Twenty Four Weeks - Episode 25 Part Two - "Thirty Six Part Two" (PG)
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Twenty Four Weeks - Episode 25 Part 2 - "Thirty Six - Part Two"
Written by J.D.Denisson.
A sequel to the movie "This is Where I Leave You".
Characters and back story based on the novel "This is Where I Leave You" by Jonathan Tropper.
Copyright 2016 J.D.Denisson.
Previously?
"Let me ask you something."
"Okay."
"Let's say that you gave Quinn a chance to explain herself and she told you what I just told you, would you still be here or would you still be home? Would you be having sex with me, or her?"
"I thought sex was out of the question?"
"Hypothetically."
I considered it. "I don't know," I said. But maybe I do.
"Okay then. Let's say that sex is back on the table."
"What?"
"Yeah. Let's do it. Take me into the bedroom and screw me senseless, Judd. Screw me like you've never screwed anyone before. Screw me harder than you've ever screwed your wife. Then you'll know."
?
"Mr Altman," says the doctor. He's the only one left. His gown matches the sheets and the floor. His gloves, previously blue are dark red. "Can you hear me?"
I nod. I'm in shock. I can't speak. I can't think. I want to run after my wife and hold her and make sure that she is alright. But I know she isn't and I know she doesn't need me right now. She needs the man standing in front of me.
"Your wife is bleeding. She's on the way to the OR right now. Do you understand?"
I nod again.
"I suspect that her uterus has ruptured, probably because of its shape. I won't know until I get in there. What I need from you is your consent. Can I operate on your wife, Mr Altman."
I nod a third time.
"She'll need a blood transfusion. She's lost a lot of blood. She'll lose more. Do I have your permission?"
I nod a fourth.
"And one last thing. If there's too much damage to her uterus, I might not be able to save it. I might have to remove it to save her life. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Do you understand what that means? She won't be able to have any more children. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Any questions?"
I shake my head. Just get in there, I think.
He nods himself. Turns to go.
"Please," I say, like a prayer, like a should be saying this on my knees. "Save my wife."
Thirty Six - Part Two
Tuesday
7.35pm
"Know what?" I said with a gasp.
"Well," Penny explains, "if you feel guilty then you'll know that you love her and that you should have listened. Of course by then it'll be too late. You'd have broken your vows again, only this time it'll be worse because you made them knowing full well what they mean. And, of course, if you don't feel guilty then you'll know it's over. And it'll be too late then too."
She stood, started toward the bedroom. "Come on, Judd. This is it. The moment of truth."
Things were moving way too fast. I hadn't imagined that this would how it would play out. I thought that it would be more natural, not this life-or-death, lightening-round decision stuff.
"Hold on," I said quickly. She did. She stopped.
"What's the matter? So, you don't want to sleep with me then?"
"Not like this."
"But this is what you wanted."
"This isn't what I wanted," I told her, exasperated.
"So, what do you want?"
"I don't know. Not this."
"But you do know. You just don't know you know."
"I don't know what?"
"Think about it. Where would you be? Who would you be making love to right now?"
And she was right. If I'd talked to Quinn, if I'd listened to her, if she'd told me what was now so obvious, then I'd be only one place, with one person. And I'd be making love to that person because she has been the only person that I've wanted to be with for so long. So long that I can't remember other loves - even the one that stood over me then, smiling because she knew that I came to the same conclusion as her. She probably knew the moment I wanted it and she's been playing me like a fish on her line, slowly reeling me in.
"Home," I said. "With Quinn."
And I cried like I did when I remembered my father, when I held Quinn and our unborn child on the night I came home, when I told my tale to Grant, when I shared deep and painful things with Quinn, when I was renewed and restored, when I spoke my vows to her again. Penny came to me and held me. Not like a lover, because that time has passed never to return. But like a friend. A friend that has always loved me, will always love me, but has learnt to let me go.
When my tears passed, I took a deep breath and she released me from her arms.
"You've got to go," she said. She's said it before. I ran to the hospital when Quinn was bleeding and afraid and I was the only one that could help her. Penny let me go then, even though the news that Quinn was carrying my child was a shock to her. This was different.
"I know." I smiled, took a deep breath. "Can I use your bathroom?"
"You know where it is."
I splashed water on my face, washed away the tears on my cheeks, tried and get my brain into action. Tried to think about Quinn and what I'm going to do, what I'm going to say.
Out in the dining room, where I left Penny, I heard a phone ring. It sounded like mine, but then a lot of phones do. I could hear her answer it, talk for a few moments and then there was silence. When I came out my phone was on the table, but in a different place than where I left it.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"It was a woman."
"What?"
"She asked me who I was and I told her. And then asked for you. I said you were 'indisposed'. Then she hung up."
"Crap."
"Sorry."
"Did the screen have Quinn's name on it when she called?"
"No. Otherwise I wouldn't have answered it."
"Why did you answer my phone?"
She held hers. Exactly the same as mine.
"Damn," I said under my breath. "What woman doesn't have their phone wrapped in some fancy pink case or something."
"I'm sorry," she said a second time, shaking her head.
I swear again, gather up my coat at the front door. "Now I've really got to go."
Wednesday
1.30am
"Judd?"
I look up. Jen stands above me. She has red, swollen eyes. Her shoulders are slumped. She takes a deep breath.
"You can't stay here," she says.
"Where can I go?"
"The waiting room. Everyone is there. They'll want to know how things are going."
"I don't know how things are going."
She sighs. "No. But they should at least know your daughter made it into the world okay. And they need to know about Quinn."
I nod slowly, but I can't stand. I can barely move.
"You didn't tell them?" I ask her.
"Not without your permission. Anyway, I didn't go out there."
"Where have you been then?"
"Outside. I needed a cigarette, like real bad."
"Did that help?"
"Not one bit." She takes a deep breath. "Come on. Let's face the music. I'll be right with you." She helps me up and we walk slowly down the corridor to the waiting room at the end. "And then we'll go and see your daughter. Do you have a name? Of course you do. It's not like Quinn to leave that sort of thing to the last minute. What did you call her?"
/> "I should wait for Quinn, so we can tell everyone together."
Jen nods, but I can see something in her eyes. I know what she's thinking, it's what is in the back of my mind screaming for attention. I'm pushing it back and I'm ignoring what I see on Jen's face.
"That's a good idea," Jen says. "She'd appreciate that."
We push through the big double doors into the waiting room. It's quiet out there. Only Quinn's people are waiting - and my people too:
Quinn's mom and dad;
My Mom, Wendy, Phillip - with Chelsea, who he's obviously seeing again;
Mary and Elise;
Allan, who comes to Jen, wraps his arms around her tired body;
Becca and Mike;
Wade and Chloe.
I stand there at the doors, rock still and shocked. My face tells them that something is wrong, very wrong.
They're talking all around me, but Jen yells them to silence. She looks at me but I can't say anything. She nods.
"The baby is okay," she says, and the others breathe a sigh of relief.
"And Quinn?" asks Wendy, the only one brave to ask.
"She's not so okay. There were complications."
"What complications?"
"Bleeding. A lot of bleeding."
The little group stands in stunned silence. Chloe puts a hand over her mouth, starts to cry. Wade wraps his arms around her, to comfort her and I think to distract himself from joining her. Wendy comes to me and holds me tight, squeezes me. Quinn's mom sits quickly so that she doesn't fall.
"She'll be okay," Wendy says quietly into my ear. "You haven't got this far only to lose each other now."
"What are they doing about it?" my mother asks.
"She's in surgery," Jen explains. "We don't know anything else."
"They haven't given you some sort of update?" my mother fumes. "That's not good enough. I'm going back there."
"Mom, please," Wendy says. "For once can't you just be supportive rather than jumping in making things worse."
"You have to keep onto these people, otherwise they won't tell you anything. Trust me, I know."
"They'll tell us something when they know something. Bothering them isn't going to change anything."
"We'll take her," says Chelsea. "Come on, Mrs Altman, come sit with us."
"The baby is in the nursery," Jen says. "I'm taking Judd up there now."
"I should come too," Wendy says.
Jen looks at me and I nod. Of all my family, she is the one that I could count on the most. She said she'd be here and helping when my baby was born, and now I'm holding her to that promise.
The three of us leave the waiting room, down to the lifts. The nursery is on the second floor.
1.50am
Rachel is impossibly small. I've forgotten just how small little babies are. I remember Thomas. I think he was bigger than Rachel but it's imposable to tell now. She is encased in a plastic cage. She's naked except for a cloth nappy. There is something wrapped around one of her feet, it emits a red light. A wire runs from it to a piece of equipment sitting on top of her enclosure.
"Oh my god," Wendy gaps, "she so beautiful."
"And small," Jen adds.
A label is taped to the side of Rachel's plastic prison. It says 'Baby of Quinn Altman.' Quinn, who now fights for her life, who might not ever come out. Quinn who might leave this little baby motherless. Quinn, who I've hurt over and over again, and who I love more than anything.
The nurse appears, smiling. She knows what is happening with her charge's mother, but that isn't her concern, not yet. "Hello," she says, "I'm Elle. I'm your nurse."
"Can he hold her," Jen asks.
"I didn't had a chance to," I explain, finding my voice finally.
Elle nodes and opens the hatch to the plastic case. Rachel seems even smaller as she's put into my arms. She still has the wire attached to her foot. She is small and fragile and warm. She keeps her eyes closed, she doesn't open them for me. I'm not her mother. Her hands are tiny. Her fingers are curled tight into balls. I put one of my fingers into her hand and her fingers grip mine, like we're holding hands. My eyes are filling with tears for this little girl that saved my life and my love. This little girl that might have taken that love away, even if that was not her fault. Regardless, my life will go on, because of this life in my arms. I need to be strong for her, because now she might just be all that I have.
"I'm sorry," Elle says. "We're keeping her warm and the oxygen up to her. We'll have to put her back in."
"Can I?" Wendy asks. She takes Rachel from me and carefully places her back onto the case. Elle makes some adjustments and closes the door again.
"You can hold her hand through these ports here," Elle says, pointing to the hole set at various places. They're lined with plastic to form a seal between arm and hole to keep the oxygen in.
"How long is she going to be in here," Jen asks.
"We'll see. A few days perhaps. She's doing really well though."
"There's a few people out in the waiting room that will like to see her."
"Of course. Dad can stay, but we can bring one or two in and out so everyone can see her."
"I can organise that," Wendy says, picking up her handbag. She leaves.
"I'll go when the other visitors start rolling in," Jen says to me, putting a hand on my arm. "I need another cigarette."
I sit and Jen sits next to me with a deep sigh.
"Quinn will be okay," she says. Her voice does not convince me.
"You don't know that," I say quietly.
"I know, but I'm trying to be positive."
"You saw what I saw. It's hard to believe she's going to make it after losing all that blood."
"They got her to the OR pretty damn quick, Judd. They'll fix her."
I nod. "You're right. We've got to believe that she'll survive."
"And she's a fighter. And she's a mother. She'll pull through for your little girl. I know it. She's wanted her for so long. She won't go just as she gets her." She sits back in her chair. "Damn, I'm tired. But I won't be able to sleep, not until I know Quinn's okay." Her stomach growls. "And I'm hungry."
"You didn't eat anything?"
"I raided the vending machine. There's nothing substantial in there."
"Make sure you get something," I say.
"You too," Jen says back. "When have you last eaten?"
"I have no idea."
"I can bring you something, if you'd like."
"I don't know if I can eat in here."
The room is full of cots, full of babies. It's dark. Lamps light the corners, near each cot. It's a strange mix of sterile and baby room. There are no other visitors except for Jen and me.
"Just let them try and stop you. You'll pass out and they'll have two patients."
I chuckle. "You're right."
Quinn's parents appear at the door and Jen stands. "That's my cue," she says. She places a hand on my shoulder and kisses my head. "I'll be back with a sandwich or something when everyone's had a visit. You stay strong, okay? And let us know if you hear anything."
I nod and Jen departs. Beverly and Frank approach and the procession of visitors begin.
3.30am
Phillip and Chelsea leave me. I sit there for half an hour, all by myself, just starring at my daughter, blissfully sleeping, blissfully unaware. It's been three hours since Quinn went into the OR. I haven't heard anything.
I didn't have a chance to say goodbye. I didn't have a chance to say that I love her. Didn't get a chance to say that I'm proud of her. After everything that's happened between us, it can't end like this.
Jen comes in with a half-smile that fails in its attempt to buoy my spirits. She's holding two sandwiches, encased in clear plastic. Vending machine sandwiches. At this hour that's all that's available. It's better than concentrated starch or sugar.
"Any news," she asks.
I shake my head.
"Here." She passes one of the packets and sits next to me,
starts to open hers.
"How was your cigarette?" I ask her.
"At this rate I'll be back on them again. Crap, it was hard to quit the first time. It's going to be diabolical the second." She laughs a little. "You know what they're doing out there?"
"Who?"
"Everyone. In the waiting room."
"What?"
"Praying."
I chuckle with her. "Praying?"
But even as I'm laughing with Quinn's friend, my friend, my mind is starting to work for the first time in two hours. I'm remembering my time with her. I'm remembering all the things that she's said to me:
"Mary had a little assignment for me too," she said. "She wanted me to pray for you. I said I wasn't religious, and she said that's okay. The exercise is to think about someone else, you actually, and pray for them every night."
"Pray to God?" I asked her.
"Whoever. God, the universe, it doesn't matter. The point is, I'm to pray for you, that you have the best, that you're safe, that you're loved and wanted and cared for."
"And how's that going?"
"I don't know. Why don't you tell me? Do you feel all those things?"
"Yeah," I told her happily.
"I keep thinking that everything that's happened to us has been exactly what we needed to bring us here." Quinn sits on our lounge next to me. It's late.
"What do you mean?"
"I just mean that we were stagnating. We'd have either accepted a shitty marriage or broken up never to see each other again. I know Wade was a mistake - it was so wrong on so many levels - but it pushed us to make a choice. Our baby pushed us to make a choice. Now here we are."
"You're suggesting fate was playing with us?"
"Or some plan. Maybe God."
"You don't believe in God."
"I never said that. I just didn't think, if there is one, that he gives a crap about us."
"Now you're saying he does."
"Maybe. Or maybe it is fate. I don't know."
She stands and stretches, then walks down to our room while I clean up and turn off the lights. She's in bed by the time I'm heading into the shower and asleep when I come out. I was hoping to make love to her tonight. I felt I was ready. But she is exhausted and I don't have the heart to wake her.
I switch off her lamp and slide in quietly next to her and close my eyes. I pray for her, like she has been doing for me. I don't know if anyone will hear me. I don't know if there is a God up there listening and I don't care. I pray to the universe or fate or God. I want her to be happy and to have all the best things in life. I want her to have wonder and love and joy and security. If I can give her those things, then I will with all my power. And I want her to be strong and healthy, and I want our baby to grow inside her, protected and loved. I fall into sleep praying life into her, into us.
"You are that man, not Wade. I fell in love with you, Judd. And I've stayed in love with all these years, even when I was with him, and you have to know how hard that was for me: loving you and being with him like that. But in the end I came back to you."
"Because he rejected you."
She shakes her head sadly. "When I saw you again my heart was breaking again. I saw the pain in you and I felt it too. Judd, you're the man I was always going to return to, and Wade knew it too. He knew I was going to leave him."
"But you didn't know that I was going to take you back."
"No. But that didn't matter. I hoped for it, prayed for it, but if you didn't then I was just going to have to live with what I'd done. But I know you, Judd. I knew that you weren't going to leave me and Rachel. I knew that you'd come back to me eventually and that you'd forgive me."
"I know that we haven't talked about Christmas yet, but it is next week. I think I'd like to go to church with my family before lunch at the house."
We'd always avoided the morning service, dropping into their house sometime after