Translucent (24 page)

“My purse,” I whimper, “I need my ID and insurance card.”

“Got it already, as well as your phone and keys,” he replies softly, kissing the top of my forehead. “Do you want something to put over your face to help block the sunlight?”

“Yes, please.”

Wetting another rag in the sink, he places it over my eyes before we leave the apartment. If I thought the minimal steps to the bathroom were bad, the stairs heading down from my apartment are going to kill me. I know he’s trying hard to be gentle, yet quick, but I’m afraid I’m going to be sick again before we make it to his car. Thankfully, we get there, and he manages to open the door while holding me, and sets me inside. Keeping the cloth over my eyes, I lean my head back on the seat and pray there’s nothing seriously wrong with me.

The drive to the hospital is short, and Madden keeps his hand on my thigh the entire trip, reminding me he’s right next to me. Taking complete control of the situation once we’re in the emergency room, he gets me checked in and holds me in his lap until we’re called back into an examination room. We wait in darkness and silence until the nurse enters the room and flips on the light, causing white-hot pain to sear through my head.

“Miss Martin, I’m Mel, the nurse on duty,” she introduces herself politely. “Dr. Jeffries will be in shortly. I need to ask you a few questions about your medical history, if that’s okay? Would you like your—” she stops, not sure what to call Madden.

“Boyfriend,” he answers for her.

“Would you like your boyfriend to stay in here or leave the room?”

I’m not thinking clearly, due to the sheer agony I’m in, so I reply, “He can stay.”

She then begins going through a slew of questions about allergies, previous surgeries, etcetera…and then she asks
the question
.

“Have you ever been pregnant?”

I don’t answer right away. Swallowing hard, I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to lie to a medical professional, but I don’t want Madden to know either.

“Have you ever been pregnant, Miss Martin?” she asks again, her tone a bit harsher.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“How many times?”

“Once.”

“How many living children do you have?”

“Zero.”

“Any chance you’re pregnant now?”

“No.”

She continues on with several more questions, takes my vitals, and gets an account of what I remember from last night and this morning before announcing she’ll return in a few minutes. All of the air in the room sweeps out with her when she exits. In addition to the physical anguish I’m in, the emotional distress I feel with Madden knowing
that
piece of my history is suffocating me. I expect him to get up and walk out at any minute.

“I’m not upset, nor am I going anywhere, Blake,” he says softly, hearing my silent thoughts as he often does. “We have a lot to learn about each other, both of us, but there’s nothing you can say to scare me away.”

I almost laugh at his words; if he only knew…I’m sure I could most definitely scare him away. However, I do appreciate his sentiment, but am still unsure of what to say. Gratefully, the door swings open and Mel walks in, this time accompanied by a man in blue scrubs, who I assume is Dr. Jeffries.

After a nearly unbearable physical examination, the doctor explains he’s going to order an x-ray to confirm my ankle is only sprained and not fractured, but more importantly, he wants to perform a CT scan to check for swelling and bleeding on the brain. Madden sucks in a deep breath at his announcement.

“She’s going to be okay, right, Dr. Jeffries?” he asks distraughtly.

“I don’t want to give any prognosis at this time. All of the symptoms point to concussion, but I want to have physical proof in my hands before we discuss anything further. Based on the seriousness of the situation, I’ll fast track her so we won’t have to wait long for the tests and results.”

Three hours later, all tests had been performed, and Madden and I were back in the room waiting for the results. The pain medicine they’ve given me has finally kicked in, which alleviates the majority of the pain, but makes me extremely tired. He’s been instructed to try and keep me awake, so every time I drift off, he’ll kiss all over my face until I wake up. I can only imagine how rancid my breath smells, not to mention what I must look like. I haven’t showered since before we went to the beach and pier, and I feel disgusting. Apparently, I’d been passed out a while on my floor, because Madden told me I hadn’t called him until nearly one o’clock in the afternoon. He admitted he drove around Woodland Hills looking for my car after I left his house. I tried to apologize for running away, but he said it wasn’t the time to talk about it. Finally, the door opens, and Dr. Jeffries strides into the room with a subdued look on his face.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he begins, “but we had several serious car crash victims come in. Anyway, I’ve got some good news about your foot; there are no bone fractures. It’s a second degree sprain, meaning there’s a partial tear in the ligament. It can easily be treated with rest, ice, compression, and elevation. I expect you should be able to walk normally on it in four to five days, a week tops. Your head injury is a different story, however. The positive is there isn’t any visible bleeding at this point, but the swelling is quite severe and could be concealing a hemorrhage. We’re going to admit you for a few days until we begin to see a definite reduction in the swelling and can be confident there aren’t any other issues. I’ll be turning you over to the care of the on-call neurologist, unless you have one in mind.” He stops talking to look at me, making sure I’m following along.

“Whoever is here is fine,” I reply quietly, still in disbelief this is happening.

Madden chimes in. “Actually, Dr. Jeffries, I’d like to call someone and get a recommendation if you don’t mind.”

“That’s not necessary,” I dispute.

“Blake, please don’t fight me on this.” The pained expression in his eyes and sternness in his voice shuts me up.

Nodding, I agree, “Okay.”

The doctor tips his head and says, “Once you decide who you’d like to use, please let Mel know. Meanwhile, we’ll begin the admitting process and get you moved to a private room.”

After he walks out the door, Madden excuses himself to make some phone calls, pleading with me to try to stay awake until he returns. He kisses me softly on the corner of my mouth before disappearing out the door.

I try hard to stay awake.

Really, really hard.

But I can’t keep my eyes open.

T
HE
FIRST
CALL
I
MAKE
is to my mom; she’ll know the name of a reputable neurologist in the area, even though I’ll have to answer twenty questions about why I need it. Blake getting the best care possible is my primary concern, and I don’t mind telling my parents about her; I actually
want
them to know.

“Hello, Madden,” she answers cheerfully, “I hope you were able to rest some this afternoon.”

“Hi, Mom. Actually, I’ m calling because I need your help with something,” I reply. “I need the name of a highly-rated, local neurologist.”

“Oh no! Are you okay? What’s happened?” she shrieks into the phone.

“Calm down, Mom. I’m fine. Blake, the person I’m dating, fell and got hurt.”

“Blake? Dating? Is it a woman?” The question is laced with confusion.

I begin to pace the hallway outside the room Blake is in. I don’t want to leave her alone for long. “Yes, she’s a woman, Mom! Come on! She hit her head. We’re at West Hills Hospital in Woodland Hills, and they’ve determined she’s got a pretty severe concussion. We can discuss the details of this later, and assuming she’s doing better, you can meet her at the birthday thing, but I need the name of a doctor pretty quickly.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll text you the name and number of who Dad sees.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too, son. I hope she’s okay.”

After I hang up, I immediately call Mr. Thompson to let him know Blake won’t be at work the next week. I give him a shortened, slightly-modified version of what happened, and I’m pretty sure he wonders why the hell I’m with her at the hospital, but I use my I’m-in-charge tone when talking to him, so he simply thanks me for letting him know, asks me to keep him updated, and wishes her a speedy recovery.

My last call is to Caroline. Once again, I give the Cliff’s notes version of what happened, explain I definitely won’t be in the office tomorrow, and depending on Blake’s progress, the rest of the week is up in the air. I need her to reschedule all meetings for the week just to be sure, and forward any vital messages to my email, which I will check regularly. I also ask her to keep me apprised of Easton’s comings and goings, and to alert me if he attempts to make any substantive decisions while I’m not there. She, too, wishes Blake a quick recovery, and assures me she’ll take care of the office.

The text from my mom with the neurologist’s contact information comes through as I’m disconnecting with Caroline, so I locate Mel at the nurse’s station and give her the name and number. Rushing back to Blake, I find her fast asleep in the hospital bed. The sight of her delicate, frail frame lying helplessly on her bedroom floor this afternoon triggered something inside of me I can’t quite explain, making me realize this is more than attraction, more than the need to take care of her, and more than the desire to be buried inside of her. I was worried when I’d come home and she wasn’t there, but I knew I’d be able to track her down eventually, and we’d talk out whatever had caused her to run. After the initial relief of hearing from her though, seeing her in that state terrified me, not knowing what was wrong or if she’d be all right.

In the several weeks I’ve known her, she’s busted her lip, clawed up her side, bitten her tongue, and now sprained her ankle and concussed herself, all because of whatever demons live inside her head. I’m sure her failed pregnancy plays a role in all of it somehow, and though I was surprised by her revelation, it didn’t change how I feel about her. I’ve refrained from asking too many questions up until now, wanting her to trust me and share her past when she’s ready, but I can’t bite my tongue any longer. Once she’s recovered, we must have a serious talk about what or who it is that makes her do these things to herself. I refuse to sit by and watch her destroy herself slowly. I need her in my life, and I’m willing to do whatever I have to do to keep her here.

“Blake, wake up,” I say softly as I gently shake her shoulder. “Come on, Blake, the doctor said no sleeping yet.”

She stirs for a moment, but doesn’t open her eyes. Leaning down, I kiss each closed lid, then the tip of her nose, and lastly, her pouty lips. “Wake up, sweet girl. We’re going to be moving rooms soon. We need to get you some food too.”

Her lashes flutter as she gradually opens her striking blue eyes. “There’s my girl. I need you to stay awake until we get in your new room and eat dinner, okay?”

She smiles faintly and nods. “You’re still here,” she murmurs.

I brush her hair back off her forehead, then softly caress her cheek with my thumb. “Of course, I’m here. I told you I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why?”

“You’re special to me, Blake; I can’t explain it. I’m not going to abandon you, and I’m going to help you get better. Somehow, some way, we’ll figure this entire thing out, but for now, we need to focus on your immediate recovery here. The best thing you can do is rest that swollen brain of yours, and not worry about anything else. I’ll take care of everything for you.”

She chews on her bottom lip nervously. “I need to call Mr. Thom—”

“I’ve already taken care of it,” I cut her off. “Please stop worrying and listen to me. I will take care of it all.”

“Okay, I trust you,” she whispers, melting me a little inside. I won’t fail her.

She eventually gets moved into a room outside of the emergency area, and once she’s all set up, I make the quick trip to grab us both a decent, non-hospital-issued meal and to her apartment to gather some toiletries and more pajamas for her. She’s asked no less than ten times if she can take a shower yet, and the nurse indicated she doesn’t have to wear the standard gown if she has her own night clothes.