth set in. Sophia's gaze filled with sympathy. I wanted her to hug me, to tell me everything would be okay. I shouldn't feel a sense of loss, and I shouldn't be upset since this is essentially what I wanted.
But I was, and I did.
I'd had a miscarriage. I'd lost my baby.
I didn’t need anyone to confirm it for me. I felt it.
Placing a hand over my stomach, I closed my eyes and tried to feel for something, a signal I was wrong and just being paranoid. There was nothing. Had I felt one before?
I didn't want to answer that.
While I may not have intended to have the baby initially, up until I walked into a clinic and had the procedure done, the choice was not final and still mine to make. Mine to keep a child, mine to say goodbye to when I was ready. Then there was Kova's choice too.
But instead this was what I got—my karma. My punishment for wanting an abortion was not being allowed the opportunity to say goodbye.
Two
My baby was gone.
I may not have been ready to be a mother, but that didn't lessen the loss for me.
I guess history does repeat itself. I had a child taken against my will, and so had Sophia.
Warm tears blurred my vision. I rolled my lips between my teeth and bit down, fighting the emotion. Sophia took a seat at the edge of the bed. She was on the verge of tears too. My heart felt so damn empty as my world crumbled around me.
Without thinking, I leaned into Sophia's shoulder and rested my head on her. She turned to look at me. I needed someone who wouldn't judge me, but instead help me carry this burden.
She embraced me with open arms, and I closed my eyes. For a split second, it almost felt like this was what she’d wanted, for me to come to her. Her hand ran down my hair in a maternal fashion and I sniffled, bringing her close to me.
"Your dad really wants to see you, Adrianna," she said, her voice soothing. "He's worried."
I hiccupped and pulled away, suddenly feeling weird. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Please don't apologize."
"I’m sure he's—"
The door to my hospital room opened and Dad waltzed in. He found me in a seated position and halted, his brown eyes widening. My heart dropped into the knotted mess in my stomach. Considering how we’d left off, I was expecting the worst.
"Adrianna!" he cried out.
My lips parted as he rushed toward me. I wanted to throw my arm around him and tell him I was sorry and that I never meant to upset him. The last thing I wanted was to drive a wedge between us.
Reaching my bedside, Dad put his arms around my body and hugged me like he never had before. An acute shooting pain like a bullet streaking through fire ricocheted through the length of my suspended arm. I gasped in agony, feeling instantly lightheaded from the vicious ache pulsating through my veins.
Dad pulled away and looked down at me as I clutched my arm in the sling. He visibly paled. "Did I hurt you?"
A whimper escaped my cracked lips. I hugged myself to hold in the pain as he cupped his mouth, his eyes filling with regret.
"What
happened to my arm?"
My breathing grew dramatically dense, my chest rising and falling at an amplitude that was borderline heart attack inducing. If I couldn't move my arm, how was I going to do gymnastics? Looking into my dad's guilt-ridden eyes, I softly pleaded, "Tell me, please."
I could compete with kidney disease. I could compete while pregnant. I could compete with an Achilles injury. But I couldn't compete with an arm that felt broken.
"Your elbow is dislocated." Shame colored his cheeks. "You're going to have to wear that sling for a while. In a few days you can begin working on little exercise movements to get you back up and running. The doctor said it could take four to six weeks to heal completely."
Four to six weeks? I shrunk back. "I have the biggest competition of my life in ten days. I'll take it easy today and tomorrow, and maybe the day after, but I have to be able to regain movement quicker than that in order to compete."
Dad stared at me like I'd grown two heads. His challenging gaze made me feel defensive. My elbow was dislocated because of him.
"You're going to be in excruciating pain, Adrianna," he said. "It's going to be next to impossible to practice so soon."
"I'm sure it's nothing I haven't experienced already."
"You're going to be on bed rest regardless," he countered.
"Trust me, I can handle it. If I'm brushing up against death’s door with stage four kidney disease, I can handle a dislocated elbow."
Dad’s mouth set into a grim line. "Even so, I can't imagine you're going to be able to practice for a couple weeks, at the very earliest."
My heart sank into my gut. A couple of weeks before I could begin practicing again. No. Not possible. I didn’t have fourteen days to spare. I would take a few days off, then start with a day or two of light stretches. Give myself five days total, then after that, all bets were off the table and I was going full steam ahead.
"Other than your elbow, how are you feeling?" Dad tried to change the subject.
How was I feeling? Angry. Hurt. Lost. Empty and totally gutted. I wanted to riot in the streets and then cry alone in my bed. There was a lot to talk about and I wasn't sure where to start or how he was going to react.
"I've been better."
Dad studied me, his eyes flickering through an array of emotions from love to disgust. This was as uncomfortable for him as it was for me.
"I think we need to talk about the extent of your injuries right now and the type of recovery you will be going through."
I swallowed hard. "Okay."
Dad pulled up a chair to my bedside. I glanced toward Sophia standing by herself near the window watching me.
"Aside from the dislocation, and some small cuts and scratches, you have a concussion." He clenched his eyes shut. "Adrianna, you will take the proper time to recover from that, which is around three to five days, and no sooner." Dad lowered his voice to a warning. "I will not take no for an answer."
"I'll take a few days for my head and elbow. I can't really miss more practice time than that."
I knew not to be too defiant when I was still very much in the wrong. I could work through pain, but a concussion was serious. I didn't have a death wish, despite everything.
Dad remained quiet for a long minute, which did nothing to ease the anxiety mounting in my veins. He exhaled a weary huff and leveled a stare at me that made my stomach twist.
"Adrianna," he said, and I knew what was coming next. "You'll be coming home with me."
I didn't respond.
"You'll get the proper rest and recovery there where I can watch over you."
I had no leg to stand on to defend my actions, but this wasn't just any situation where I was caught red-handed and had to pay the price. There were too many separate lives involved that could be ruined if one wrong thing was said. This was entirely different, and I was sure none of us knew what to do next.
"No, Dad, I'm not." His eyes rounded. I spoke low and slow, making sure I made my case clear despite my shaky voice. "I have the Olympic Trials in less than two weeks. I'm not going home. I'm staying here and I'm preparing for it. I didn't come this far just to walk away because of a little elbow issue."
He looked right through me. "I've already made arrangements to have the condo cleaned out and your car returned home. Once you’re discharged, you're coming back to Savannah with me. End of discussion."
My throat was tight, I could barely swallow. I'd resent him for the rest of my life if he made me go home now and forfeit a once-in-a-lifetime chance at the Olympic Games. My pulse was pounding so hard it was going to explode. I didn't have much to barter with, so I had to play my cards right. I couldn't let him take this away from me.
"Do you want me to have a personal bodyguard to watche over me and takes me to and from practice? Live with me? I'll do that. Anything you want. But I am staying here and I am going to practice." When he didn't say anything and continued to stare right through me, my jaw began to wobble in despair. "Can you please at least consider the consequences after this competition? We're talking about the Olympic Trials, Dad. Let that sink in for a second."
I began to feel frantic. There was an underlying tremble in the pads of my fingers. Didn't he understand how huge this was? That every single practice mattered?
Dad's silence simmered like little bubbles of tension in the air. He let out an unnerving huff. His eyes hardened, even though I saw the empathy in them.
"Imagine my shock when that— When he—" Dad’s body trembled. "When I learned you were pregnant. Then we get here and the doctor tells me you had a miscarriage and would need to have a procedure done." My cheeks flushed and I looked down in embarrassment. "Do you know they had to use some type of vacuum device to get the baby out?" He paused until I looked back up at him. "And you want to tell me what to do? That's not how it works in the real world, Adrianna."
I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the warm tears fall down my cheeks. My lips were firmly sealed together as I silently cried to myself.
A fucking vacuum? The visual made me nauseous. I hadn't known that was how an abortion was done. Not that it mattered now. I knew in my heart I'd had a miscarriage before he’d confirmed it. But hearing it from my father first and in such a way broke me. There was no compassion. Just stone-cold truth that seeped into my bones like black tar and embedded into me forever.
"Was it his?"
No. Why'd he have to ask that?
I squeezed my eyes tighter, tears filling them once again. The machine spiked behind me.
"Was the baby Konstantin's?"
I pressed my lips together and my cheeks flushed. There was no way I would answer that question honestly.
"I'm going to ask you one last time." Dad’s voice was controlled and quiet, alarming. "Was the baby his?"
Holding my breath, I exhaled through my nose and shook my head.
Three
I knew how it looked.
And I knew what Dad was thinking.
I denied the obvious truth, which made me look foolish.
A white lie never wears well.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Dad turn his head to look away. I probably disgusted him and that made me so sad inside, but I couldn't tell him it was Kova's baby. I never would.
"You’re barely eighteen and you had a miscarriage."
"It wasn't his," I said low, my voice cracking. I'd rather him think I’d been with more than one person than to know the baby was Kova's.
Dad sniffled and I popped my head up to glance in his direction. Lines pulled tight around his eyes and his jaw subtly shook. I felt his despair a mile away, and a small breath hitched in my throat. My gaze shifted to Sophia, who was watching him with sadness. My shoulders sagged. It broke my heart to see how many people I’d hurt with my lies.
I looked away, unable to handle any more added heartache.
"So that's the reason you'll be coming back. You were heavily sedated and had a minor procedure on top of your concussion. You have to let your body r
est."
"You can’t force me to go home."
Dad whipped his head toward me. His eyes were as large as I was sure mine were. A mocking laugh bellowed from his chest. "Yeah? And how will you live? What money and connections do you have, Adrianna? Everything you have is because of me."
I sat up a little taller, humiliation burning under my skin. "I'll take the prize money and forfeit competing in college. I can support myself on that." I paused, hoping to seal the threat. "It's not like I'll be in any condition to compete anyway, not when I'm close to kidney failure as it is. I'll even sell my car if I have to."
Dad squinted his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Fifty thousand dollars isn't enough to pay for dialysis and a transplant surgery. Now you sold your car but you can't get to treatment. What are you going to do?"
I ground my molars together, fighting back the angry tears. I didn't have anything else to barter with and he knew that.
Dad's gaze didn't waver. How could he hold my illness over my head? I was scared it would consume me before I had the chance to live and he knew that. It hurt almost as much as the vacuum comment he made.
"Don't test me, Adrianna. I have years of experience under my belt that you can't compete against."
"I'll figure it out."
He shook his head. "Not this time. How do you expect to practice when you're bleeding?" he jeered.
My emotions closed in on me. The way Dad was staring made me angrier by the second. Anything I said, he had an answer for. That wasn't fair. None of it was fair. I averted my gaze just as a fresh tear rolled over my cheek onto my arm. I looked down and my brows drew together. My emotions were on severe overload.
With my teeth, I pulled the tape back from the top of my free hand. I needed fresh air. I needed to get out of here.
"Stop it, Adrianna," Dad yelled and placed a hand over mine. I tried to shove him away. I was on the verge of losing it. My chest ached with sharp pains. Everything in me hurt.
"Leave me alone," I cried.
"The sooner you accept it, the better you'll be," he said, wrestling my hand away. I didn't have much strength and he knew that.
