by Julie Bailes
Makes sense. I go to the front desk and tell them I’m here to meet with Dr. Ruben. The man at the desk calls back and lets someone know that I’ve arrived. Almost immediately, the nurse who gathered my samples a few days ago calls my name. “Mr. Cooper, you may come on back.”
Lucille grips my arms and asks, “Would you like for me to go back with you?”
I do. I don’t want to go through this on my own. Good or bad, I’m going to need someone to lean on. Either way, the fight that lies ahead of me isn’t going to be an easy one.
We get into the room, and I take a seat on the exam table.
Lucille sits in the chair next to me and rests her hand on my knee. “Just breathe. It’ll all be fine,” she assures.
“Mr. Cooper,” Dr. Ruben acknowledges, extending his hand to mine for a shake.
“Lucille,” he nods. He steadies his stool and takes a seat before opening the chart and removing several pieces of paper. “Well, I’ve got some good and bad news for you,” he informs. I squeeze the sides of the table tightly, bracing myself for the results.
“Good news is you tested positive for a drug we refer to as MDMA, an ingredient found in ecstasy, which would explain the symptoms you’re experiencing,” he explains. I fucking knew it. I knew I wouldn’t go to another chick’s home, and I sure as hell wouldn’t coherently fuck her.
“Ecstasy, huh. I know it can cause people to act ape-shit crazy, but what about the aftermath? I can’t remember anything, and this is why? It causes memory loss?” He closes the chart and tosses it aside. He leans his back against the wall and places his pen back into his shirt pocket.
“In an addict, no. But for you, yes. The effects are greater for you than they are for a typical, everyday user.”
“Would you mind elaborating a little more? I mean, I couldn’t care less about remembering any second of me being in contact with Sophie, but I need to know how to explain this to my girl,” I explain.
“It’s a hallucinogenic stimulant, a psychedelic amphetamine. It triggers a chemical in your brain known as serotonin. See, serotonin contributes to mood regulation and in most cases, increases sex drive. As far as your memory is concerned, you may or may not remember the events that took place after you consumed the substance. In addition to the memory loss, it also causes confusion, anxiety, and depression for days, sometimes weeks.”
“Wait. And they distribute shit like this from pharmacies? Isn’t that, I don’t know, illegal?” I bite out.
“Wyatt Cooper,” Lucille warns. “I understand you’re frustrated, and so am I. But, Dr. Ruben is just doing his job. He has no control over what the pharmacies distribute. He deserves an apology,” she adds.
She’s right; he’s done nothing wrong. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I know it’s not your fault that others abuse drugs, but this pisses me off to no end. I’ve never once taken any drugs, and the first time I do, it’s involuntary, and it’s not the soft shit like marijuana. No, it’s hardcore fucking ecstasy!”
He clears his throat and nods, accepting my apology. “The next step would be to file a report and press charges. We’ve got the evidence to secure an arrest and to prosecute,” he informs.
Charges? I should have her ass put in jail, but at the moment, I’ve got enough shit going on in my life. “How long do I have to press charges?” I ask.
“To the best of my knowledge, North Carolina doesn’t have a limitation. However, the sooner the better, Mr. Cooper.”
“I shouldn’t have to go through this. No one should,” I sigh, completely irritated.
“I understand. I can only imagine how frustrating this is for you,” he expresses.
Imagine, my ass. He can’t begin to understand how I feel. On top of feeling violated, I’m over here contemplating what it’s going to take to get Allie back. I turn my attention to Lucille and pour out a little more of my heart. “I fought for my life to get back to her, literally. Before this shit happened, I had her. She was waking up and getting ready to reopen her heart to me, but now … now, I feel as if I’m fighting a battle that’s already been lost,” I choke.
Dr. Ruben stands from his stool and places his hand on my shoulder. “If you fought that hard to get back to her, don’t give up now. You’ll regret it the rest of your life. Stay strong,” he encourages, slapping the back of my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I say, lowering my head to hide my escaping tears.
“I’m going to have my staff make a copy of the results so you can take a copy with you. Show them to her. Don’t hesitate if you need for me to sit down with you and your girlfriend to explain your results and how the drug affects the mind. ”
“No need. I’ll take care of Allie. Thank you, Dr. Ruben,” Lucille chimes.
“Yes, ma’am. Like I said, I’m here if you need me.”
He shakes Lucille’s hand and exits the room. As soon as the door closes, Lucille stands up and places her hands on her hips, her clogs tapping the floor. “Ugh! I just— I can’t believe …” She paces the small room, mumbling inaudible words under her breath.
“Lucille?”
“What?”
“Help me.”
Her arms fall and she eyes me quizzically. “Help you what?” she asks.
“Help me fight for her,” I beg. Lucille rushes to me and wraps her arms around my neck. She doesn’t say a word; she just consoles me.
I rest my head on her shoulder and let it all out; secretly asking God to be with me through this battle I’m entering. I’m not scared that I’ve lost Allie. I haven’t. I’m afraid of what Allie can do to me. I learned earlier that hateful words are like bullets being shot into my chest. They’re lethal.
The nurse comes in and hands me my copy of the results. I fold the papers and shove them into my back pocket. Lucille and I head back out into the waiting room, splitting in different directions. She goes for the doors that lead out into the parking lot, and I head for the elevators.
“Um, where you goin’?” Lucille questions.
“To see Allie. I’m going to tell her what Dr. Ruben said,” I reply, reading the doubt on her face.
She tsks, shakes her head, walks over to grab my wrist and pulls me with her to the exit. “No, sir, you aren’t. You promised to let her settle in before you attacked her with all this madness. That’s not changing just because you got the answers you were looking for. She still needs rest. The less stress she’s under, the faster she’ll recover. Come on, my shift’s over. We’ll pick up some movies, and I’ll cook you some dinner. Whatever you want.” I listen to her and know she’s right. As much as I want to prove to Allie that I wouldn’t betray her, she doesn’t need any added stress. I’ll leave her alone, for now.
Ten
~Allie~
Halle-motherfreakin-lujah! The day has come for me to leave this death-infested hospital and head home. I don’t have anything but the clothes Mom brought up yesterday, sweats and a tank. I’ve brushed my teeth, gently combed through my nappy hair, and I’m ready to go. I’m anxiously waiting on Mom to get here to take me home. I called Blake twice already to let him know I’ve been discharged, but he hasn’t answered. I’m sure he’s already been informed, but I just wanted to double-check. He would flip his shit if he came up, and I wasn’t here.
Just as I’m sliding on my flip-flops, Blake walks in. He’s in scrubs, a surgical hat, those blue bootie things that cover his shoes, and a mask hanging from the strings tied around his neck. “Hey, baby, you ready?” He walks over and bends down to kiss the top of my head.
“Hell. Yes. Mom should be here any minute. I called her a little over thirty minutes ago,” I tell him.
His smile fades. “Your mom? Why?” he quizzes.
“Because … I got discharged,” I shrug. He pulls the cap from his head and crumples it into the palm of his hand.
“Babe, I thought we agreed you were coming to my ... our house?”
“No, you voiced that you believed it would be best for me to stay at your
house because you could afford an around-the-clock nurse, but I don’t need that,” I protest.
“You said you didn’t want to be anywhere near Wyatt, and we agreed you would stay with me, Allie. Dammit, you don’t need to be under any stress,” he argues.
I understand where he’s coming from, but I don’t want to be babysat. I just want to go home, climb into my bed, and forget the last week ever happened. I want to put in my ear buds, listen to some Ben Rector and Ron Pope, read a little, and forget. Plus, Blake spends most of his time at the hospital or catching up on sleep; I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding. Of course, he says his home is our home, but I still can’t get it out of my head that he only wants me there because he feels like Wyatt’s competition. No matter how many times I tell him he isn’t, Blake remains uneasy about Wyatt and me being under the same roof.
“Blake?” He lifts his eyes to mine, but he doesn’t answer. “Come here,” I order, taking a fistful of his top and pulling him down to me. I lift my head and place the tip of my nose to his. “You listen to me, okay? I love you, and I love how concerned you are about the babies and me, but it’ll be fine. No, I don’t want to be near Wyatt; Mom and I’ve already discussed this. Wyatt is to stay out of my sight. He and I have unfinished business, and eventually, we’ll have to discuss—”
“Hell no, not anytime soon, and sure as hell not by yourselves,” he commands, jumping in and cutting me off. He pulls away from me and runs his fingers through his hair. He takes a few steps back, and I can see he’s frustrated, maybe even angry.
“Babe, tell me why you’re upset. Is it me?” He clasps his fingers behind his neck and stares to the ceiling.
“No, not you. I can’t stand that son-of-a-bitch. And after what he did to you last Friday, I want to rip out his throat,” he seethes.
I stand up and walk to where he is. I pull his hands down away from his neck and wrap them around my waist. I rest the side of my face on his chest, and wrap my arms around his middle. “I know, B. And I’m sorry, I really am, but I want to be in the comfort of my own bed. My ass burns like jellyfish have been using it as their main food source. These beds are far from comfortable.” His hands drop low and rest on both ass cheeks, and he massages them gently. I pull my head back and look up to him. “Okay? You have to tell me it’s okay, or I’m not going to stop thinking that you’re mad at me.”
“If it makes you comfortable, and you promise to follow your discharge instructions … fine,” he huffs. I rest my head back onto his chest and listen for the rapid thumping in his chest to slow.
I lean up to kiss him just as Mom walks through the door. “You ready, love?” She walks over and pushes Blake back, placing herself in his spot and hugs me tenderly, paying close attention to my sore ribs.
“Definitely,” I confirm.
“Blake, thanks for looking after my girl,” she acknowledges.
“Always,” he promises.
“I’ll be by once my shift ends. Since you won’t agree to stay with me, I’ll be at your house whenever I’m not here,” he announces. I agree and kiss him goodbye.
Who in the hell would have ever thought a car ride could be so painful? Even the slightest bumps make me cringe in pain. Each bump we hit, I feel my brain jar around, and my ribs beg for mercy. It’s only a forty-minute drive to my house from the hospital, but this trip feels like we’re on a full-day road trip. When Mom pulls into the driveway, I finally release the door handle I’ve been gripping the entire drive. She hops out and rushes over to my side to help me out. Before I take her extended hand, I sit back and focus on the breathing strategy Blake taught me; it gets oxygen to my lungs and eases the bone-splitting pain my ribs are experiencing.
I step out of the car slowly and Mom helps me up to my room. She goes over to my bed and folds the covers back, but I head into the bathroom instead. I’m grimy and smell of death; I need a shower.
“Give me a second, and I’ll help you,” Mom calls.
“I’m fine, Mom. I’m bruised up, not paralyzed. I’m going to hop in the shower and wash away this gawd awful smell,” I gag. I don’t gag from my lingering smell; I gag as my eyes make contact with the trash can next to the vanity. It’s from the night of my accident when I came up here after the fight Wyatt and I had, and I expelled things I had no clue my stomach housed.
Mom walks in just as I’m about to throw up. Quickly, she grabs the can and removes it from my sight. I go to the sink and turn on the cold water to splash on my face, willing my stomach to settle. “Crap, I forgot to check in here. You okay?” she asks, pulling my hair back away from my face and fanning the back of my neck, just as she did when I was pregnant with Lacy.
“I will be.” I close the toilet seat and sit down. Mom grabs a washcloth and runs it under the cold water, wrings it out, kneels in front of me, and places the cool cloth to my face.
“You could’ve told me. You know that, right?”
I know I could have told her, but I was in shock. Although, I’m not sure why it shocked me so much. I know I let things between Blake and me get out of control. I can’t help but come undone at his touch.
I take her hand and place it on the side of my face. “Thank you. Thanks for accepting me despite my flaws, for always being there, even when it’s not your place. And even though I’m certain things with this pregnancy are different from last time, I’m still scared,” I confide.
She pushes my hair back away from my forehead, “Oh, honey, I know.” She kisses my cheek before standing to turn on the shower. “I know you think you can do this on your own, but I promised both Blake and Dr. Dixon I would keep a close eye on you. You know I keep my promises, so undress and hop in. I made all that’s under your clothes, so don’t be shy,” she teases.
“Ugh. Mom, did you really have to go there? You start talking about makin’ me, and I get gross images of you and Dad,” I groan.
She laughs and pulls the curtain back. “Just get in.” I do as she instructs and get into the shower.
As I lather the shampoo into my hair, I feel several places where my hair’s missing. “Holy hell! Mom, what the shit? Dr. Dixon said it wouldn’t be noticeable. Not noticeable, my ass,” I complain.
“They didn’t have a choice, love. It was you or your hair, and the hair had to go.”
“I know, but damn, this much?”
“It’s not as bad as you think. You can style your hair over it or we can take you to the salon and get you a new cut,” she concludes.
Silently, I sulk in my sadness and finish washing up. I dry off and Mom helps me dress. I carefully slip into bed and grab my ear buds, ready to listen to some soft music and doze off. Mom interrupts me before I have chance. “I’m not so sure you should use those right now. The doctors said you might be sensitive to sound over the next few days or so,” she informs.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” She eyes me scornfully, enough to make me negotiate. “Okay! I’ll only use one of them and turn the volume down to almost nothing. Is that okay with you, momma bear?”
“Fine. But I don’t want to hear you bellowing when you have a migraine that’s big as
Texas.”
I agree, and she finally leaves me be. Honestly, I don’t need a caretaker. I’m fine. My nausea is under control, thanks to the anti-nausea meds they prescribed, and I only get dizzy with quick movements, but I don’t know many people who don’t. My legs only get weak when I stand for long periods of time, and I know my body and when it’s had enough. I don’t want to be looked after or treated like a child.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Blake whispers. I open my eyes to darkness. I turn my head toward his voice and my lips brush against his.
“Hey, handsome,” I acknowledge.
“Mind if I climb in beside you?” he asks, making his way under the covers.
“Sure, but is my mom here?” I ask. Even though I’m already pregnant, my mother’s religious and doesn’t approve of us sleeping in the same bed, at least not under her roof. The bed shakes, a
nd he chuckles silently. “I remember. She’s gone into work. She knows I’m here. We made a deal that, if you’re going to stay here, then while she’s away, I’d be here whenever I can. She figured there’s not much else we can do; you’re already pregnant. She just asked me not to sleep in your bed,” he explains, nodding to a sleeping bag on the floor.
“You’re sure she’s fine with you staying in my room?” I ask curiously, only because my mom has the tendency to overreact.
“Yeah. Only because she doesn’t want me and Wyatt getting into trouble.” Of course. I forgot about Wyatt being here. I asked Mom to talk with him about getting his own place, but she insists she can’t. He’s part of the family, so she says. Fuck him. He’s no family of mine.
Fucking pussy, always running away from confrontation and ridding himself of emotion in all the wrong ways, like screwing another woman.
“Have you eaten today?” Blake asks. I replay my day and realize I haven’t eaten a single thing.
“No.” He jumps out of bed and slides his pants back on.
“Where are you going? I’m not hungry,” I assure him.
“You may not be, but the babies need nutrients and they get that from you. I’ll be back.” There’s no use in arguing with him because he thinks he knows everything, just as I do.
Minutes later, Blake returns with soup and crackers. I’m not hungry, and it’s not my first choice, but I’ll eat it if it makes him happy. I reach for the bowl, but he pulls it away from me. “You have to take this first.” He holds his hand out, and in the center of his palm is a rocket-sized pill.
“What is that?” I ask, turning my nose up and wondering which end that big bastard goes into.
“It’s your prenatal. You have to take it. It’s important for both you and the babies.”
I know what it’s good for, but I don’t remember them being the size of torpedoes. “Give it here,” I sigh. I place the vitamin on my tongue and wash it down with an entire bottle of water. “There,” I pout.
“Open up. Let me see,” he insists.
