I reach inside Jennifer’s purse and pull out her phone. I really don’t know what to say so I hand the phone over to my mom and she looks up the number to call Jennifer’s parents. My mom explains to them everything she knows up until now and as soon as the nurse comes back out, she will call them back with an update. In the meantime, both of her parents are getting ready to make the drive here.
I stand up and walk to the water fountain. I’m not thirsty, but I need to occupy my mind. It seems like forever before a nurse comes to the waiting room and informs us that Jennifer is indeed having contractions and the baby will be here shortly. The doctor has been notified and she’ll be here within the hour. The nurse says we may visit with Jennifer in the labor room one at a time and I quickly ask for directions how to get there. My parents are escorted to another waiting room on the second floor of the hospital while the nurse takes me the back way to the employee set of elevators. She senses my anxiety and explains to me this way will get us to her quicker than the other elevator.
Once we exit the elevator, the nurse walks me to a labor and delivery area and tells me which room Jennifer is in. I waste no time walking in to see her.
Jennifer is wearing one of those un-fashionable hospital gown and seems to be somewhat relaxed despite the pain from earlier. She explains how they have given her something to help with the contractions and she’s being monitored closely. Once the doctor comes in to examine her, she’ll have a better update.
I let her know if she needs anything, I am here to get her whatever it may be. I also let her know her parents are on their way and my parents are also waiting out in the lobby. I reach for her hand and tell her I am proud of her and everything’s going to be okay. I pull her hand up to my lips and place a gentle kiss there. I would love to be able to offer her something else to show my support, maybe a kiss on the cheek or even a hug, but I feel this is probably safer and I hesitate before letting her hand go. I believe she senses something as well because her eyes show me something I have not seen from her before. I smile and assure her she and the baby are going be just fine. She returns my smile and for a moment our eyes are locked together. I feel something is there for sure. A knock on the door separates us and the doctor walks in. Introductions are made and I step from the room to give her privacy while the doctor does her examination.
Several hours pass and I realize I need to start looking for a place to sleep tonight. I’ve got about a quarter of a tank of gas left thanks to the gas container I swiped earlier from a truck parked in a fast food parking lot. I should have thought of doing this a long time ago as it would have definitely save me some money on gas.
I stopped by a pawn shop just outside of town and the guy working behind the counter laughed at me when I pulled out the jewelry collection I had stuffed in my pocket. I held the bracelet I gave to Jennifer for Christmas in my hand and hesitated before shoving it back into my pocket. I couldn’t bring myself to place it on the counter with the other jewelry. It was the one thing I gave to her that truly meant something to the both of us.
I managed to get fifty bucks for everything else and the guy informed me that was being generous on his part. I didn’t feel like arguing with him; fifty bucks was fifty bucks more than what I came in here with. I couldn’t really afford to negotiate with him too much so I took the cash and walked out. If any of the jewelry had been worth anything, he might have gotten suspicious and reported me to the authorities. I hated having to show identification, but it was standard procedure for most pawn shops these days.
I couldn’t actually bring myself to drive too far out of town just yet. For one thing, something in my gut told me Jennifer wasn’t that far away. Then again, I really have no leads and don’t know where to even start looking.
There’s no moon shining tonight so when the sun went down, it got dark pretty quickly. I’m not for sure where I am right now, but I remember seeing a bar a couple miles back up the highway so I turn around and head back that way. When I reach the parking lot, I realize it’s more like a motorcycle club judging from all the bikes parked outside. Whatever is going on inside must be pretty important because there are more than a hundred bikes parked out here. I pull through the lot and drive around back looking for a place to park the car that won’t draw any attention. If nothing else, maybe I can get in a couple hours sleep then be on my way.
I pull behind a garbage dumpster that sits off the main building, figuring I’ll be safe here. I have the urge to pee so I step out of the car and walk as close to the dumpster as I can while holding my breath. I hear music coming from inside the bar but I have no idea what it is. The smell is terrible so I take care of business as quickly as possible. When I get back in the car, I realize I can’t stay this close to the dumpster and have my windows cracked for fresh air. So I pull the car up closer to the main building. It’s still relatively early for a Friday night and I cross my fingers I’m able to fall asleep before everyone starts leaving for the night. I bet these joints don’t start closing down until two or three o’clock in the morning.
I’m not sure what time it is, but I’m awakened from the sound of gunshots being fired, then screams. I sit up in the seat and notice people are running all through the parking lot. I’m not sure what to make of everything going on. While no one really looks to be leaving, it appears as though little groups are clustering around their bikes waiting for what ever happened inside to be over so they can resume their night.
There are men and women of all ages, some wearing leather and some are not. Most everyone has on biker boots of some type and they all have their hair either braided in one long single braid or their head is wrapped in a bandana. I’m amazed at how many people are congregating in the parking area.
Moments later, I hear the sound of sirens. As the sirens get closer and closer, no one is leaving. Two cop cars followed by an ambulance pull into the lot and stop in front of the main doorway. A few minutes later, two more cop cars pull in and I’m able to read from the inscription on their cars that they belong to deputy sheriffs.
With all of this excitement, I know it will be awhile before things settle back down again. So, I figure it’s probably best if I leave and try to find someplace else. I really don’t want to get caught up in whatever is happening here. I pull through the parking lot trying to find a way out to the road without getting in the middle of the cops and rescue workers, but it appears there’s only one way in and out.
A sheriff walks over to my car when he notices that I’m trying to leave.
“Going somewhere?” He asks.
“Yeah, I’m just leaving. Didn’t want to be in the way of whatever seems to be going on.” I’m not sure this was the right thing to say because the next thing I know the sheriff has his flashlight pulled out and is shining it around inside my car. Great!
“Son, can you pull your car over there please?” He uses his flashlight to point towards an empty spot. “I’d like to take a look inside your car.”
“What? What do you mean? Look inside my car? I just pulled over to take a leak man. I don’t know nothing about this damn place.” I try to persuade the officer.
“Please pull your car over sir.” He directs me again, this time he says something into the radio that’s clipped to his shoulder strap. I’m unable to make out what he’s saying but I can tell by his tone that he’s serious about wanting to search my car.
I do as he instructs and pull into the vacant spot. I’m pissed at myself now for picking this damn place to stop. How the hell was I supposed to know things were going to get out of control?
I step out of the car and the officer instructs me to walk to the back of my car and place my hands on top of the trunk with my legs spread apart. One officer helps himself to the contents of my car, while the other officer stands behind me just waiting for me to say or do something out of line.
I want to say something but figure it’s probably best if I keep my mouth shut. I don’t have anything to hide and there’s nothing i
n the car so it’s just a matter of time before they cut me loose. The joke will be on them. It just pisses me off they feel they need to search me and my car all because I was trying to leave. The officer who rambled through my car approaches me and asks for my identification. I pull my wallet from my back pants pocket and hand my license over to him. He walks over to the patrol car and I break out in a cold sweat. I’ve stayed out of trouble ever since I arrived in this town so surely there is nothing from back home that’s still on my record. And even then, if I had kept my mouth shut instead of trying to be a smart ass, I probably would not have spent those few nights in jail, but I always try to have the last say so in any situation. That was over a year ago and I’ve been clean ever since.
I notice a small crowd has gathered around curious as to what is going on with me instead of the earlier commotion that started this whole fiasco. For once, I feel embarrassed because I haven’t done anything wrong.
It feels like I’ve been leaning up against the car forever when the officer finally exits his car. He walks over to the other officer who has been watching me and says something to him. I watch in slow motion as he reaches behind him and pulls his handcuffs from the holder attached to his belt. The officer approaches me and I can’t believe what is happening.
The taller officer of the two starts reading me my rights while the other one starts placing the handcuffs around my wrists. Instead of resisting, I just want to fall down to my knees and scream. “Why me? What have I done this time?” But I do as they both say and walk with them to the backseat of the patrol car. I have no fight in me anymore. I feel drained, emotionally and physically.
I estimate the ride to the police station takes about fifteen minutes. I’m escorted inside and the process of booking me gets underway. I’m questioned by several people about who I am, where I’m from, why I’m here. Nothing makes any sense because I thought they brought me in due to whatever happened back at the bar.
When I verify my residence as that of the apartment complex, the officer asks me if I was planning on returning there tonight. I realized now that this has nothing to do with the bar brawl, but about the apartment and the way I left it. I bet someone filed charges against me. And, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time tonight. Shit!
The officer asks if I have an attorney I’d like to call. I nod my head no. Hell, I can barely afford to pay for any food much less a damn lawyer. Does he think I keep one on speed-dial? What the hell have I gotten myself into now? He instructs me that one will be appointed to me and that I’ll be staying in a holding room for the night. The attorney should make his rounds mid-morning and if I have no further questions for them, I’ll be escorted out now.
I cooperate and figure there’s no sense in fighting.
The next morning, I eat the measly meal they provide and do everything according to their instructions. If I do what they tell me and the attorney is able to pull some strings, maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
About ten thirty in the morning, an officer comes to escort me to a conference room. Introductions are made between me and the court appointed attorney. I’m expecting to see some short, dumpy man with a mismatched suit and receding hairline, but the person sitting at the table before me doesn’t fit that description at all. In fact, she’s nothing like what I was expecting. That’s right, I said she.
According to the introductions, I’m going to be working with Connie Parker. Ms. Parker is probably five foot seven; I couldn’t tell if she was wearing heels or not since she is on the opposite side of the table from me when she stood to shake my hand. He chestnut brown hair is long and almost to her waist. She has on a fair amount of make-up that accentuates her outfit of tan slacks and a simple white button up shirt. I notice her shirt is stretched tight across her breasts and I can’t help but take in the cleavage that shows from the top two buttons being undone. I wonder if she had any idea she was going to be working with a twenty-two year old who’s been sexually deprived since his wife bailed out on him weeks ago. I need to stop but I can’t help it when I’m face to face with an attractive woman.
Ms. Parker appears to be in her late twenties maybe, but there’s no way she could be more than thirty-one or thirty-two. She doesn’t have on any jewelry, wedding band included, other than a silver banded watch. I wonder if she’s single or did she have one of those mornings where she walked out of the house without her jewelry and now feels naked? I’ve heard women make that statement many times. Her nails appear to be well taken care of but they are completely natural, no nail polish or artificial tips.
Once we are beyond the hand shake and name exchanges, we both sit down across from each other and waste no time getting down business. Ms. Parker begins to ask me a series of questions similar to those of the officer from last night. There’s no sense in lying about anything so I tell her everything as truthfully as I can. She explains to me that I was arrested due to a warrant being issued for me. The management of the apartment complex filed charges against me due to all of the damages made inside the apartment. Honestly, I feel they probably carried this a little too far, but I guess if I were the owners I’m sure I would feel the same if I walked into the mess I had left behind. They feel I am responsible for having the repair work done and with all due respect, I should be held liable. I really don’t have any ground to stand on and don’t dispute that I did indeed do the damage.
Ms. Parker listens to everything I have to say and sounds genuinely concerned about everything I’ve been through. I glance at the clock above the door frame and see she and I have been talking for over an hour now. She’s been steadily taking notes on her legal pad only asking for clarification on a few things.
“Well, Brian, if you don’t have any more you would like to add, I’ll say this about does it for the day. I’ll be back in touch with you soon.” She says to me.
“Wait, there is one more thing.” I say to her. I wasn’t able to sleep once they brought me in here so I had a lot of time to do some serious thinking. I’m tired of making things hard on me and everyone else.”
I pause for a moment, almost shocked to hear the words I’m saying.
“As I mentioned to you earlier, I was recently served divorce papers. Looking back at my relationship, I know neither of us were ready for marriage or even a relationship for that matter, especially me. Look at me. I don’t have a damn thing to offer anyone, including myself. I can’t keep a job. My parents don’t want me coming back. I’m a failure and can blame no one but myself. Can you see to it that I get another copy of those divorce papers? I don’t want to make this a long drawn out legal battle with Jennifer. She didn’t deserve any of this. I never should have put her through this hell in the first place. I’m paying the price right now for being an idiot and there’s no sense in dragging her down too. I want to sign the papers and let her be free to live her life.”
“Mr. Collins, I’ll do my best to see about getting those papers for you.” She stands up and shakes my hand again. “I’ll be in touch.” And with that, she turns towards the doorway, mashes the buzzer on the wall, and the door is opened by an officer who escorts her out.
I sit back down in the chair and place my elbows on the table. I lean my chin down into the palms of my hands and let out a deep breath. I know in my heart that I’m doing the right thing. I don’t deserve to be a husband or a father.
Two months later …
So much has happened in my life these last few weeks. My baby girl Chloe has been home with me for three weeks now and I’m still adjusting to this sleep pattern we are on. For the first few nights she was home, I couldn’t leave her side, afraid she may stop breathing or I might not hear her cry. The first six weeks of her life she stayed in the hospital until she was healthy enough to come home. She was behind on a few things since she decided to enter the world earlier than planned, but in the meantime, staying in the hospital got her around the clock support from all of the nurses and hospital staff. She began to gradually
put on weight and the doctors assured me she would be just fine. A year from now, no one would ever know she was born early.
Of course, being a new mother, I absorbed every word they told me and tried to make sure I did everything correctly so that Chloe would be fine. My mother told me not to worry so much that she was receiving the best of care. Lots of babies are born premature, but once they are older, you’ll never be able to tell the difference. And so far, everything my mother told me has been true. Now that we are home, Chloe has started to grow into her newborn clothes and has even moved up to the next size in diapers. My mother and Beth have been angels.
My parents parked their camper a week earlier than they had anticipated but it’s not like they are really on a schedule anyway. Dad and Rick Williams seemed to hit it off really well and spent a lot of time together playing golf and even doing some fishing when Rick’s schedule would allow it. I could tell from the time he was able to spend with my dad that he was seriously considering retiring from the pharmacy instead of just cutting back on his hours. He just needed Todd to finish with his classes and pass the state test so he could take over full-time.
Since there was very little I could do in the beginning because my body was still healing from just giving birth, I mostly hung out at the hospital as much as they would allow me. Both my mom and Beth took turns staying with me as well just so I wouldn’t go crazy. There’s only so much you can do every day and there was very little time I could actually spend holding Chloe. I finally gained the confidence I needed to put my trust with the hospital staff and cut my visits down to only an hour or two each day.
Never Look Back (Coming Home Book 2) Page 11
