by Kaye Kennedy
It had been so long and I feared he’d be angry with me beyond repair, but I missed him desperately and I needed to at least try. Resolving to call him that afternoon, I let out a sigh. I’d beg for his forgiveness and pray he still wanted to be my friend. As for the other stuff...well, I'd follow my gut since clearly my attempt to rationalize had gotten me nowhere.
When I'd left New York, my intention had been to take my first week, while getting acclimated to my new home, to think about what to do. I'd blocked his number so that I wouldn't be tempted to talk to him because I knew if I saw him calling, I'd pick it up and then he'd be all charming and I'd throw all reason out the window. Definitely not healthy for either of us.
But when that first week had come and gone and I hadn't gotten any closer to figuring it out, I’d started seriously doubting myself. It hadn’t helped that my roommate was a total wackadoo. She was a self-proclaimed witch who did spells and made potions. She even had a cauldron. A fucking cauldron. The creepiest part though was the voodoo doll looking thing made out of human hair. I'd literally been too scared to fall asleep for fear I'd become her experiment. To make it worse, she slept with a CPAP machine that kept me up all night because it was like sleeping next to a vacuum cleaner, so by the end of that first week I'd become a zombie.
I sank into my seat in the middle of the giant lecture hall and pulled out my notebook. Being in a class with a hundred students was taking some getting used to. College hadn't been what I'd expected. On my first day of classes, my English professor had assigned us a ten-page paper due the following week.
"Welcome to college," he'd said with a sadistic grin. My other classes weren't much lighter on the workload. I knew college would be hard, but I hadn't anticipated the workload.
My psychology professor took his place at the front of the class and began reading from his slide show presentation on various research methods. I leaned my elbow on the desk and put my chin in my hand.
"Hey, can I borrow a pen?" the guy next to me asked.
I dug into my bag and fished one out for him.
"Thanks." He smiled at me and I gave him an awkward grin back. The guy was cute with his short dark hair, tan skin, and chin dimple; under different circumstances, I probably would’ve flirted with him, but the thought of that sickened me.
Ugh, I need to talk to Kyle. I leaned my elbow on the desk and put my chin in my hand as I daydreamed about what it would’ve been like had we gone to Michigan together. Desperately, I wished that the guy beside me was my best friend. After three weeks in Michigan, I'd been so stressed out that I'd woken up nauseous and with the start of a migraine pretty much every day.
As the professor droned on, my eyelids grew heavy. It would be a miracle if I managed to stay awake. Between studying and the lack of sleep in my dorm, I really didn’t know how I was functioning. Four times in the first two weeks alone, I'd been woken up at closing time in the library by Security Steve. Not only was I not getting my studying done, but pretty much the only sleep I was getting occurred in a wooden chair with my head on a textbook. Definitely not great for my back or my neck.
Oh, and then the second week, Tyler had called to tell me that he was re-deploying to Baghdad. I'd almost broken down and called Kyle then, but I still hadn't come up with a good answer for him and frankly, I was embarrassed. Knowing full well ignoring him was childish, I’d done it anyway.
My stomach cramped, making me wince. That morning, I’d been blessed with my period so I was also crampy as hell. It was nearly two weeks late, so there was a part of me that was grateful it had finally come. I'd mostly assumed I'd been late because of the stress and all the changes, plus I'd also screwed up with taking my pills a few times, so I figured that had something to do with it, too. Besides, who gets pregnant the first time they have sex?
Halfway through the lecture, I really wasn't feeling well. While the birth control pills helped some, I still had pretty bad pain and bleeding two or three times a year. The professor asked a question and the girl behind me answered it, but I couldn’t make out their words. My skin was clammy, I was lightheaded, and my cramps were becoming severe. I whimpered.
"You okay?" the guy beside me leaned over and asked.
I pursed my lips and nodded. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself, so I had to get back to my dorm before I turned into a writhing mess. Not quite the image I wanted to start the semester off with.
My symptoms escalated quickly. Of course, I had a seat in the middle of a row, which meant sneaking stealthily out would be impossible, but I had no choice. I closed my notebook and didn't bother to waste time shoving it into my bag. I stood, feeling instantly wobbly on my feet. After four steps, I collapsed on top of another student's desk.
When I came to, I was in the back of an ambulance and vaguely coherent.
"Miss, can you hear me?" the pimply-faced medic asked.
I gulped.
"Can you tell me what happened."
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The cramping was excruciating. I rolled to my side and pulled my knees up as I grabbed my stomach. Tears fell and I reached a hand out to Kyle, but he didn’t take it. My lip quivered and I moaned. "Ky…"
"What?" the medic asked.
Right, Kyle’s not here. I sniffled. I needed him—fiercely.
"Is it your stomach?" The guy pressed on my abdomen and I wailed, nearly blacking out from the torture.
He said something, but the pain prevented me from understanding, though I thought he’d mentioned my appendix. Whatever it was, I'd never been in more agony in my entire life. While I writhed on the stretcher, my heart broke, too. Pushing Kyle away had been my own doing, so I had no right to be upset, but I was devastated.
I was rushed into the Emergency Room on a gurney and was immediately taken into one of the curtained bays. The pain made everything blurry and I heard voices murmuring. Ultrasound. Blood panel. I was hardly aware of anything being done to me. A woman spoke slowly right beside my ear, but I only caught a few words. "Pregnant…Burst...Surgery…Emergency."
Then I was being wheeled around again. Shortly after, I was sedated and no longer felt a thing. Not my stomach. Not my broken heart.
I woke up groggy and a woman hovered over me, half of her face hidden behind a surgical mask.
"Welcome back, Allison," she said.
I blinked several times. "What's happening?"
"You're waking up from surgery. Try to relax and I'll go get the doctor."
Surgery? Right. I fainted in class and then I was taken to the hospital and the pain...wait. The pain was gone.
A woman in a white coat walked in. "Allison, I'm Dr. Stein, I performed your surgery this morning."
"It's Allie." As I became more lucid, my breathing quickened and my eyes widened. "What surgery?"
Dr. Stein looked to be about my mother's age and she had a kind face and a soothing voice. "Did you know you were pregnant, Allie?"
My brows shot up. "Pregnant?"
"Yes."
"But that's not possible. I have my period. Besides, I'm on the pill and I've only ever had sex once."
No. She must be wrong.
She gave me a sad smile. "Were you taking the pill consistently at the same time every day?"
I thought back to how hectic things had been before I had left. "I might have missed a few."
She nodded. "You experienced an ectopic tubular pregnancy, which means that the embryo implanted inside your fallopian tube, causing it to rupture. Blood was leaking into your abdomen, which is why you lost consciousness and it also caused the vaginal bleeding you mistook for your period."
Pregnant? Queasiness overtook me again.
The doctor continued, "I performed what's called a laparoscopic unilateral salpingectomy. I made a few small incisions. Here, here, and here." She pointed to several places on her abdomen. "I tried to repair the tube, but too much damage had been done, so I had to remove it."
"Remove it?" I swallowe
d.
She nodded.
"So now I only have one?"
"That's correct."
My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
"While I was in there, I also noticed you have endometriosis. Did you know that?"
I grimaced. "My doctor suspected that, but I didn't know for sure."
"The only way to diagnose is through surgery. Your pregnancy allowed me to find it, so I removed some scar tissue and scraped the lining. It should lessen your pain."
Finally, some good news. "Thank you."
"There's more for us to talk about, but first is there someone I can call for you? Maybe the baby's father?"
Holy shit. Kyle would have been a dad...
I would have been a mom...
Disappointment churned within. I clenched my jaw and tried to keep from crying because, while we were too young to become parents, if I had to choose a father for my child, Kyle would've been it. Without question. "No. I'm a freshman at the university, so I don't really have anyone here. I'm from New York." The weight of Kyle’s absence crushed me again.
She pulled over a stool and sat beside me. "Allie, you need to know that this is going to affect your fertility going forward."
I jolted from the shock, but the incision pain kept me from moving further. Having children was important to me. Very important. I wanted to be a teacher because of how much I loved kids.
"When a woman ovulates, her ovaries alternate releasing an egg each cycle, which means that instead of every twenty-eight days, you'll only be fertile every fifty-six days."
I did some quick math. "So you're saying I'll only be able to get pregnant fifty-percent of the time?"
She nodded. "That's correct."
I bit my lip. Fifty-percent wasn't great, but it wasn't horrible.
"Although we also need to factor in your endometriosis."
"Oh." My chest hurt.
"Allie, with one tube that brings your chances of conceiving down to between two and five percent."
My eyes filled with water and my body went numb.
She placed her hand on my arm, but the touch barely registered. "There are things we can do. Medications, fertility treatments...and when you're ready to try and conceive again, you can work with your doctor to find the best course for you."
I bit my lip and sniffled. "Okay."
"I know this is a lot to process, but right now, let's focus on getting you better. Try to rest and I'll come check on you later. I'm very sorry for your loss."
All I could manage was a nod. Once she left, I let the tears fall. I'd lost a baby. My baby. Mine and Kyle's baby. A baby I hadn't known about...hadn't been nurturing...
But it was too late. Our baby was gone and it was all my fault.
Part II
The Present
27
Kyle
I wiped the sweat that had accumulated between my helmet and my forehead. Thanks to a manhole cover explosion, we'd spent the entire afternoon extinguishing underground fires and evacuating two city blocks. It was unseasonably hot for the end of September and the power grid had overheated causing the explosion. With these kinds of fires, we have to deal with three-hundred-pound steel disks turning into projectiles, which could easily kill or injure people. Plus, they give off high levels of carbon monoxide, so people are at risk of getting sick or worse from the poisoning.
My firehouse was on Columbus Avenue on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, so when we had incidents like this, we had to clear out multiple high-rise buildings filled with thousands of people. In order to put out the fire, we needed to cut the power, but in order to cut the power, we had to get the buildings evacuated first or the elevators wouldn’t work. Despite the risk, people are never happy about having to evacuate and they tend to take their time doing it. These incidents take several companies and dozens of firefighters out of commission for hours.
I was a lieutenant in Engine 11 (E11) and, as an engine company, our job was to put the fire out, so for three hours we camped out next to a flaming manhole, dousing it with water every so often. Definitely one of the more boring parts of the job. Lots of standing around and waiting all while citizens complained about road closures, traffic, and having to leave their homes, offices, or hotels.
As we were re-packing the hoses onto the rig, a woman shouted to get my attention. "Hey, there's some guy who needs help over here."
I pointed to one of my men. "Draper, with me for a med assist." We followed the woman down a side street and into an alley where there was a guy precariously wobbling on the ledge outside a third-story window. I hit the transmit button on my radio. "Dispatch, this is E11 I've got an EDP on a building ledge near the 10-25 we were covering. Is there still a ladder company on scene?"
"Standby E11."
I looked up at the guy. "Hey, man. What are you doing up there?"
Catching sight of me, he hollered, "Oh, you a hero! Me, too. We both heroes." He has to be on something.
"Yeah? Why are you a hero?"
"Can't say. Is a secret," he slurred.
My radio squelched and the dispatcher said, "L64 is on its way to you E11."
"10-4," I acknowledged. Ladder 64 was my brother Dylan's company, but he wasn't working that day. We often went on runs together since we were both on the Upper West Side. "Draper, go to the street and flag them down," I ordered before turning my attention back to the guy. "So you're a secret hero?"
"Yeah, dawg. I'm a superhero."
I got back on my radio. "E11 to dispatch. Can you also roll an ambulance to our location?" The likelihood of me talking the emotionally disturbed person (EDP) down would be slim since he was clearly hallucinating. This would end one of two ways. The ladder company would manage to get him down or he would fall. Either way, he needed to go to the hospital.
"10-4, E11."
"A superhero, huh?"
He laughed maniacally. "Wanna see?"
"No. You don't want to show me your powers then it won't be secret anymore."
"You right, you right."
Dodged a bullet there. I figured since he was dangling on what appeared to be a ten-inch wide decorative ledge that somewhere in his mind he thought he could fly.
"Since we're both heroes, though, I'd love to talk to you about how maybe we can work together," I said in an effort to build rapport and trust so that when we tried to grab for him he'd be more willing.
"You want me to work with you?"
"Sure, man."
"A'ight, dawg. Yeah we can do that."
The ladder truck pulled up and I heard the scraping of metal as they retrieved a ladder from the back. I shouted up to the guy. "My name is Kyle. What's yours?"
"Spiderman."
Ah, hell. Well, I was right about the flying.
"Spiderman, one of my friends is going to come up and talk to you, okay? He's cool. He's a hero, too."
Two guys from L64 carried a thirty-five foot extension ladder in my direction. I put my hand up signaling for them to stop.
Spiderman spotted them and shouted, "Need help? You gotta rescue someone?"
"Spiderman, those are my friends. They want to come up and talk to you, but they need a ladder because they don't have superpowers." I waved the guys over.
One of them, who I recognized as Keith Hart asked, "Where do you want us, Lieutenant Hogan?"
I pointed to the left of the ledge. "Put it up there. I'll keep talking to him."
Spiderman said, "Nah, dawg, I'll come down and talk." He lifted his hand like he was going to shoot out a spider web.
"No," I shouted, but he ignored me and lurched off the building.
We all hopped back to get out of the way, then there was the tell-tale splat of a body hitting pavement. I squeezed my eyes shut and mentally prepared myself for the carnage. I knelt by his side and he laughed.
How the hell did he survive a thirty-foot fall? "Draper, where's the med kit?"
"It's on the rig, Lieutenant."
"Go fucking
get it," I snapped.
While he ran back to the engine, I did a quick evaluation of the patient. He'd shattered both legs and had multiple compound fractures where the bones poked through the skin. He was also gurgling blood. I got on my radio, "Dispatch, we've got a 10-45 code 2." That let them know we had a life-threatening injury. "Spiderman, why'd you do that? We were going to come up."
"I like to fly, dawg. Web must a missed."
Draper returned with the other guys in our company along with a backboard. As an engine company, we also responded to medical calls so we had equipment on our rig, and we were all required to be Certified First Responders (CFRs) that way we could properly care for a patient before the EMT/Paramedics arrived on the ambulance.
"Eger, stabilize his head," I directed one of my guys. He pulled on medical gloves, got on his knees behind the guy's head and positioned his hands to hold it still so we could get a cervical collar on the patient.
I pulled a pair of blue medical gloves out of the med kit for myself and unwrapped a collar before guiding it around his neck. The man kept trying to move, which made things difficult. "Spiderman, I need you to stay still." It was unbelievable that he didn't seem to be in any pain. "Can you tell me what you took?"
He chuckled, coughing up blood.
I patted his pockets and found a bag with a yellowish-white powder. "Did you do bath salts, Spiderman?" I held up the bag.
"That's mine," he lurched, but we managed to hold him down.
Thankfully, the ambulance arrived and the medics took over, so we headed back to the rig. I pulled Draper aside. "When I say we're going for a med assist, what do I mean?"
"Um, medical assistance?"
"Is that a fucking question, Draper?"
He straightened his back and stood like I'd ordered him to attention. "No, Lieutenant."
"And what do you think we need for a medical assist?"
