“Come with me,” he said.
I tried to make my hands more comfortable. The policeman stopped.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing, sir, they’re just really digging into my skin,” I said.
He looked at my cuffs. “Who put these on you?”
I shrugged. I didn’t remember them going on—let alone the guy’s name.
He took them off and paused. I felt his eyes on my neck.
“Am I allowed to stretch before you put them back on?”
“Go ahead.” I thought he was going to back up a little bit but I guess not. I put my hands back behind my back. He put them on again. They felt different this time.
“Better?”
“Much, thank you,” I said. We walked into a room. I’d seen this type of room in the movies and on television shows. It was an interrogation room.
No windows.
Bright. Small. Tight.
Plastic table against a concrete wall with a fold-up chair on each side. A camera in the top right corner. It was really cold. I was shaking. I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I just hoped my dad was okay.
“Your lawyer is going to speak with you first—”
“I don’t have one,” I said.
A woman with a medium skin tone walked in. She would burn up in this cold room with what she was wearing. A button-up, a blazer, a skirt, stockings, and boots. Jesus.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Susan’s attorney, and now yours—I’m Rose Harper.”
“I’m Portia Willows.”
“I know who you are. I need you to not say anything to the police, Portia.”
“That’s fine, but where is my dad?”
“I’m going to be the attorney for both of you. I will help you both get out of this situation.”
“Okay…”
“How did you end up here, Portia?” She looked up. “Actually, don’t tell me. The less I know, the better.”
Well, that was great, because I didn’t know anything. Stupid question after stupid question, Rose Harper left. I ended up waiting a whole other hour.
I cried out for my dad. I kicked the door. I banged my head against the wall. I was so bored. I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to see Ethan and my dad. At this point, I even wanted to see my grandma, Susan, any of those damn kids.
I just wanted something to happen.
Then she opened the door—the woman who would get me out of there.
“Portia Willows?” I backed into the corner, squeezing my legs together, trying not to piss my pants, and then I slid down into the fetal position.
“I’m Elizabeth Smith, LAPD’s forensic psychiatrist.” She showed me her badge. I didn’t care. She came over to me, bent over, and wiped away one of my tears.
“I am going to take care of you.”
“And my dad?” I cried.
“Let’s go.”
I remember I looked at her like she was sent from heaven. She was so pretty, the way her bright blonde hair swayed across her face. Her eyes were strong and fierce. I trusted her immediately. I followed her out, looking for my dad in every window. I got in the back of a police car, handcuffed, she was in the front seat.
“Wait…wait...if you’re taking me home, we have to wait for my dad,” I said.
The driver was about to speak, but Elizabeth stopped him, “ Unfortunately, Portia, you can’t go home. You’re still under arrest, but I’m going to take you somewhere you need to be.”
“Home?” I asked.
She chuckled, as if I’d made a joke. I was serious.
“It’s a hospital, okay? Your dad will meet us there. He already knows.”
“Okay. I don’t care where you take me as long as my dad knows. I’m okay.”
It felt good to be out of jail.
“When do I get my phone call?”
“When you get booked.”
“What does that mean?”
“You aren’t booked because you haven’t been charged with anything yet,” she said.
“Is my dad booked?”
“I have no idea.”
“My attorney, Susan’s friend, is probably with him. I hope he gets his phone call. One of us needs to call Ethan,” I said.
“What makes you think he’ll call Ethan?”
“Ethan lives across the street and I’m with him all the time. We’ve been together for three years.”
“That’s nice! So, you think Ethan will know what happened since you don’t remember?”
“Exactly. He always knows what to do.”
I fell asleep. Don’t ask how I could in the back of a police car with handcuffs on and my dad not being by my side, but I did. I was exhausted.
I didn’t just fall asleep. I had horrible visions—nightmares—whatever. I kept seeing my mom’s dead face. I tried to shake it off, but then I would see Piper’s face in her coffin at the funeral. Then I would see my dad’s face, as if he had died, too. I screamed to wake myself up.
“Portia. Portia. It’s just a dream.”
I woke up, but not to Elizabeth, all I saw was blood and a baby crying. It was freaking me out. Someone was trying to wake me up and I was trying to wake up, but I felt trapped in this nightmare.
“Portia. We’re here. Wake up.”
A woman was shaking me.
My hands were cuffed. I started screaming, trying to shake the handcuffs off.
What’s happening? Where am I?
I started rocking. She grabbed both of my arms and pinned me down to the back of the car.
Holy shit. I was in a police car.
The policeman jumped out and drew his gun.
“Stand down. I’ve got this. Portia, look at me. Look at me,” she tried to out-scream me. “We made it. We’re here. You are okay.” She was really close to my face, looking into my eyes. I couldn’t look at her or anything else. She smiled and held up keys to unlock my handcuffs.
I shook with pure fear.
“Who are you?”
Now, here we were, still sitting in the same room I had been brought into.
“It was great that you just remembered all of that. It helped out a lot,” Elizabeth said.
“Well, obviously not that much since I still don’t know what happened. This baby keeps popping up in my head.” She looked up at me from her paper.
“Do you remember when you first went to the hospital?”
“Yeah, when I was six. Piper—”
“No. Since your family died.”
“Oh. I haven’t.”
“You don’t remember Ethan taking you to UCLA?”
“The school? He took me all the time. He started going there. I got more comfortable at the campus. We even took a class together. I couldn’t believe it.”
“What class was it?”
“Some childhood development class? I don’t know.”
“So you don’t remember going to the hospital at all within the last three years? You never went to the hospital because you were sick?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. I knew she wanted me to remember something, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said.
“You mean, leave this room? Yes, please.” I jumped up.
“I want you to tell me about the first time Ethan took you to the hospital.”
I laughed. “Ethan never took me to the hospital.”
“He did. He took you to the hospital more than fifteen times over the past few years.”
“What? Why?” I was taken back.
“You can remember. I know you can. We just need something to help you,” she said. We walked down the hospital hallways. It wasn’t the same hospital my dad was in after the accident. It wasn’t like the hospitals on TV either. The rooms seemed more…permanent. There wasn’t much staff running around in the hallways. There was nothing about this place that looked
familiar to me. It was definitely not going to bring up memories.
“Are you saying Ethan brought me here before?”
“No, this is a mental institution. Once we’re done, you will be staying here until your trial.”
This is a psych ward?
I was here because I was crazy.
“Trial?” What? I thought this was my punishment. There was a possibility I could really go to jail. What could they possibly be charging me for?
“I need you to remember something super important,” she said.
“For my trial?”
“Yes.” She had a recorder in her hand as we were walking, like I was supposed to say the magic words to get me free.
I wished she would just tell me what she wanted me to say.
We went into the waiting room and there was a lady with a badge standing to my right with a toddler. It was the baby from my visions, but a little older. There were a couple paramedics at the reception area, too. I only noticed the toddler because Elizabeth looked over there first.
“Why did you bring me to this hospital? What’s going on?” My heart stared to constrict. Fear was slowly rushing in.
“Because this hospital will play a pivotal role in your trial. You are not well,” she said.
“Mama…” I heard her from beside me.
Oh my God.
I immediately turned around and ran to the voice.
Her voice. So small. So pure. So innocent.
Pypes.
The lady let her go and she ran to me. I picked her up and squeezed the life out of her. All the memories came rushing back. I cried so hard into Pypes’s little shoulders as I swung her around.
“I had a daughter.”
I looked over at Elizabeth.
She smiled at me.
Two and a Half Years Ago
The emergency room had to take the cake on the most uncomfortable public place in world history, especially when I was feeling fine.
“You’ve never been to the emergency room before?” Ethan asked me, like it was normal for someone to be sent here.
“I never went out, so I didn’t get hurt,” I said.
“You never got hurt in your house or at school?”
“Nope. Never even broken a bone.”
While we were waiting, we talked.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked, but I was too distracted looking at all these people that were apparently here for a real emergency. They all looked fine to me. There was a little girl curled up in her mom’s lap. That made me shiver.
“Babe?”
“What?”
“Your favorite color? Is it black?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Knew it.”
“Yours?” I wasn’t in the mood for making conversation, but his voice helped me relax. My eyes still wandered to everything that was going on around me—like the receptionist being a bitch to people demanding information.
“Green. What are you looking at?”
“Are you sure we’re in the emergency room?” I whispered to him. He turned my head to the big red sign that read Emergency Room.
“I don’t think anyone here has an emergency.”
“Shh…” He put his hand on my knee. I never thought I would ever get shushed. Ever. I was the one who usually shushed people. It didn’t sit right with me. I nudged my knee away from him and scooted an inch away from him.
“I want to go home.”
“We already filled out all the paperwork. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to be here,” I said.
“You were fine five minutes ago.”
“And now I’m not, Ethan.” My tone rose to a higher pitch. I looked around and saw a couple people were staring at me. I looked down and started shaking.
“Portia Willows,” I heard someone say. Thank God. I walked quickly over to the nurse and we went to a room with a scale and a bed inside.
“May 1, 1992?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Have a seat.”
I sat down. She shined a light in my eyes. She was moving so fast. Ethan hadn’t even told her what was wrong with me yet. While she was measuring my heart rate she asked, “What brings you in today?”
“She passed out earlier,” Ethan said.
No, I didn’t.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
“This morning.”
“How much water do you drink?”
“She has a social anxiety problem. It’s not unusual for her to have panic attacks in public places. This was…scarier. I was just worried if there was something going on that was making it worse for her. She’s been getting better,” Ethan told her. I stared at Ethan while he stuttered, explaining. The lady just stared blankly. No expression at all.
“Are you on any medication?” she asked me.
I shook my head.
“Pee in this cup, but it’s most likely just the disorder. We have brochures for mental health at reception,” she said.
I nodded as I took the cup into the bathroom. How was I supposed to pee in this cup? I didn’t have to pee. Ethan kept talking to her. I couldn’t make out what he was saying—something about my dad? I couldn’t hear her. Maybe she wasn’t talking back? I put my ear against the door.
“Like I said, referrals are at the front desk. We only deal with emergencies here,” the lady said back to him.
“Okay, thanks,” he said, and they stopped talking.
That was when I felt the pressure—I got a little out. Hopefully, it would be enough. I opened the door and handed her the cup.
“I’m also going to run a mandatory pregnancy test, okay?”
I nodded, and she left.
“What were you guys talking about?”
“Just asking if there was anything else she could do,” he said.
“What do you expect? Dying people are coming here to be saved. I’m not dying. I don’t need to be saved.” I kissed him on the cheek.
“Well…sorry…this was a big waste of our time.”
“At least I’m okay.”
“Yeah…” he said, and put his arm around my neck and kissed my head. We were both smiling when she came back in with a piece of paper in her hand.
“Did you know you were pregnant?”
I didn’t understand what she’d said until I felt Ethan’s hand leave my shoulder. I froze. Nothing came out.
“Are you sure?” Ethan grabbed the paper.
“I wish I could sit here and talk about your options but there are a lot of people waiting…congratulations.”
Ethan slowly walked out of the room ahead of me. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the paper. He wouldn’t even look at me. At the time, I didn’t really believe it. Doctors made mistakes like this all the time.
There was no possible way. Was there?
“You didn’t say anything the whole way home,” I said as we pulled up in front of my house. I was still in denial. I would have laughed if it weren’t for Ethan’s face. He looked so confused. What did he expect? He didn’t wrap it up. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I hated that feeling more than anything.
“This can’t be happening.”
“I was so careful. I was so fucking careful.” Ethan’s tone was so harsh I jumped in my own seat. I guess this was real. Ethan never cussed.
“No, you weren’t.”
“I always pulled out.” He sounded so defensive.
“We only did it like five times,” I said.
It was slowly starting to hit me. I needed to make sense of it. I thought back to every time we’d had sex.
How did this happen?
“All right…um…” He took a deep breath.
Neither of us wanted to leave the car.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” My chest started closing in. I couldn’t hold it in. I broke down crying. “Oh God. Oh God. I’m…I’m…what the fuck.”
<
br /> I felt like throwing up.
“I need a cigarette,” I choked out.
“Tell me about it.” Ethan grabbed the cigarettes, put one in his mouth, and then handed one to me. I moved my hand to grab it but he pulled it away from me.
“What?” I asked.
“Shit.”
He looked down at the cigarette.
“Fuck,” he said.
I closed my eyes and tears started to stroll down my face. I got out of the car and slammed the door. I heard him follow me.
“Hey, look at me.”
I didn’t want to. I didn’t even want to look at myself. I turned around and dried my tears.
“Get some sleep tonight. We’re going to talk about this tomorrow, okay?”
I nodded.
He hugged me. I didn’t let go. A part of me was happy because he was hugging me.
But he was going to walk away after this.
In the movies, the guys never come back.
“Can we tell our parents together?”
He nodded.
“They do that in the afterschool specials,” I said.
“This isn’t an afterschool special. This is real life,” he told me as he wiped my tears away.
“Do you still love me?” My voice choked up as tears rolled right over his fingers.
“Of course, baby. We’re going to figure this out. I’m not going anywhere,” he said, and we kissed. I trusted him as he walked across the street, but I was still more scared than I’d ever been in my life.
I didn’t want to check on my dad. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t even want to see him. I had a lot of homework to do, but all I wanted to do was sleep, wake up, and pretend that tonight didn’t happen.
The next morning, I got up early. For the first five minutes, I forgot about yesterday, but as I was walking down the hallway to wake up my dad, it hit me. I stopped dead in my tracks. I put my hand on my stomach and shook my head. I felt tears start to form, but I had to shake them off.
“Hey, Dad.” He was already up in his room getting dressed. I just stared at him.
I should tell him. I should tell him right now.
“Hey, buddy,” he said. “You okay?” He noticed.
“Yeah, is there coffee?”
“Yup.”
I went down into the living room and sat next to him. I kept glancing at him while I did my homework. I really wanted to say it—just blurt it out—but I was terrified. I kept thinking about what Piper would say. Mom would kill me in a heartbeat. Piper would tell me exactly what to do. I had always thought that if I got pregnant too young, I would get an abortion. There would be no way I would “just figure it out” like so many girls did on Sixteen and Pregnant. Now that it was really happening, though, I didn’t have my mother or my sister. Things were so different, I didn’t know what to think. When I tried to wrap my head around this, I gave myself a headache.
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