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“Thank you, for letting me stay.”
Izzie
I decide to go for a little walk. I can’t just sit around anymore. Especially when I know that Zak is talking to my dad, trying to convince him that I’m not Satan for sleeping with his best friend. I want to get out of Zak’s apartment. Even though it is beautiful, it’s undeniably a bachelor pad and the place has a certain coldness to it. A couple of minutes into my stroll I feel the world spin out of control as I slip. Time slows as I spiral toward the unforgiving sidewalk, pain ricocheting through me like a lightning bolt the second I collide with the ground.
The next moments are a blur of wailing sirens, masked faces, and frantic voices. I can taste the metallic tang of fear in my mouth as they load me onto the ambulance, a cacophony of noises and blurry lights making my head pound with an intensity that leaves me breathless.
When I come around, the sterile smell of the hospital fills my senses, the relentless beep of the heart monitor an ominous white noise amidst the hushed whispers. My entire right side is on fire, a sensation that leaves me dazed and confused. It takes me a few seconds to register where I am, and when the realization hits, the first thought that crosses my mind is my babies.
"Doctor," I call out weakly, panic-stricken. "My babies... are they...?"
A gentle-faced, bespectacled doctor comes over. "You've fractured your hip, Izzie, but your babies are safe," he assures me, his voice calm and steady.
I release a breath I haven't realized I was holding.
"You need to stay for monitoring, though," he adds. "We need to ensure there's no internal bleeding or complications due to the fall."
Before I could question more, a nurse leads me through several more examinations. Despite the pain and fright, relief washes over me knowing my babies are safe.
Deftly swept into a cycle of medical examinations, the looming uncertainty turns progressively lighter. The undeniable certainty that my unborn children are unharmed casts a halo of relief over the pressing discomfort.
I must have drifted off to sleep when the door creaks open. The whispering squeal aroused me, my pulse spiking in tandem to the figure darkening the door frame. My heart leaps as Zak enters the room, his face losing color when he sees me on the hospital bed. But behind him walks a figure, all too familiar yet equally imposing - my father.
My breath hitches at their sight. Zak has a comforting presence at the moment, he is strong and steady, and his mere appearance eases away the edge of dread. On the contrary, my father, the last time I’d seen him, had told me in no kind words to get out of his house. His mere presence adds a layer of tension to the already sterile hospital air.
His gravelly voice tugs at my heartstrings, concern clear on his face and in his words.
"Thank god you’re okay, Iz,” Dad begins, his voice gruff with worry and tears forming in his eyes. “The babies?” he asks. I can tell it is difficult for him to say. The inquiry sounds foreign to him. The truth of my pregnancy is a sharp reality they were grappling with, a truth I'd had the luxury of time to reconcile with. I let them know that the babies were miraculously all ok. With reassurances of the babies' safety whispered into their anxiously waiting ears, I watch the tension thaw from their frames.. I should have reassured them as soon as they walked through the door, not realizing they’d been on edge.
My father, the concerned parent, takes precedence, providing me with momentary comfort while Zak waits, patient and understanding.
With a plethora of apologies by my father, I can't help note his intentional oversight of Zak. A shared glance with Zak and I understand their disagreement lingers, but the moment isn't opportune for confrontation. For now, our collective concern outweighs any discord that persists.
As the echoes of our shared silence begins to dissipate, the door creaks open once more. In walks Dr. Emory, her lab coat an emblem of medical authority that fits comfortably with her demeanor of compassionate professionalism. She greets us with a nod, her gaze sweeping over us with a practiced coolness.
"Everyone's been thoroughly worried about you, Izzie," she begins, her gaze locked on me. "Your fall resulted in a hip fracture, I'm afraid. The X-rays indicate it's a lingering issue to consider."
More than the words themselves, the gravity in her voice spells the seriousness of the situation. My heart sinks as I grapple with what this means.
"You see, hip fractures in pregnancies like yours carry a certain complication," Dr. Emory continues with a doctor’s blend of sympathy and objectivity. "The risks associated with surgeries are higher, and it will invariably take longer for your body to heal."
"Longer...how much longer?" my father manages to utter, his face paling at the revelation, his hands gripping the bed’s railing tightly.
Dr. Emory sighs, "We are looking at a couple of months, at the very least."
The room, already stilled by the sterile scent of a hospital, seems to fall deeper into silence. We hang onto each word, a somber pall settling in as the gravity of the situation is unveiled. The notion of months in a hospital hits each of us differently.
My father looks as if he was on the verge of a breakdown. The man I’d viewed as a pillar of strength is suddenly fragile, his tears a visible testament to his worries.
Zak holds a stoic vanguard despite the news. I can see his world rippling with the shock, his hand reaching for mine, grounding us amidst the turbulent revelations.
Soothingly, Dr. Emory adds, "We have a great rehabilitation team here, Izzie. And remember, bearing weight on the hip as soon as you physically can, and maintaining positivity, will speed up the healing."
The tension dissipates slightly with her words. I squeeze Zak's hand, grateful for his presence and strength.
Seeing them both, the pillars of strength in my life, bringst me a sense of relief that drowns the persistent undercurrent of vulnerable apprehensions. The relief is indescribable. I know that against all odds, I might just make it through this.
As they both leave and Zak assures me he will be back as soon as he can tomorrow, I thank him. Left alone with my thoughts I battle through my feelings for Zak. My heart wants to accept him, it sees how he has stepped up since finding out the news of the pregnancy and begins to picture that future with him again. My head still doesn’t trust him, it remembers how he has hurt me before. How cold he went, how he looked me in the eyes and told me that it all meant nothing to him. I physically wince from the memory, or possibly the pain of my current injury.
