Cassia Leo - Abandon

“Where is she?”

The nurse looks confused. “Hmm … They must have moved her.”

She turns around and heads back toward the nurses’ station. “Why would they move her? Is she okay? What does her file say?”

She looks at the file in her hand and flips through a couple of pages. “She was unconscious when she came in. She presented with what looks like a broken finger and a pretty bad laceration and contusion on the back of her head.”

“And the baby?”

“She’s pregnant?”

“Yes! I thought I told you that.”

“No, you said you were her husband, but you never said she was pregnant.”

She power-walks the rest of the way to the nurses’ station and types something on her computer. When she finds the information she’s looking for, she dials a number on the desk phone.

“Yes, please let Dr Vartanian know that the patient is pregnant. Yes, thank you.” She turns to me before I can say anything. “They stitched up her head, but it’s lucky you got here when you did. They were about to give her a CAT scan. They’ll have to examine her first; make sure the baby’s okay.”

“When will I hear from them? Can I go there to be with her?”

“You can wait in the waiting room right outside there and I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

I heave a deep sigh because I don’t want to believe the words I’m about to say. “My grandmother is in ICU – Florence Pollock. You can reach me in her room.”

I trudge through the hospital corridors, feeling so completely broken, it doesn’t even occur to me that I won’t find Elaine here. Grandma and the steady sound of air being pushed in and out of her lungs are the only things to keep me company now. Elaine must have gone to pick up Molly. I text Molly to make sure she’s okay, and she texts me back right away to say that Jackie never answered so she ran to the hospital right behind me. She’s just walking through the parking lot now.

I shake my head at her defiance as I take a seat in the chair next to Grandma’s bed. I can still feel the blood pulsing in my legs from the run over here. Stroking the soft skin on her arm, I try to think of something to say to her. What do you say to the person you never properly thanked for saving your life?

“Grandma?” I whisper. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I want you to know that I’m sorry I didn’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me and Molly. I wish I would have told you this before I left to Vegas yesterday, but you’re the best mom I could have ever asked for. You made me believe that people could be good; that life could be good. You taught me that hard work isn’t always fun, but it always pays off.”

The beeping of the machine next to me is soothing as I think of my favorite memory of Grandma. “Remember my ninth birthday? We had just moved down here from Maine and, man, the weather is so much hotter here in August than it is over there. You invited a bunch of the neighborhood kids – kids I didn’t even know – and we all played hide-and-seek in the backyard for hours. When it was time for the cake, you told me I had to count to three before I made a wish. And you know what I wished for? You’ll get a kick out of this. I wished for Molly to stop throwing up on me.”

I whip my head around at the sound of footsteps. It’s Molly, and Elaine is standing at the doorway. Molly closes the door on Elaine and I’m so thankful for Molly’s strength.

Tears stream down her face as she pulls up a chair next to me. “Did I stop barfing on you?”

I wrap my arm around her and she rests her head on my shoulder. “Yeah, you did, but I think it had more to do with the fact that Grandma knew how to take better care of you.” But that didn’t stop me from believing that counting to three was the secret to making all my wishes come true.

When I walk into Senia’s room, she’s awake and staring at the ceiling. She tries to turn her head at the sound of my voice, but the pain stops her. I rush to her side and I don’t care if she can see the tears in my eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper as I lean in to kiss her forehead. “I’m so sorry I left you behind.”

I grab her hand and she squeezes it against her chest. “The baby’s gone.”

“I know.” I smooth her dark hair away from her face and kiss her forehead again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

She shakes her head and more tears slip loose from the corners of her eyes. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have worn those stupid heels.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.” I squeeze her hand and clench my jaw as I try to stay strong for her.

“Where did you go?” she whispers. “Where’s Molly?”

“Baby, I need to tell you something.” Her eyes squeeze shut and I lean in to kiss the tears on her temple. “I need to tell you everything.”

And I tell her everything; so much more than I told Molly. I want her to know the darkest parts of me, because those are the parts that will make her want to leave. When I’m done, her nails are digging into my hand. I gently pry her fingers loose and brush the tears from her cheeks.

“I always thought that if anyone knew the truth, if anyone knew the real me, and the things I’m capable of, no one would love me, and what’s the point of letting someone fall in love with a lie. So it was easy – I never fell in love and I never spoke to anyone about it until today. I never had a reason to. But you give me so many reasons to do things I never thought I could do. I just want to be better for you. I want to be better in your eyes.”

“I hate that bitch now and I’m so sorry I questioned you when you left.” I chuckle a little at this passionate response, but Senia’s face is full of anguish. “Now I know why you go from perfect to jerk in two seconds flat. But I’m sorry I ever doubted you. And I’m sorry if I ever doubt you in the future. I’m sure this will come as a total surprise to you, but I’m not perfect either. I mean, I’m practically defective now.”

“You’re not defective. Your CAT scan said your head was still perfect.” I brush my thumb across her cheekbone and she latches onto my hand. “Perfect in every way.”

“I’m not talking about my head,” she says, heaving a deep, exhausted sigh.

“I know. But you didn’t lose the baby because you’re defective. It happened because life isn’t perfect. Not you.”

“Lie with me?”

It takes me a moment to figure out how to lower the side rail on her bed, then she carefully turns onto her side so I can scoot in next to her. She lays the side of her head on my chest as I wrap my arm around her shoulders. I stroke her arm for a while, trying to pretend I can’t hear her crying.

“I had names picked out already.”

“What names?”

“Kalen for a girl and Cross for a boy.”

“I like Kalen, but I can’t agree to Cross.”

She breathes in deeply and I can feel the trembling in her chest against my chest. “What boys’ names do you like?”

“I was kind of hoping we could have a Junior.”

“But that’s so cliché.”

“And Cross is not a cliché? Didn’t you say you were reading a book with a character named Cross? We’re not naming our kids after characters.”

“Didn’t your mom name you after Tristan and Isolde?”

“That doesn’t count. Our son will be named Tristan. That is my only request.”

She’s silent for a moment before she speaks again. “How’s your grandma?”

I tighten my grip on her shoulder as I think of what the doctor told me shortly before I came in here. “The doctor said that he doesn’t think she’s going to come off the respirator soon; or, possibly, at all. And … and even if she does come off, she’ll be in a lot of pain.”

Senia uses the sheet to wipe the tears from her face this time. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

“We have to find her will tomorrow. I’m pretty sure that she’s specified she doesn’t want to stay on any kind of life support. She told us she wants to go quietly. But I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

The pain wells up inside me and I try my hardest not to conjure up images in my mind of a life without Grandma Flo.

“I don’t know what this will do to Molly,” I continue. “I don’t know how I’m going to take care of her for the next five years until she becomes an adult. I don’t know the first thing about raising a teenager.”

“You’ll figure it out. You didn’t know anything about playing the bass when Chris came to you and asked if you wanted to start a band, and look at you now.”

I grab her hand and bring it to my lips. Her fingers smell like antibacterial hand soap. I hold the backs of her fingers against my cheek to feel the softness of her skin, then I lay a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

“What am I going to do with you? You always know what to say. You’re always outsmarting me.”

She finally lets go a small chuckle, which is quickly followed by a small whimper. “You did beat me at hide-and-seek,” she replies, her voice once again muffled by grief. Then she squeezes out a few words that are completely unrelated and totally unexpected. “I thought when I told you I was pregnant, you would tell me to get lost.”

I want to ask her why she would think that, but, if I were her, I would have thought the same thing about me five weeks ago. I would not have imagined myself inviting a pregnant girl to live with me and I definitely would never have imagined myself confessing my love to her and talking about weddings.

She clutches the front of my shirt in her fist. “I thought when you found out about the baby today, you’d leave me here alone.”

“What? I … don’t even know what to say to that. You thought I’d just abandon you like that?”