Page 45 of Counting Backwards

With Dalia’s words, I thought of the nurse at Hydeford. I had been meaning to track down the woman, but I’d gotten so caught up in the meeting with Jacinta and everything it revealed. Dalia was right though: The nurses always had the inside scoop. That woman at Hydeford clearly wanted to help. Otherwise, she never would have given me the note. I needed to find her again to see what else she was willing to share.

“Right, Jess?” Vance said.

“Sorry, what?” I hadn’t heard anything over the din of my thoughts.

“That a nurse with Dalia’s character traits will always be in demand.” They all looked at me expectantly.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” That was a no-brainer. Dalia had an indescribable quality that made people want to share all their burdens with her because they somehow knew instinctively that she would do her very best to take care of them. “If all healthcare workers were as kind and selfless as Dalia, this world would be a much better place.”

As we drove back toward Manhattan, this time with me at the wheel and Vance in the passenger seat, my thoughts felt like a collection of Ping-Pong balls bouncing in every direction. I had so many ideas and new questions as I considered how the nurse from the detention facility might be able to assist with the case. I tried to corral my herky-jerky thoughts and started to create an interview outline in my head. I wanted to know how long Hydeford had been using Dr. Choudry, whether Choudry was the only doctor performing gynecological surgeries for residents of the facility, if the sterilizations were openly discussed among supervisors or staff, and whether other medical abuses were being perpetrated on the incarcerated women. The list went on and on.

“I can smell those fumes,” Vance said, interrupting my internal deliberations. “Just say it and get it over with.” The edge had returned to his voice.

“Get what over with?” I glanced over at him and saw that his expression was strained, the corners of his mouth tilting down so pointedly that they were almost cartoonish. Turning my eyes back to the road, I told him, “I honestly have no idea what you’re even talking about right now.”

“You’re just going to get more upset if you keep it inside, and I have too much work waiting at home to deal with this later. So go ahead, spill.”

I started to worry he was talking about what Gram told me, that he could tell I was keeping something important from him. When I stalled, he said, “So you’re not upset about Dalia and Yuval? It didn’t bother you that they have another kid on the way?”

“Well, apparently it botheredyou.”

I leaned forward to punch the dial on the radio, and “Uptown Girl” came bursting through the speakers. I turned the knob to the right, raising the volume to drown out further conversation. I raised my eyebrows at Vance, who leaned his head back against the headrest and shut his eyes in frustration.

For the first time in a long time, I was focused on something other than getting pregnant—and I wanted to keep it that way. The questions I’d been asking myself about Hydeford were important, and I was trying to concentrate. Having to manage Vance’s emotions on top of everything else required bandwidth I just didn’t have. Let him stew in his own anger and resentment, so long as he kept quiet and let me think. I was finally feeling the smallest flicker of hope for the Hydeford case, and that was where my focus needed to be. Vance, and his ever-present need to be in charge, could wait.

***

A few days later, I was back at the detention facility. As I waited for Isobel in one of the private meeting rooms, I arranged my memo pad and pen on one side of the long white table. Then I walked back toward the closed door, peering out from the little glass window in its center. I was hoping for a glimpse of the blond nurse, an opportunity to get her full name at least, but the hallway was empty.

I stuck to my post by the door, shifting from one foot to the other as I waited. I reached up to the small silver hoop in my right ear, a modest, discreet piece of jewelry that I thought was appropriate for today’s meeting, and pushed the backing more firmly into place. My eagerness to find the nurse was coming out in my every nervous fidget.

A moment later, Isobel rounded the corner with an unfamiliar male guard escorting her. My shoulders dipped as I moved back from the window, and I settled into my seat at the metal table. Any interaction with the elusive nurse would have to wait.

“Ma’am.” The burly guard nodded as he brought Isobel into the room. “Buzz us when you’re through.” He motioned with his head toward the box on the wall before stepping out and closing the door.

Isobel was dressed in the same jumpsuit as usual, but she had her hair up in two buns at either side of her head, Princess Leia–style. The way she kept her shoulders pulled back and her chin tilted slightly toward the sky had me wondering whether that aura of strength she projected was as effortless as she made it seem. Or maybe it was a crucial component of surviving in a place like Hydeford. As she sat down in the opposite chair, she looked at me expectantly.

“Everything is prepped and ready for your hearing,” I told her. “But that’s not why I’m here this time.”

Isobel’s top lip twisted, and she shook her head slowly, like she was disappointed in me.

“I knew you were going to come back here asking about my personal business. I don’t have anything else to say about it. Nope.” She folded her arms across her chest and glanced toward the door. “I’m done talking about that. Everything that happened is none of my concern anymore, so it most certainly shouldn’t be any of yours.”

“We have a woman who wants to sue,” I answered, “to bring a lawsuit against Dr. Choudry and the clinic, against Hydeford, maybe others. She’s on the outside now, but she was detained here.”

Isobel showed no reaction, so I continued.

“The woman has legal status to stay in the country, but after what they did to her in here, she can’t ever have kids. And she’s ready to do something about it. She wants someone to be held accountable.”

Isobel shrugged, her eyebrows slightly raised, like my comments were utterly irrelevant to her.

“Isobel, please.”

“Why do you even need me if you’ve already got somebody else to do this fight? I told you already, I cannot get deported over this, and that’s what’s going to happen if I start running my mouth.” She looked down at her hands.

“We can do certain things to protect you from retaliation. They didn’t do this to just one person, Isobel. From what I’m hearing, there’s a pattern. A group of powerless, under-resourced, dark-skinned women have been targeted and abused. Somebody has to put a stop to it before more people are hurt. I’m not looking to be the hero here. That has to be you. What if you can stop this from happening to more people?”

Isobel did more machinations with her lips, biting on the lower one, twisting the top, as if words were trying to escape her mouth but she was using a great deal of energy to hold them in.