The Baby (The Boss #5)

by Abigail Barnette

  Somehow, the person who did know exactly what to do was Tony. “I’m going to go get the car warmed up. Becky, you come with me and get dressed. Sophie, we’ll meet you at the car, and we’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital.”

  I nodded, but everything was moving so fast.

  “Do we need a cart?” someone called from the door. One of the officers sprinted back down the hall, probably to talk to them. Mom and Tony turned and left, and I went back to the bedroom.

  Neil stood in the center of the room, in a t-shirt and sleep pants, his arms crossed in front of him as the gruff officer cuffed him.

  “Is this really necessary?” Neil snapped. A sheen of sweat stood out on his brow, and I didn’t know if it was from having his hands bound or because of the pills he’d taken.

  “He doesn’t like to have his hands…” I began, and he shot me a stone-cold glare.

  This is all your fault, he may as well have said.

  He was never going to forgive me.

  The other officer returned. “Bus is here.”

  “All right, Mr. Elwood, let’s go.”

  “I don’t understand, is he under arrest or what?” I looked to the nicer cop to answer.

  “He’s not under arrest,” he explained patiently. “We’re restraining him because he’s a danger to himself. They’ll take them off when he gets to the hospital.”

  I followed them all to the front door. I wanted to kiss Neil. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to beg him to understand why I was doing this to him.

  They took him out before I got the chance.

  One of the EMTs came in and asked me questions about what Neil had taken. I went back to the bedroom to find the pill bottle and numbly pressed it into her hand when I returned. She examined it and asked me how many he’d taken. I had no idea.

  There were so many questions, from the EMTs and the police, and they came one after another. Everything was quick and methodical, and somehow, I fell into my place in the odd verbal dance with them, though my mind had officially checked out.

  This was real.

  This was happening.

  Neil wanted to die.

  I’d had to call someone to help me force my husband to live.

  “What hospital is he going to?” I had the presence of mind to ask, yelling out the front door to the EMTs.

  “South Hampton,” one called back.

  I didn’t ask if I could ride with them. Neil probably didn’t want me to, anyway.

  “Do you need a ride?” the kinder officer asked.

  I shook my head. “No, my, um, our driver will bring me.”

  Even without lights and sirens, Tony would get us there just as fast. But I wouldn’t mention that to the police.

  As quickly as everyone arrived, they were gone. The ambulance, the police, even the security guards filed out, and I was left there, standing alone in the foyer. I faintly heard Olivia crying in her nursery, but I couldn’t go to her. I stood there, watching the lights of the ambulance until they disappeared over the hill and down the road. Then, I sat on the floor and waited for Mom, because I couldn’t think of anything else to do, and my legs just didn’t work, anymore.

  * * * *

  The emergency waiting room was packed, so a sympathetic nurse led us into the trauma ward, to a separate, smaller waiting room.

  “Flu season,” he said with a shrug as Mom and I sat in one of the five chairs in the stark room. “Someone will be in to talk to you soon, I’m sure.”

  When he left, I turned to Mom. “What are they going to do for him?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out, quirking her lips. “I don’t know. They used to pump your stomach, but I don’t know if they do that as much these days. They’ll probably give him something to counteract the drugs. He was conscious when they put him in the ambulance, so that’s got to be a good sign.”

  “At least he wasn’t smart enough to take a bunch of Tylenol,” I said bitterly. I would throw all of that out before he came home. And I’d get a lock for all the medicine cabinets. I would make him sign his fucking pills out with me if I had to. “I can’t believe he did this to me.”

  She rubbed my arm. “Do you need to call anybody?”

  I would have called Emma, before. I shook my head. “His brothers, but they’re so far away it’s not like they can do anything. And I don’t even know if he’d want to tell them.”

  We sat in silence, until I remembered Dr. Harris. I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Actually, his psychiatrist should know.”

  “Good idea.”

  I dialed Dr. Harris’s emergency number—“Any time, day or night,” he’d promised us—and the answering service took all our information. He called me back within twenty minutes and told me he was on his way.

  “Do you want me to go get you anything? Coffee?” Mom asked once I hung up.

  I shook my head. “I don’t see any around here, anyway.”

  “They’ve got some at the nurse’s station,” she said, and I had no doubt she would just pull out her hospital confidence and strut right over there to get me some.

  “Nah, I’m keyed up enough as it is.” I leaned my elbows on my knees and dropped my head into my hands. Now that we were inside, my coat was starting to feel oppressive, but I hadn’t had the common sense to change out of my nightgown. I couldn’t exactly sit in the hospital waiting room in a silky chemise.

  I don’t know how long we waited. I didn’t check the clock on my phone, and there wasn’t one in this waiting room. I didn’t pace—it would have only made me sweatier—but I did shred quite a few kleenexes while we waited for news. It seemed like forever before a doctor came in.

  “Mrs. Elwood?” the woman in light blue scrubs and a white coat said, addressing Mom.

  “No, I’m Mrs. Elwood. Or, um, Ms. Scaife. Sophie.” My stuffy nose made me sound like a five-year-old with a bad cold. “Sorry. I’m Neil’s wife.”

  She nodded, looking down at her chart. I was used to the shock thing. When he’d been in the hospital before, people had often assumed I was his daughter. When she looked up again, it was with a sympathetic but reassuring smile. “I’m Doctor Patel. I saw your husband when he came in. Let me give you the good news, first. Overdoses on a medication like Valium are rarely fatal. The dose he was on, and the quantity that was prescribed, are enough that we would worry about his breathing becoming impaired, but so far, he hasn’t shown any signs of distress. We did perform a gastric lavage—”

  “I thought you didn’t do those as often, anymore,” Mom interrupted, her face creased with worry. Then, she added, “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  “No, it’s not a problem.” Dr. Patel waved her hand. “You’re right, we don’t do them as often, anymore, but given the time frame Ms. Scaife estimated, we thought it might be the best course of action, because it can stop the medication from having a chance to absorb. And we did get quite a few chunks of pills that hadn’t been digested, yet.”

  They’d pumped Neil’s stomach? I wanted to vomit. Tears sprang to my eyes. “Does that hurt? I mean, what you did to him?”

  Dr. Patel’s lips clamped briefly. “It’s not comfortable. But it was the best course of action.”

  Neil had been through enough hospital pain. And I couldn’t bear the thought of him going through more.

  “That was the good news,” Mom said while I pushed down my sobs. “What’s the bad news?”

  “The bad news is that, because this was an intentional overdose, we need to keep him for a psych evaluation, and possibly inpatient treatment.” Dr. Patel looked between the two of us. “We’re also going to need to keep an eye on him to make sure his respiration isn’t affected, so he’s going to need to stay on a general floor for observation tonight. So, we’re looking at a couple of days, minimum.”

  “He sees a psychiatrist,” I told her, my mind still stuck on the psych evaluation part. “He’s on his way here. Can he do the evaluation?”

  “I think so?” Maybe the ins and
outs of the psych ward weren’t part of her job. “He would know better than I do. That’s something he’ll have to work out with our people. Either way, he needs to stay overnight so we can monitor his breathing.”

  “Can she go in and see him?” Mom asked for me.

  “Soon. The nurses are going to get him cleaned up. They’ll let you know when you can.” The doctor tapped her fingers on the edge of her clipboard. “If you think of any other questions, just let the nurse know. I would be happy to help.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” my mom said.

  “No problem. And we’ll keep you updated if anything changes, but his prognosis is good.”

  After she left, I shook my head and stared hopelessly at the floor. “Honestly, I don’t know if I want to see him. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him for this.”

  “That’s not something you need to worry about tonight.” Mom reached over to the end table, to the nearly empty box of tissues, to hand me a fresh one. “Right now, let’s just be thankful that he’s going to be okay.”

  There was a knock on the door before it opened, and Dr. Harris stepped inside. He’s the kind of guy you’d expect to see running for a senate seat. He has blindingly white teeth and a square jaw right out of an old Superman comic. Being woken up in the middle of the night didn’t suit his complexion; he was as pale as a saltine cracker.

  I looked up and pulled my coat tighter around me. Mom kept her arm protectively around my back.

  “Sophie,” he said, putting his hand out to shake mine. I felt guilty taking it, since I’d been holding snot rags all night. “I wish we were seeing each other under better circumstances.”

  “Yeah, you’re telling me,” I said with a bitter laugh. “Have you seen him?”

  “I did, briefly. He seems to think this is all a lot of fuss for nothing.” Dr. Harris paused, as if to let those words sink in. But I already knew that would be Neil’s reaction. “I think this is indicative of something more serious than I’ve been seeing in our sessions.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t a serious attempt,” Mom said hopefully. “Maybe it was a cry for help type of thing.”

  “It’s imperative that we treat every attempt as an intent to commit suicide,” Dr. Harris said patiently. “Based on this incident and disclosures made in some of our recent sessions, my recommendation is that Neil be admitted to an inpatient mental health facility.”

  “A mental hospital?” I squeezed the crumpled tissue in my fist.

  “We don’t use that term. There’s a treatment center upstate that I’ve sent patients to before. I’m sure you’re imagining One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, but I promise this is a much different set up. It’s very homey, and the staff is excellent. He’ll be able to make phone calls and receive visitors, if he chooses.” Dr. Harris’s tone became more firm. “This is in his best interest, Ms. Scaife.”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Neil to get better, but he wasn’t going to agree to leave for such a long period of time.

  He was trying to leave forever, I reminded myself. I hated when I was right.

  Still, there was no way I would be able to convince him. “He’s never going to agree to that.”

  “That’s why I’ve suggested an involuntary psychiatric hold.” He took the seat one chair down from me and placed his briefcase between us, popping the locks. “I may be able to get an order without your consent, but as Neil’s power of attorney, your assistance will help this go much easier.”

  Involuntary. The word stuck in my brain. I turned to my mom. “He’ll never forgive me.”

  “Oh, honey.” She put her arms around me, and I fell apart. I was getting so good at that lately. I’d almost forgotten how to pull myself together again.

  “This is a difficult decision for a family to make,” Dr. Harris went on as I cried. “But, ultimately, it’s what will help Neil.”

  I knew he was right. Neil had pleaded with me to let him die. He’d tried once, and he would try again. I couldn’t put my life on hold to watch him twenty-four-seven and be a good parent to Olivia, at the same time.

  She had to come first. And I owed it to her to keep her afi with her, even if he had to leave for a while to do it.

  I sat up a little. “At this place, they’re going to watch him, right? All the time?”

  Dr. Harris nodded solemnly. “They take every precaution. Patients are supervised, medicated, and they participate in group and private therapy. I wouldn’t suggest this line of treatment if I weren’t positive that it was the best possible course of action for him.”

  “You thought the best possible course of action was to prescribe the fucking Valium,” I snapped, my anger boiling up hot in my chest. It subsided when Dr. Harris flinched at my words.

  “If I’d had any suspicion that Neil was harboring suicidal ideation, at the time, I wouldn’t have,” he admitted cautiously. I was surprised he didn’t add “off the record” to cover his ass from a malpractice suit. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

  “Sorry.” My shoulders might as well have been lead weights. “I know you’re doing the best you can with him. I’m just angry. And I don’t know where to put it all.”

  “That’s understandable,” he said.

  I wiped my nose with the now-ineffective kleenex. “Fine. I’ll sign whatever you need me to. Will I be able to see him before they take him anywhere?”

  “Of course.” Dr. Harris seemed relieved. “They’ll probably keep him here until tomorrow, for observation. I can drive him to Arbor Rest myself. You could accompany us, if you’d like.”

  “No.” There was no way I would be able to ride all the way up there without chickening out. “I don’t even want to see him until after I’ve signed everything.”

  “Okay. Then let’s get the ball rolling.” He handed me a few forms. “These will explain all your rights, and Neil’s, and what your responsibilities will be.”

  It took forever. Twice, a nurse came out to let me know that Neil was asking for me, and Dr. Harris went in my stead. As I pored over the forms, I was so glad my mother spoke hospital. Finally, everything was in order, and Dr. Harris could handle it from there. There was legal stuff to deal with, but I was so tired that I couldn’t do more than just nod as he talked me through it.

  “Let’s go see Neil and get you home,” Mom said, squeezing my arm as she led me toward the room he was being held in. She said “we”, but she didn’t follow me in as I pushed back the sliding glass and slipped through the curtain.

  A heart monitor beeped steadily, and an IV pump clicked and whirred as I approached the bed. The lights beneath the cupboards on the wall were on, but not the overheads, and in the dimness, I couldn’t tell if Neil was asleep or not.

  I had hoped to never see him like this, again. The medical equipment around him, the oxygen cannula in his nostrils and the plastic bracelet on his wrist brought me right back to every hospital visit for chemo, every night spent in rooms that smelled like antiseptic. With those memories came the same old fear: that he would die, that I would be left alone, that there was nothing I could do to stop it. Once again, Neil was fighting a battle against his own body. This time, it was his brain chemistry instead of cancer cells, but somehow, the latter seemed less scary.

  “Would you like me to leave, ma’am?”

  The voice startled me. I hadn’t noticed the dark-haired woman in the navy scrubs sitting in the corner. A patient sitter. I remembered when Mom used to pick up those shifts for extra money.

  “Yes, thank you,” I told her. “And thank you for staying in here with him.”

  She nodded. It was her job. She probably wanted to be at home, right now, or doing anything but guarding a suicidal man in the emergency room.

  I got suddenly angry on her behalf. Probably because it just didn’t feel right to be angry with Neil myself. I was sure that would come later.

  “Sophie?” Neil asked. He sounded groggy and tired. Maybe they didn’t get everything out of his system as f
ast as they thought.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said as I came closer. “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

  “You’re sorry because I stopped you,” I corrected him. “I don’t want you to apologize to me, yet. I want you apologize once you realize what you’ve done.”

  “I know what I’ve done. I wasn’t in my right mind. I made a rash decision—”

  I held up my hand. “No. Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You planned this, Neil.” I wasn’t going to coddle him. I’d done enough enabling. Look where it had gotten us. “You sat down and wrote a note. You took all of those pills. And you…”

  I had to stop to keep my voice from quivering. Or full-on screaming at him. I didn’t know which.

  “I didn’t realize how bad I’d gotten,” he tried again. “Not until now. There’s a startling amount of clarity that comes with being held down while someone forcibly threads a tube up your nose.”

  My stomach turned over. They’d done that to him in the ICU once, when he’d come out of the sedation long enough to pull out his NG tube in his confusion. I don’t know if he remembered that; I hoped he didn’t.

  “Not enough clarity.” I took a deep breath. “Neil, you’re going to a hospital where they can help you.”

  He pushed himself up. “I most certainly am not.”

  “You are. Doctor Harris is getting an order for an involuntary psychiatric hold.” I’d expected my heart to break at the look of disbelieving despair on his face, but I felt nothing. Nothing but a sense of satisfaction that I was finally in control of him enough to help him. “I just signed the papers as your power of attorney.”

  The way he looked at me… I never wanted him to look at me that way, again. In that moment, he hated me. “How dare you? How dare you presume—”

  “I’m doing this for us. For you, for me, for Olivia… You can’t desert this family, and I know that deep down, the person you are, who you really are when your brain isn’t swimming in shitty sadness chemicals? You wouldn’t want to do this.” It was easy for me to stand strong when I knew I was right. No argument he could throw at me would make me back down.