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“No, ma’am. That’s my name. My wife’s name is Callie.”
“Take the elevator to the fourth floor and turn right. You’ll need to show your identification when you get up there.”
He turned the corner and waited for the elevator.
“Drunkard comin’ to see his poor wife who’s in intensive care. Wonder what put her there?” he overheard the woman say to the next person in line. He was damn sick and tired of people thinking Callie’s problems were because of him. Damn sick and tired of it.
Right after they married, his in-laws had sat him down and told him about Callie’s illness. Might have been nice if they’d told him a little earlier. Maybe they thought he wouldn’t have married her if they had.
While she was pregnant, she’d been good about taking her meds. After the baby was born, not so much. She was afraid they’d affect her breast milk, and she was determined to breastfeed. Grey wasn’t ten days old when she had her first fit. That’s what Bullet started calling them—fits. He had no idea what started it, but suddenly she was screaming at him. Then she pummeled him with her fists. It took him a minute to react, that first time, and when he did, it’d been to hold her at arm’s length. When she couldn’t reach him to hit him, she’d turned her head and bit his arm.
He’d almost backhanded her that day, out of instinct, but stopped himself. Before it could get worse, he left. He was less than a mile away when he turned the truck around. What was he thinking? He couldn’t leave their baby alone with her.
When he got back to the house, she was on the bed, sobbing into a pillow. The baby was in the bassinet next to the bed, also sobbing. Screaming was more like it. He called her name, but she didn’t appear to hear him. Was this what it was like when she was home alone with Grey? Did she just leave him in his bassinet, screaming?
He picked the baby up, that day, and drove to his in-laws’ house. Later that night, he moved Callie, the baby, and himself in with them. He hadn’t wanted to, but he didn’t see he had any choice. They’d agreed it wasn’t a good idea to leave her alone with the baby.
Callie’s dad stood when Bullet got off the elevator and approached the ICU waiting area.
“Hello, son,” his voice broke, and he turned away from Bullet.
“What’s goin’ on?”
“It’s Callie.”
“Is she…oh, God,” he couldn’t continue.
“No, but she’s unresponsive.” When he saw tears run down his father-in-law’s cheeks, Bullet felt as though he might cry, too.
The door opened, and Callie’s mom joined them in the waiting room.
“Where…in…the…hell…have…you…been?” she spat at him.
“Now, Mama,” his father-in-law began. “This isn’t Bullet’s fault.”
“Isn’t his fault? Did I hear you right? Did you just say this isn’t his fault?” She turned and jabbed Bullet in the chest with her
finger. “Why did you leave last night? Why? Answer me. What was so damn important that you left our little girl all alone?”
Bullet backed away from her, but she kept coming at him. Callie’s father put his arms around his wife’s waist and stopped her. When he did, she broke down in tears.
“She tried to kill herself last night, Bullet,” she sobbed. “And where were you? Where were you?”
Bullet felt the air leave his lungs. She’d been asleep. He doubted she or Grey would wake up before her parents got back, which he figured would be any minute. They never stayed out past seven-thirty or eight. He hadn’t left much before then. What the hell had happened?
The intensive-care nurse led Bullet to Callie’s room. “You’ll have fifteen minutes.”
Nothing could have prepared him for the way she looked. There were tubes going into a mask that covered half her face. There was another smaller tube that went directly into her nose. There were wires everywhere and an IV in her arm.
He fell into the chair next to her bed and reached out to touch her. Her skin felt cold and clammy. And it looked gray. Soft tears fell down Bullet’s cheeks as he took Callie’s hand in his.
“What have you done, sweet girl?” He lowered his head and let himself cry.
Someone rested her hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t heard anyone come in. He looked over his shoulder at his mother-in-law, tears rolling down her cheeks too.
“They need us to make a decision.”
Bullet stood and moved away from her. “What kind of decision?”
