The Dividing Line

by Victoria H. Smith

  I tried to read her face, but she gave no tell, no way to read her.

  “She’s awake,” she said, finally revealing a bit of hope with her small smile. “And she’s asking for you.”

  I followed her down the hall, not really knowing what to expect. Lacey’s doctor hadn’t revealed much information about her condition. Just that she’d hit her head in the accident and went unconscious. She was unconscious, but they had her stable. That’s all I was told. So when I went into her room, I braced myself for the worst. I had to. If I didn’t, I could potentially break at what I saw, but it turned out my mental preparation wasn’t necessary. She was okay, and she looked amazing. Her hair was up, the soft room lighting shining on her as she rested with her eyes closed. Though she had a large bandage on her forehead, I saw no other medical bandages. No casts and only small bruises on her arms. I couldn’t be more relieved. More grateful.

  I walked to her bedside silently. Lifting my hand, I brushed the beautiful flush staining her caramel-toned cheek with my fingers.

  Her eyes fluttered open, revealing those deep dark eyes that always made me a slave to her.

  “Drake.” Her face flooded in an emotion-filled relief. Reaching up, she slid her arms around my neck, burying her face deep in the crook. “Oh, Drake.”

  I leaned down so I could be closer to her. I had to be closer to her. Her scent wrapped around me like a thick blanket and her soft breaths were more beautiful than the most magnificent concerto. I was so glad to hear her breathing it hurt.

  “God, Lace…” I said, curling my fingers into the back of her medical gown. I tried so hard not to grab her, not to take her against my chest and make sure she was safe for all eternity in my arms. “Baby, I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you.”

  She gasped, her breaths shaky. “I thought you lost me too.”

  I closed my eyes tight. Had it really been that close? Was the strap of a single seat belt and an airbag really the only reasons she was alive and in my arms right now? I cancelled the thoughts. I couldn’t think about it. I couldn’t fathom it. I held her closer, trying so hard to be gentle with her. She was so delicate. So precious to me.

  She moaned within my embrace, and I pulled back, but with a tug, she wouldn’t let me.

  “I’m just sore. Don’t stop holding me please.”

  Letting out a breath, I ignored her request, lying her down. “I don’t want to hurt you, Lace.”

  She scanned my eyes, and her own were watery. “Would it hurt to kiss me?”

  I knew I shouldn’t have been selfish, but that was the one thing I was willing to test. I captured her lips, and the moan she made wasn’t from pain this time. I knew that moan well. I ached for it.

  She moved her small fingers to my cheeks, and I pressed her back into her pillowcase ever so softly. I searched her lips, explored the taste with a sliding tongue. She could take no more and opened her mouth to me, sighing gently beneath me.

  When we both needed a breath, I forced myself to stop us. I brushed my lips to her cheek instead, needing the contact, then leaned my forehead against her temple.

  “They told me you were awake.”

  Another nurse came into the room, a strong smile on her face surrounded by blonde curls. “Seems like you’ll be just fine. I’m Nurse Simpson. The head nurse sent me in to check your blood pressure, sweetie.”

  I didn’t want to let go of her, but I did so the nurse could do her job. I helped Lacey sit up and placed my hand on the back of hers.

  She cuffed Lacey’s arm. “The doctor believes you’ll make a full recovery. You were very lucky,” she said, placing her stethoscope on Lacey’s arm. I assumed the end of it was cold because she flinched a little. The nurse pumped and the room went silent for a moment while she listened. Quickly, it was over and she unstrapped her. She let Lacey know everything was in order and placed the stethoscope back around her neck. She stared at Lacey, and for some reason, her smile left her.

  “It really is a shame what happened,” she said, patting Lacey’s other hand. “But don’t worry. You’re young. You’ll have another baby.”

  The blood drained from Lacey’s face, and by the sick feeling in my stomach, mine had to be doing the same. Our reactions went unnoticed, and the nurse looked up at me.

  “Is this the father?” she asked.

  Lacey slowly turned to me, blinking over a set of watery eyes. “Drake, what is she saying?”

  I couldn’t give her an answer because I didn’t know, and we both gazed at the one person in the room who did. The nurse’s eyes widened. “I thought the head nurse told—” she paused, closing her lips. “Just a second. I’ll go get the doctor.”

  She walked off, but I left Lacey and crossed in front of her.

  “Wait. You mean Lacey is pregnant?” The words sounded so foreign escaping my lips, so unreal.

  Frowning, she rested her hands in front of her. “She was pregnant.”

  Despite what she said, I still didn’t understand. I didn’t understand because I couldn’t fathom it.

  “Drake…”

  Lacey’s emotion-filled voice came from behind me, and one look confirmed the tears in her eyes. I went to her immediately.

  “I’ll be right back with the doctor,” the nurse said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Lacey shook head, her lip quivering. “She’s lying. She has to be lying, Drake. It’s not true. I couldn’t have been…”

  She was shaking, and I brought her into my arms. She didn’t know she was pregnant. She didn’t know. Oh, God…

  The doctor came in, an older gentleman in a white coat. He was the one who told me my girlfriend was alive and was now about to confirm the fate of… our child.

  “Hello, Lacey.” He went to her bedside. His face wasn’t grave. It was more at ease like a doctor was required to be when bringing news to his patients. That’s when I knew he was going to tell us just what the nurse said, but Lacey wasn’t so accepting.

  “That nurse,” she paused, pointing a finger in the general direction of the door. “That nurse was lying. I couldn’t have been pregnant. I’m not pregnant. I never was.”

  The doctor tilted his head, resting his hand on the side bar of her bed. “I know this is hard news to receive, Lacey.”

  “You’re not listening to me. I’m not. I was not. It’s not possible. I’m on birth control.”

  “Lacey.” I pulled her tight to me, trying to be the strong one for her, but inside I was being eaten away. I was dying.

  “One out of every one hundred women do get pregnant while on the pill, Lacey. Even if they are using it perfectly,” the doctor continued. “And lots of things can affect its accuracy. Some natural supplements. Certain antidepressants and antibiotics.”

  “Antibiotics…” she whispered, pulling away from my chest.

  “Yes. They can interfere with them. We usually recommend a second form of birth control while taking them.” He lifted his clipboard, flipping a page. “Now, I believe you will make a full recovery from this, Lacey. You were still in your first trimester. I estimated about a month.”

  When he said a month I knew exactly the date she’d conceived. That was right before she went back to Paris and that was also… only days after she’d stopped taking her antibiotics. She had gotten sick right before our trip to Chicago, that real bad cold that turned into a bacterial infection, and she was taking antibiotics then. They must have not been out of her system yet and that must have been why she asked the doctor about them.

  The sickness rose inside me at the realization. Everything made sense now. She was always so tired all the time in Paris. I bet her condition had something to do with that. She’d also gotten sick at the restaurant. To the smell of the samgyeopsal.

  Lacey really had been pregnant, and by the shattered look of her face… she knew that too.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Drake

  Leaving Lacey that night was the hardest thing I ever had to do. The hospital wanted her to stay over
night and wouldn’t allow any of her family to do the same. Wouldn’t allow me to do the same despite the fact I was her emergency contact. Even after I pleaded, nearly begged that I had to be there for her, the decision was still the same. It was out of my hands. I was told I could pick her up tomorrow, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like they hadn’t just told her she’d lost the only child she’d ever conceived and now had to deal with that information alone in a foreign environment.

  I refused to go until at least the cops did. They wanted to question her about the details of the accident. As much as I wanted to know specifics about who could have possibly done this to her, I urged her to wait until she was ready. She didn’t need to do that now. Not after what she just found out. In the end, I didn’t have a choice. She accepted question after question, giving quiet answers, and it only killed my heart further as I watched the sadness in her eyes. She couldn’t give them much information. She saw no faces, didn’t remember the plate number of the car. She had a visual description of a common vehicle in the city of Chicago.

  When they asked her if she knew anything else, she simply shook her head and gazed away.

  I was forced into a night of restless sleep after I left the hospital, trying to deal with dual information. How I was going to help her come back from this, and how I was going to deal with the loss of a child myself. In the end, I pushed my emotions as far away as I could. I had to.

  For her.

  The next morning, I brought her favorite flowers, lilies. When I touched her cheek to wake her up, I knew something was wrong. She acknowledged me, her lips curled in a small smile, but the way she stared at me was blank, empty. Without words, she placed her cheek back to her pillow and stared at the wall ahead of her.

  Setting down her flowers, I got her doctor, and he told me something I didn’t understand. Something that didn’t make sense to me… at all.

  “Lacey’s showing signs of postpartum depression,” he said.

  I knew that word, depression. But I didn’t understand why he was associating it with Lacey. Lacey was always so happy. So uplifted and positive. How could this be happening to her? Why was this happening to her?

  “New mothers sometimes suffer from this, as well as women who have recently experienced a miscarriage like Lacey has,” he continued.

  The world felt like it was happening around me in that moment. Like I wasn’t a part of it and just watching from the outside. Lacey. My Lacey had depression. The world wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t.

  I looked up at the doctor. “What can be done?”

  “I’ve discussed Lacey’s condition with her. She understands. I’ve prescribed antidepressants, but she’s very adamant about not being on them.”

  This didn’t surprise me. Lacey wasn’t a fan of any kind of drugs. Mostly because of her history with her father. I had only seen her take medicine when she’d been broken down to do so, like with her cold. Her birth control was the only exception to that.

  “So our only option at this point is lots of rest, a good diet, and if she can manage, some light physical activity,” the doctor said. “If in a few weeks nothing has changed, then I’ll push for meds again. See if she’s changed her mind about them. Stop by the nurse on your way out. I’ll leave the names of some counselors for Lacey as well.”

  *

  The cab ride home was a quiet one. Lacey rested the whole way, nestled under my arm. I wanted to talk to her, tell her everything was going to be okay, but how could I when I didn’t know? If she really had PPD, the doctor said it could last months or even longer. All I could do was support her like he advised and create the most positive environment I could for her. I helped her out of the cab, grabbing her bag in one hand and holding her hand in the other.

  When we went inside Derrick’s place, the house was quiet. I was grateful for it. Her aunt came around the corner and brought Lacey into a hug, being just as gentle as I would have been. Lacey gave her a forced smile, her head dipped as she did. Her aunt gave her a kiss before opening the door that led up to my room and rubbed Lacey’s back as she took to the stairs. When Lacey was clear, that’s when her aunt’s hand went to her mouth, her eyes watering.

  Swallowing hard, I had to school my features when I saw that. God, this was going to be hard.

  Her aunt wiped underneath her eyes, then squeezed my arm when I passed her.

  “Thanks for letting her stay with me,” I said to her.

  “Of course. She needs you, and she needs to be at home,” she said, nodding with the words. “The boys are at school. I’ll make sure they’re quiet when they get in and let me know if she needs anything. I can have Derrick bring her anything she needs when he gets off work.”

  Lacey was sitting on my bed when I got upstairs. I told her she should sleep and I’d get her anything she needed. Most of that day, I left her to rest, checking on her every so often. I didn’t want to bother her too much. I made sure she was fed and had enough blankets. She didn’t speak much but did argue once over being fused over. I assured her it wasn’t a problem and gave her a kiss before leaving her to herself again.

  It was when I was collecting her plate from dinner she spoke to me again.

  “Drake?”

  I placed her plate down on my dresser and sat beside her. She had her back to me, facing the wall. I touched her shoulder and she turned. She’d been crying, her eyes red and blotchy.

  “How can you ever forgive me?” she whispered, staring up at me with glassy eyes.

  I couldn’t break. I had to be strong for her. My next words took effort to control, but I did. “You did nothing wrong, Lace.”

  “But I did.” Her words were so faint, so small. “I lost our baby, Drake. It’s my fault I lost our baby. If I hadn’t been driving. If I hadn’t have gone out there…”

  The tears rolled down her cheeks, and I crawled into bed with her, holding her while she continued to apologize. Continued to place the blame for the entire accident on herself. I shut my eyes tight as I held her, trying to soothe her as best I could with my words and touch while at the same time forcing myself to maintain what little strength I had left. She needed me. I couldn’t be anything but strong for her so I did. No matter how hard it was. No matter how much I was breaking down inside myself. In attempts to calm us both, I sang to her. A song I’d sung to bring her heart peace before. My mother’s lullaby from my home country I used to believe was magic. It always had a way of healing any situation, any time my heart had been made heavy by the outside world. As I grew older, I knew the truth. The song wasn’t magic, but something it did hold was love, and love had a way of mending the most severe pain. Things so agonizing you don’t think you could go on. Lacey and I both needed that magic right now. That extreme healing love.

  The soft words I sang into her ear eventually faded away, and to my relief, her sobs went with them. Lacey fell asleep against my chest, clinching onto my shirt even in her dreams.

  I kissed her brow then backed away, wrapping her in my blankets in silence right after. Without words, I gathered up what little laundry she had along with mine, then got her plate like I had before. After dropping off the plate in the kitchen, I went to the basement to do laundry.

  And that was when I couldn’t do it anymore. I lost it.

  I lost it.

  The laundry was thrown from its basket when I tossed it. The bottle of detergent and softener sheets followed, hitting the floor. After that, I grabbed the first thing I could find from my basket that would muffle sounds.

  One of my bed sheets.

  Balling it up, I let myself scream into it, and I didn’t stop. I cursed everything. The asshole who did this to her. The doctor who told us the news. I even blamed the world. By the time I was done, I was sitting against the wall, my head in my hands.

  With shaking hands, I reached into my pocket. My fingers were on autopilot. I didn’t know what I was doing. It wasn’t until I heard her voice that I realized what I’d done, and with the familiarity of it, why I had
done it.

  “Hello?” my mom spoke into the receiver.

  She didn’t know it was me. I had to get a new number when I moved internationally.

  “Hello?” she asked again. “Hello? Who is this?”

  I drew in a shuddered breath, shutting my eyes. “Mom?”

  The single word came out cracked, strained, and she was only silent for a moment before she responded to it.

  “Truman?” she gasped.

  I took the phone from my ear, shaking it in debate before taking it back.

  “Truman, is that you?”

  I couldn’t say anything. Why did I call her? I felt so stupid. So pathetic.

  “Truman, if it’s you please don’t hang up. Please talk to me.”

  In the end, I couldn’t. I ended the call and tossed the phone to the floor. Pushing myself to my feet, I picked up all the laundry I’d thrown when I broke. I got to Lacey’s clothes and found the ones she wore during the accident. I didn’t let myself think. I cleaned out the pockets and tossed them in the washing machine. I was picking up the garbage I found inside her pockets when I did stop. There was a scrap of paper there. An address, a phone number, and a single word: Dad.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Drake

  I sat at the foot my bed, trying to figure out what to make of the slip of paper I found in Lacey’s jeans.

  Had she been seeking out her dad? If she was, who had given this paper to her? It wasn’t in her handwriting. Could it possibly be his? Had he written this down for her? Had she met him already and not told me?

  I turned at the waist, gazing at the woman who had all the answers as she rested. She kept this from me, and I’d be lying to say I didn’t know why. With what I did, I didn’t blame her. I just wished she’d kept me in the loop. She didn’t have to do this alone.

  She shouldn’t have had to do this alone.

  I rested my elbows on my knees, dipping my head. I’d failed her again. Just in a different way this time.