Forever Loved (The Forever Series) (4 page)

“All right, let your feet come down to the floor, slowly.” The nurse held the bag from the top, and I had to look away from the yellow fluid sloshing inside. Good grief. This was worse than having a baby. The gown rode up as I moved, and the long white bandage holding the tube in place on my thigh peeked out. I could not have been more glad I had asked Gavin to go to class.

The nurse offered her arm. “All right, pull yourself up carefully. Let’s see how steady you are.”

I definitely felt the weakness in my legs as I held on to the nurse’s meaty arm and braced myself with the bed rail. As soon as I was vertical, my head began throbbing.

“Excellent. A few steps.”

The first movement forward was a little tremulous, but once I had taken a couple steps, it got easier.

“Okay, that’s good,” she said. “I can pull this.” She led me back to the bed.

I sank onto the mattress with relief, my thighs still quivering.

“Once we get some food in you, you’ll be good as gold.” She helped me move my legs back up. “This will just be a little pinch.”

The ceiling tiles were much easier to stare at than her ministrations down below. I winced as the bandage came off, then sucked in a big gulp of air as something came free between my legs.

“All done,” she said.

She whisked the tubing and bag away. “Someone will come in with breakfast shortly.”

I released a long-held breath when she left. This part was almost over. I wanted to be home, back to my books. I would be so behind in classes. It was only Friday, so at least I hadn’t missed a star party for astronomy yet. But the literature, the reading. I would have to ask Gavin to bring my books so I could catch up.

The thought of him settled me. My parents would come around, even Dad. Everything would be fine.

Someone knocked at the door, and I scurried to drag the sheets back over my legs. “Come in!”

I expected someone with a food tray, but a youngish woman with funny cat’s-eye glasses came in. “Corabelle, you up?”

This was it. I sat as straight as I could, hoping to present a normal, and more importantly sane, appearance.

She moved across the room and extended a hand. “I’m Sabrina. I work with the patients here.”

I accepted the handshake, feeling suspicious of every word. Why not just say she was a social worker? Or was she some sort of therapist?
 

I realized I hadn’t answered. “Hello, Sabrina,” I said. Manners, Corabelle. Normal and sane.

She pulled a stool next to the bed, smoothing out her zebra-striped skirt that fluttered over her knees, another anachronism. “Your doctors asked me to stop by and chat with you.”

My face burned as my heart rate accelerated. At least I wasn’t on monitors anymore, so Sabrina couldn’t tell. “Did we get my insurance squared away?”

“Oh, I’m not with billing or anything. I came to talk to you a little about your history, and what happened the other day.”

I didn’t answer, not sure what to say, what could cause trouble for me.

She opened a folder. “I got your records from the UCSD health clinic.”

Now my heart really hammered. The doctor there had written me a mental health referral. God, I wished I’d never gone. If Gavin had just told me about the vasectomy before, I wouldn’t have been in there thinking I was pregnant.

I realized I was clenching the sheets and forced myself to let go. “Yes, I’ve been there just once,” I said.

“For a pregnancy test and an STD screening.”

This was so humiliating. “So what does that have to do with my pneumonia?”

Sabrina arranged her face into a clinical smile, and I immediately stiffened, on guard. “I just thought you might want to talk through some of the things that might have led to the event a few days ago.”

“Do you think they are related?” I had to be careful. Every question felt like a trap.

“Well, I just see some elements in your file that might indicate you’re under a lot of stress.”

I looked down at my hands, not able to keep my gaze as steady and calm as I wanted. Everyone told me I had the poker face of a kitten, so there was no keeping up the ruse that my life was normal. “My classes are going fine. I’m a little behind now, of course, but it should be all right.”

She leaned forward, her black glasses sliding forward on her nose. “Corabelle, I know about the baby. That must have been really hard.”

I knew I should look her in the eye, show how well adjusted I was, but I couldn’t. She had no idea how hard it was. The NICU, the monitors, the doctors saying they wouldn’t operate, the ventilator going silent. Holding Finn until his chest stopped moving.

My hands were pale against the white sheets. I would wait her out, say as little as possible. I wished I knew my rights, if they could keep me here.

“Corabelle?”

She was going to make me talk. I needed an interruption, a fire alarm, something to get me out of this. I wished for Gavin. He was so much better at this sort of thing, acting nonchalant, disarming people with his charm. “It was a long time ago. I’m fine now.”

“The doctor at the clinic seemed to think you could use some assistance working things out.”

“He didn’t seem too concerned. It was optional, just there if I needed it.” I moved my gaze to the window, the blinds tightly closed. I wanted them wide, to see something outside this oppressive room — open air, the sky, and maybe the sea.

“I’m just here to help you. Are you worried about talking to me?”

I forced myself to look at her, to smile. “You seem very nice. I’m just ready to go home and get back to classes.”

“You want to talk about New Mexico? I know you left there suddenly.”

My throat got so tight that I didn’t think I could talk if I wanted to. What did she know? What records had she accessed? I would kill to see what had been transferred in the files.

“You were arrested?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You want to tell me about that?”

I wanted to say “Not really,” but that didn’t seem sane or well adjusted. “It’s in the past.”

She touched a finger to her lips, tapping them with a long blue nail. “Seems like maybe it’s still troubling you. Did you ever talk to your professor after your altercation?”

God, she knew everything. “I was asked to apologize.”

“How did that go?”

I wanted to snap, “About as well as it goes when you’ve smacked a pregnant woman,” but I just shrugged. “She handled it okay.”

A man arrived with the breakfast tray, and I was so relieved I could have hugged him. When he saw Sabrina, he stopped. “Should I leave this over here?” He pointed to a rolling cart by the wall.

Sabrina stood up. “Oh no, I think this is her first meal. She should eat.”

He set the tray on the cart and rolled it over to fit across my bed.

“Thank you,” I said, glad to have somewhere to look.

“I’ll drop by again later,” Sabrina said. “We can talk some more about your last school.”

Great. “Okay.” I lifted the blue plastic lid that covered a plate with eggs and a piece of toast, concentrating on it as though it consumed all my attention.

She headed back out alongside the man, and when they were outside the door, I covered the eggs again and let my head fall back against the pillow. I wanted a computer, the internet, to look up my situation and see how to handle it, what would happen if I refused to cooperate. I wanted Gavin, and Jenny, allies, someone to talk this through.

A hospital phone sat on the side table, but it was useless. Like most people with cell phones and contact lists, I didn’t have any numbers memorized. Although maybe my phone was dried out enough to turn on. I could at least get the numbers.

In a minute. I pressed my hand against my chest, willing myself to calm down. I didn’t want to start another coughing fit. Sabrina wanted to talk about New Mexico. It seemed she already knew what had happened. So the records were out there. The university hadn’t suppressed it all.

That afternoon was still so clear in my memory. I had been fine for months, not even relying on the blackouts much anymore to keep me grounded. I was three years into school, finally gaining enough seniority to get a private dorm room. I had a great job in the main office and important references, including deans and the assistant president of the university, which would almost ensure an easy slide into grad school. With one year to go on my bachelor’s degree, I was already looking at my options for where to go and how to pay for it.

Then a simple walk through campus on a chilly spring day changed everything. I rounded the corner of a parking garage and bumped straight into my lit professor from the previous semester. I knew she was pregnant, but now she was enormous, her belly a mile in front of her as she leaned against the wall on the back side of the building.

Everything happened so fast. Her eyes went wide as her fingers tightened on the joint between her lips. I knew immediately what it was, and I just reacted, knocking her hand away from her mouth. How dare she smoke that thing while she was pregnant? What was she thinking?

My blow struck much harder than I expected, and she fell back into the wall, the rough bricks scraping her face.

Then she was bleeding. I realized I had hurt her, and now I was in big trouble.

She looked up at me, one hand against her cheek and the other on her belly. I backed away, turned, and ran.

The trees blurred around me. I could see Finn. Gavin. My parents. Katie. Her kitchen, the joints. The pregnancy stick. The doctors, telling me Finn’s heart could not be saved. I dodged cars and passed startled passersby. I kept going until my lungs were bursting and I couldn’t go any farther. I sat on the ground behind a maintenance building, far off the path of students trekking to classes. I gulped in air, then held my breath, then decided it was unwise, then did it anyway. I welcomed the black like I had never done before, wishing I could make it last, wanting it to be permanent.

I came back around with my nose pressed into the dirt, tears tracking down my face. I stood up, lost, wondering what to do, where to go. Resigned, I just headed home.

Two men in different uniforms waited for me in the hallway outside my room. One was campus police, the other from the city.

I sat in a chair while they asked me questions. Had I hit Dr. Tate? What had happened?

The campus police officer wanted to let the school handle it, but the city officer said no, the assault had been reported at a hospital, and only the professor herself could drop the charges. He did not put me in handcuffs or anything, just asked me to follow him. He loaded me into the back of his squad car, and we drove through town. I didn’t speak anymore.

I never went into a jail cell. By the time I got through the hours-long admitting process, fingerprints, photos, and waiting in line to make a phone call, not that I knew who to try, one of the university lawyers had already arrived. He was tall in his tan suit, his hair silvering on the sides. He talked to the woman who was processing my paperwork, and she gestured to me.

He smiled grimly. “Corabelle, I’m Sam. I work for the university. We’re going to talk in a quiet room for a minute. Is that okay?”

I nodded and stood up to follow him down a hall.

We entered a small room with a plain table and two folding chairs.

Sam sat in one and laid his briefcase flat between us. “Corabelle, you are very well liked in the main office. This is an unfortunate incident.”

I sat opposite him, not sure what to say to that.

“Dr. Tate doesn’t want this to end your academic career. We’ve decided it’s best to keep this at the university level. She will drop the charges if you are willing to accept our agreement.”

I still didn’t say anything. She was the one smoking a joint. She had more to hide than I did.

“Assault of a pregnant woman, a former professor of yours, doesn’t look good on any record. I’m not sure what happened, but if you’re willing to agree to our terms, we can put all this behind us.”

Apologize? She was the one endangering her baby! Rage blossomed inside me, but I had to stuff it down. I couldn’t do anything now. They had all the power.

He opened his briefcase. “I have an agreement drawn up. It says that in exchange for Dr. Tate dropping the charges, you will agree to not speak of the incident, to apologize to her, and to arrange for a transfer to another college. Naturally we’ll assist you with transferring your credits.”

I had to leave? “But my scholarships.”

He frowned. “I’m not familiar with those. Some may travel with you.”

I shook my head. “They were all from NMSU.”

“Would you rather take your chances with a judge then? I can release you back to the custody of the jail.”

I shook my head. I knew how that would go. Telling my parents. Hiring a lawyer. And no guarantees. This was a lose-lose.

He reviewed the segments of the agreement. I signed the bottom.

“Let’s get you discharged,” he said, standing.

I followed him numbly down the corridors, back through processing, and collected my backpack and the personal items they had confiscated when I arrived.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked.

“I’ll take the bus,” I said.

“Good luck, Corabelle. I’m sorry this happened.”

I turned away from him to trudge down the sidewalk. The day had moved to evening. I wasn’t sure what to do next. Once again, I had to start all over.

When I got to my dorm room, I sat on the bed, feeling numb. What would I say to my parents about my move? And my coworkers. Would they clear out my desk? I wasn’t sure how big a secret it would be. I had no instructions.

I could go home to my parents’ house, but it was so full of memories — the sun room, my bedroom window, the gate in the back fence that led to Gavin’s. No, I couldn’t go there.

Finn’s framed picture sat on a small table and I picked it up. “Where do I go now?” I asked him.

He couldn’t look at me, his eyes covered with a protective mask, the tube and the blue tape preventing him from talking, or crying, or making any sound.

I slid to the floor, the picture in my lap. Why hadn’t I walked some other way? Why had she been so close to that wall? I’d never struck anyone in my life, not with anything other than a playful punch. She had no idea why I had done it. That I knew what it was like to forever second-guess yourself, to wonder if what you had done had harmed your child.