Sweetest Heartbreak

by Heather Bentley

  I push aside the little bit of hair covering her face, knowing full well that I have no right to touch her. But my body has a mind of its own, and I give in without a fight. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I ever-so lightly brush the backs of my fingers against her smooth cheek. I haven’t touched her in so long, but it’s just as good as I remember.

  I’m startled as a warm hand slides over my thigh at the same time a faint sigh escapes her lips. This one simple touch makes me want things I can’t have. To climb in next to her, hold her to my chest, and sleep while wrapped around her, like nothing ever happened. To wish it all away.

  I force myself to slide out from under her touch, fighting to ignore the coolness that’s left behind. With my hands shoved in my pockets, I watch her chest rise and fall with each slow breath.

  My selfishness has finally caught up to me in a way I don’t know how to fix. I want to make this better, but no amount of pennies can wish away the damage I’ve done.

  Leah

  “Denise, do you have any Advil? I’m out.” Frustrated, I toss the empty bottle in the garbage with one hand while clutching my stomach with the other.

  She appears at my side. “Didn’t I see you take some this morning?”

  “That was a few hours ago. And these cramps are killing me. I’ve never had them so bad.”

  “Maybe you should go home. You look awful. And I think you’ve lost more weight. Have you considered that this might be something more than cramps?”

  I’m starting to worry that she’s right. I’ve already thrown up once in the employee bathroom this morning.

  “No, I can’t go home. We’re presenting the RFP on the Wellson campaign in two hours. I just need something for the pain to get me through.”

  “Even if I did have some, I don’t think that’s the answer. I’ve been watching you pop them like candy for the last couple of days, and they’re not helping. In fact, you’re slowly getting worse. We need to seriously think about getting you to the ER.”

  “I don’t need the ER. I just need my period to come, so these damn cramps will go away.” I bend over in my seat, my arms wrapped around my middle. “Will you do me a favor and see if one of the ladies in the billing department has a heating pad I can borrow? I know for sure that Sibyl has one.”

  She huffs, irritated. “Fine, but as soon as our meeting is over, I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re so pale right now, you’re practically translucent. I don’t like it, Leah.”

  “Okay, whatever you say. Just please get me the heating pad.”

  Her arms crossed over her chest, she grinds her jaw, clearly aggravated with me, before giving in and leaving to get me the heating pad. A thought hits me that the ladies there might have Advil as well.

  I rise to shout the request. “Denise, while you’re there—”

  But I stand too quickly, and blinding pain shoots across my abdomen as wetness and warmth rush down my legs. I reach unsuccessfully for my desk as my knees buckle.

  “Oh my God, Leah!” Denise is back at my side as a fresh round of pain seizes my middle, and my body collapses, my head bouncing off the smooth marble floor. “Somebody, call nine-one-one!”

  I wrap my arms around my stomach, dizzy with pain from head to toe, as I fight back the panic that winds around my spine.

  “Call my mom, Dee. I need my mom.”

  It’s the last thing I remember before everything goes black.

  My head throbs to a constant beat while every limb aches in protest to even the smallest attempt at movement. Opening my eyes is harder than it should be. I manage to pry them just a sliver, and I’m met with blinding white light.

  What the hell?

  My hand jerks to cover my eyes, causing a hard punch of pain to my gut as my moan echoes around the room.

  “Crap. Let me kill the lights.” The voice is familiar. A second later, I hear it again. “It’s okay, Lee. You can open your eyes now.”

  I tilt my pounding head toward the voice and cautiously try again. When I get my eyes mostly open, it takes another minute for me to focus. Although the lights are off, there’s enough sunlight coming through the window to help me assess my surroundings. A thin, pale blue gown covers my chest, leading over to a clear tube taped to my arm, as my fingers tug at a scratchy white blanket that lays over my body. A warm hand slides into my own as I gradually begin to make out the features of my guest.

  “Eli?” I croak.

  “Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” There’s a forced assurance to his words.

  It registers that his other hand is holding an ice pack to my head. When I look from our joined hands, up his arm, then to his face, I see the bleary and somber eyes of my best friend.

  “Eli?” I ask again, unable to hide my rising panic. Pain rattles my skull as I attempt to twist my head in an effort to survey the room. I know I’m in the hospital, which makes sense because I feel like I was kicked by a horse. “What happened? Where’s my mom?”

  “You hit your head. You’re in the hospital.”

  I know there’s more. The throbbing ache in my midsection confirms it. “Eli, just tell me.”

  With a labored breath, he places the ice pack aside, unable to make eye contact with me while he cautiously considers his words. When he’s ready, he squeezes my hand and bends his body over mine. “You had a miscarriage, Leah. The doctor said you miscarried and started hemorrhaging. I’m so sorry.”

  No. That makes no sense.

  I shake my head in denial, stopping after only a second from the pain that rattles from ear to ear, as I try to remember everything that led up to this moment. I stare into his eyes, thoughts of what he just said spinning in my head and fogging my mind. He’s clearly delusional. You have to be pregnant to have a miscarriage, and I was never pregnant.

  His tone turns conciliatory. “You had an ectopic pregnancy and were bleeding internally. They had to rush you in for emergency surgery. You lost a lot of blood and . . .”

  He rests his forehead on our hands and begins to shake. I manage to pull a hand free and rest it on his head, soothing him a moment before running it down and around to his face. Then, I tug at his chin until he meets my eyes.

  His shine with tears as I beg for clarification, “Are you saying . . . I was pregnant?”

  “Oh my God, Leah. I thought we were going to lose you. We were so close to losing you.” He moves closer, kissing my temple for a long beat and then wiping away tears I wasn’t even aware had run down my cheeks.

  I cover my face as a weak cry builds from behind my palms. “No. No.”

  Eli hovers over me, speaking soft words I can’t make out, as he nervously brushes my hair back from my face. But no amount of denial will hide what I know deep down. This is all really happening. Every night of drinking, combined with every blank face I’ve given myself to, has brought me to this moment.

  “Does my mom know?” I drop my hands just below my eyes and wait, terrified, for his answer.

  “Yes, she knows. I’ve been updating her hourly. She caught a flight from her last port and will be here soon.”

  I scrunch my brows in confusion.

  “She was on her Alaskan cruise, remember?”

  My muscles tighten, trying to hold back the tears at the thought of what my family must be going through right now.

  Eli hands me a tissue. “Leah, is there anyone you want me to call?” He pauses, giving me a chance to consider. “Do you want me to call the person you’re, um . . . seeing?”

  That simple question shines a spotlight into the exhaustive and ugly sham of a life I’ve been living that I can no longer hide from. I attempt to turn away in disgrace as a fresh round of tears take hold.

  “Leah, let me help you. If you don’t want me to call him, then I won’t. Just tell me what you want me to do.” His pleading is only making my guilt worse.

  “There is no one to call.” The words burn in my chest.

  He moves onto the bed, on top of the covers, and lies alongside me, turni
ng me with care until we’re face-to-face.

  After a few deep breaths, I manage to continue, “There’s no one to call because I don’t know who he is.”

  When I dare to look into his eyes, they’re strained in confusion.

  “I don’t know which one he is.”

  His body tightens as his confusion swiftly turns to pained understanding and humiliation pokes at me like a million hot needles.

  His mouth pulls into a troubled grimace, and a deep V forms between his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Eli. I’m so sorry.” I burrow into his chest, not able to witness any more of his disappointment.

  He slides his arms around me and holds me tight. I continue to babble apologies, only for him to shush me again and again.

  “You’re okay now, honey. It’ll all be okay.” He repeats that one word, “Okay,” over and over.

  But, right now, lying in this hospital bed and admitting what got me here, it makes me question how I’ll ever be okay.

  With his hands spread protectively on my back and my face nestled in his chest, I inhale his familiar scent and finally settle.

  When my crying stops and my breathing evens, he whispers into the silent room, “What did he do, Lee?”

  I exhale long and deep, too tired and broken to protect Eli and Heath’s friendship any longer. I’ve not only held on to the pain of Heath’s betrayal, but, worse, I’ve allowed it to spread like a poison through every muscle that threads through me. I’ve embraced it and nurtured it like it is a real, living thing, only for it to continue to grow and grow. Until, eventually, it is who I’ve become.

  I give Eli every moment, breath by painful breath, as I recount everything I felt for Heath. How I told him I loved him and how I let myself fall further than I ever had before. Everything that led up to that crushing day and every ugly day since.

  At times, he grips me tighter but never utters a word, his occasional flinch or low grumble in his chest doing the speaking for him. When I’m finished, he simply kisses my head and holds me until I fall asleep.

  Eli refuses to leave my side until my mom is physically in the room, so we use the time to fill in the blanks.

  After I collapsed, Denise grabbed my cell phone and called my mom. When she got her voice mail, she hung up and called Eli.

  Witnessing the sadness as my friend speaks, I can tell he’ll forever be changed by this. One more cross I have to bear.

  “I talked to Connor. He’s on his way too,” he states matter-of-factly as we both stare blankly at the TV. My fists clench beneath the blanket, knowing what this must be doing to my brother.

  “Does Lindsey know?”

  “Yes.”

  “No one else, Eli?”

  Without a glance or second of hesitation, he answers, “No one.”

  I’m relieved when he doesn’t offer to leave as the doctor comes in to check on me. I can’t stand to be alone right now. I know I’ll only drift to a dark place of self-loathing that I’m not sure I could claw my way out of.

  The doctor explains in more detail what Eli has already told me. I was dealing with an ectopic pregnancy that led to the rupture of one of my fallopian tubes. The tube had to be removed, but he goes on to say that, thankfully, there are no issues with the other tube. As if that’s supposed to make me feel better. Then, I come to find out that all of the ibuprofen I was taking for the pain only managed to thin my blood, causing the bleeding to worsen. Choosing alcohol over food didn’t help the situation either.

  Shortly after he’s gone, the door to my room violently swings open, hitting the doorstop and bouncing back. Eli and I jump, his body moving protectively in front of mine, as we’re met with the sound of heavy panting. Connor stands in the doorway, his chest heaving and his face as red as his shirt. His eyes are wild, like he’s torn between either killing someone or curling up in the fetal position.

  The second Connor’s tearful eyes meet with my own, I know Eli has shared everything.

  All of my shame disappears, instead replaced with intense relief that my brother is here. Physically just feet away. I’ve never loved him more.

  He reads me like no one else. Bolting to my side and wrapping his arms around and under my body, he leans low while pulling me into his chest. I don’t flinch at the pain because the relief that he’s here is stronger than any painkiller.

  “I’m here now, Lee Lee.” His voice shakes with the nickname he hasn’t used since grammar school. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  I know he means every word. Although Connor is just two minutes older, he will always be my big brother.

  I quietly but freely cry into his shoulder, hearing his occasional hush, as his hands stroke my back. I don’t know which one has a tighter grip on the other, but in the strength of my brother’s arms, I know, somehow, someday, everything might just be all right.

  Moving to a chair on the side of my bed, opposite Eli, Connor sits but doesn’t release my hand. He is my lifeline, my connection to the person I was. A life that was clean air and warm nights. A reminder of all the goodness that has graced my life. And of the girl I once was and wish upon every penny to once again be.

  The three of us watch the news and then a cooking show, followed by Jeopardy! with one of us occasionally whispering the answer, until my mom arrives. She’s disheveled, and it’s obvious she’s been crying when she makes it to my bedside.

  “My girl. My baby girl,” she chokes out as she runs her hands over my hair and around to my cheeks before scanning the rest of my body. When she sees every appendage is accounted for, she brings her face to mine and repeatedly kisses my cheeks before resting her lips on my forehead an extra beat.

  “I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m so, so sorry,” I rasp out, ringing my arms around her back as we cry, my face buried in the matted hair hanging over her neck.

  “Enough of that now, sweetheart.” She lifts up and dries my tears before tending to her own. With her eyes locked tight on mine, she speaks slow and firm, “Listen to me, Leah Margaret. You are going to get through this.”

  I give her a weak nod, but she holds her eyes to mine. I know what she’s waiting for.

  “I am going to get through this,” I repeat her words with stuttered conviction.

  She smiles back, pride mixed with determination, giving me hope that, if she can have faith, then maybe I can, too.

  Someone clears their throat from the doorway, and we all four turn toward the noise. My doctor is standing there, his hands folded at his waist.

  “I’m Dr. Panou. I performed your daughter’s surgery and—”

  My mom whips around, cutting him off, while eyeing him up and down, “How do I know you’re the best?” She stands tall, facing him with her arms crossed over her chest.

  His professional, confident demeanor weakens. “Pardon?”

  “Mom,” I whisper-hiss.

  She takes a small step closer, enunciating every word. “How do I know you’re the best doctor for my daughter?”

  He jolts slightly back, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s a little afraid of Madeline Dawson. Smart man.

  His confidence returned, he cocks an arrogant shoulder back and lifts his chin. “Chicago Magazine ranked me as the number two ob-gyn in all of Chicago, and I’ve—”

  Her arms move to her hips. “Number two? That’s all? We want—”

  “Mom, stop. Please. They’ve been taking very good care of me here.” My words aren’t enough though. It’s not until Eli nods in confirmation that she backs down.

  “Mrs. Dawson, I presume? If I could speak to you and your daughter in private,” Dr. Panou asks.

  Connor doesn’t budge, and Eli barely manages to rise from his chair.

  “Everyone here is family,” I state firmly.

  “Very well.”

  Dr. Panou steps up to the foot of my bed at the same time I find the controls and raise myself up as much as I can comfortably manage.

  “Now that you’ve recovered from the effects of t
he anesthesia and you have a support team in place, there are some serious issues for us to discuss. We’ve talked about your mild concussion. Continue to use an ice pack, but other than that, rest will be your best medicine. As far as the surgery goes, you’re doing remarkably well, all things considered.”

  Anxiety swirls in my chest as his tone grows gentle.

  “But, like I said earlier, what effect this will have on your reproductive health is yet to be determined. Along with that, I have another serious matter to discuss with you.” He pauses cautiously. “You are grossly underweight with troublesome signs of malnutrition and dehydration, all leading to concerns for your mental health.”

  My mom grips my hand in support.

  “I’ve arranged for our nutritionist and psychologist to visit with you, if that’s all right.”

  My mom looks to me, waiting for approval. When I give her a weak smile and small shrug, her eyes flicker with pride, and she gives my hand another squeeze.

  I turn back to him. “I would appreciate that.” My voice is small, childlike.

  His face warms with a genuine smile, and the tension from earlier evaporates. “Good. I’m glad to hear that because this could have turned out much, much worse, Leah.” When he sees my eyes fill with tears, he moves in close. “But it didn’t, and you’re still here. And, more importantly, you have people who are here for you and who love you. Whatever you’re struggling with, I promise you, it will get better if you accept help.”

  My mom brushes my hair with her fingers and looks down to me with a mixture of hope and pain at his words. Eli is focused on something on the floor while Connor steps in to lend a supportive hand to my shoulder.

  Connor takes Eli to the airport shortly after the doctor’s visit, leaving my mom and me alone, just the two of us, for the first time in months. She pulls a chair up alongside my bed and takes in every part of me. I know what she sees, and I’m more than ashamed. A gaunt, pale, sad version of what was once her loving, vivacious, smiling daughter. I’ve all but forgotten that girl. And, in this moment, I miss her as much as my mom does.