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I grip his fingers as tears well in my eyes. “Dr. Hassan, did…did…did my baby make it?” I ask, slowly turning my head so I can see his face. His head is tilted down looking at the clipboard in his hand, a frown forming on his lips.
“I’m sorry, Dale. Your son died. The impact of the first vehicle and the hit from the cube van caused the placenta to rupture and the cord to sever from the baby When you are ready, we await your directions for the next steps. Is there anyone you’d like me to call? I have a Mr. Jackson Cockaday as your emergency contact.”
“Please, don’t call him. Call my mom. She should be listed as my next contact,” I whisper, letting go of the doctors fingers, and turning to stare out the window.
“Dale, I am going to send a nurse in to change the bandages and get you anything you need.” I slowly tilt my head in acknowledgement and then listen as he leaves me to my misery.
“Hi, sweetheart. My name is Shannie. I’ll be your nurse for at least the next four hours. Then my twin Jannie will be here for you. I will make sure you are as comfortable as possible,” Shannie says, lifting the clipboard she studies what is written on the sheets in front of her. She places the board down and turns to write what needs to be done under the categories on the whiteboard.
“Dale!”I hear my name being screeched from down the hallway. I know immediately it's Jackson. I turn my head to look at Nurse Shannie. My eyes bulge as panic settles into my gut. This is his fault. He was supposed to be driving me. I was supposed to be here holding my child in my arms, and thanking the world for giving me such a precious life, a gift for me to nurture, to love and to raise, to be a functional part of society.
“There you are. The hospital told me you were in an accident. Is the kid all right?” Jackson asks, huffing and puffing like he ran here. I turn to look at the man who now turns my stomach in disgust.
“Since you so kindly brought it up…” The heart monitor starts to beep. “My son was killed during the accident. My son, who never saw the light of day, died because his sperm donor was too busy playing fucking video games to worry about him getting here safely.” The monitor starts to set off alarm bells, causing Shannie to step in front of me and demand that Jackson leave.
“She is my girlfriend. I need to be here for her.”
“Jackson, we are done. We were done when I left the house having contractions and you couldn’t be bothered to bring me here to give birth. I was done when I had to pull over to the side of the road to breathe through a contraction. And I was done when I woke up to having lost my baby.My baby!” I state, turning to the window and letting the tears flow.
Arms wrap around me gently. Holding me as I relive the loss of a life that hadn’t even started yet.
“Sweetie, I will make sure he isn’t allowed back. Nod your head if that is your wish,” Shannie states, her arms never leaving me.
“P…p…please keep him away from me,” I whisper, closing my eyes and letting the pain lull me to sleep. It may have also been the medication that Shannie pushed through my veins, but the only thing I know is if this was hell, I want off the ride.
* * *
Hands touching me.
Whispers a dull roar in the room.
The feeling of being in the one place I know will keep me safe.
“Mom, Dad?” I say, my throat dry, causing my voice to come out like a croak.
“We are here, my peanut. We are going to keep you safe now.” My dad’s voice calms the hell that is brewing in my head. At least for a brief second.
Tears threaten to leak from my eyes. I fight them back, sick and tired of crying. The memories of the accident threaten to take over my mind.
“Daddy, I want to move back home,” I whisper as his arms tighten around me.
“Peanut, you are always welcome home,” my mom says before placing a kiss to my forehead. Everyone always talks about how they love their parents, but they wish they would leave them alone to live their own lives. Not me. My parents have always been there for me. They are the reason I chased my dream of starting and owning a publishing company. One where I could fulfill my dream.
That dream seems lost now, though.
DALE
One week later…
“We have set up your transfer to the rehabilitation center just outside Coree Harbor. You will be in rehab for the broken fibula in your right leg and the femur in your left. The bruises and cuts will heal, much like your breaks. The thing that will take time is the mind, and the counselor they provide will begin to give you techniques to help you move forward. They are expecting you in about three hours. The transport bus is downstairs waiting for us to finish the paperwork,” Dr. Hassan states, looking at the board, then to me. “Dale, I can honestly say your ability to heal and fight through the tough times has been inspiring. You have been one of the few women who has lost a child and still fought to get better,” Dr. Hassan says, writing something at the bottom of the sheet attached to his clipboard.
“Dr. Hassan, I’m not inspirational. I am simply a woman that wants to get away from this place and from the town that took it all from me. I appreciate all your hard work and dedication to making me better. But I can only heal on my own terms, and right here in this room, it’s not the atmosphere where it’s going to happen. Can you tell me if the remains of my child were released to my parents? They had set up the funeral for him in Coree Harbor.”
“Your son was released two days ago to a Mr. Miles of Coree Harbor Funeral Services.” Dr. Hassan steps forward and grabs my hand. “For what it’s worth, the pain will always blind you. There will be days when it feels like the world owes you for a life that was taken too soon. Don’t let pain run your heart. Don’t let it debilitate you to the point you can’t see past the haze. You are meant for more.” He lets go of my hand and leaves the room as my dad walks in with the wheelchair.
“I don’t need that,” I mumble, swinging my legs off the bed and slowly sliding my feet to the floor.
“Listen to your old dad. You may think you can scrap with the world, but for right now you are my daughter. You were and are hurt and hurting. This is me taking care of my daughter. In a few days we will deal with my precious grandangel, and then we will heal together as a family.” My dad smiles, the sadness in his eyes fighting with the happiness of having his daughter home.
