The Sick Wife

by Lost, Loretta

  But then what?

  Can I marry her like we originally planned? What about Yvette? Can I tell my wife that I’m breaking up with her now, when she’s pregnant and carrying my baby—and depressed about it? I remove my hands from the doors and step backwards violently, nearly stumbling down the stairs. I know that Evie is probably only keeping the baby because she thinks it will make me happy, when she’s sworn to me for over ten years that she never wanted to have children. When she’s always been so diligent about her birth control—never missing a pill in her adult life. Until lately when she’s been comatose and sick, I guess.

  I don’t know how long a wedding lasts, but even if I don’t stop the wedding… if I’m still standing here when Milla comes out of that church… I will still take her away from her husband. I don’t care if she’s married or not—what bullshit words they say inside that building. I know that she belongs to me in her heart and soul. So, I need to decide now. Am I going to go in there and do something?

  Am I brave enough to end things with Evie?

  I close my eyes, clenching my fists. My heart is beating out of my chest.

  If I lay eyes on Milla, there will be no more decision to make. I know that in my bones. She is my soulmate, and if I can see her and touch her, I’m never going to let her go. There will be no other option after that. It will just be settled. We’ve dreamed too hard about this.

  Am I strong enough to do what needs to be done?

  I take a deep breath. Evie still needs me. But I know I can’t put Milla through the hell of making her wait for me even another day. Stop the wedding! I’m in love with you! Now go back to your apartment and wait alone for me for the next nine months while I stay with my wife and have a baby. And then wait alone for at least another five-ten years until the baby is old enough to have a normal childhood with me being his father, and then maybe after all of that, we can be together.

  “Fuck,” I say out loud. I really should have thought this through some more.

  I take a step back. And then another.

  What if this Mike guy is decent? What if he takes good care of Milla? What if he can make her happy to some degree. Be there for her every minute, like I never have been? I don’t want to step into that church, and become a bomb exploding all over the life Milla is trying to build. What if I can make Evie somewhat happy, and Mike can make Milla somewhat happy? Maybe that’s good enough? Maybe I need to do the smart thing and let her go. Think of all the players involved, and not just put my own desires above everyone else.

  And it’s not just about abandoning Yvette anymore. It’s about the baby.

  I muster up all my courage. I turn and walk away from the church.

  I won’t tell Milla I was here. It’s better that she doesn’t know. She is clearly trying her best to move on with her life, and I need to let her have that chance. I need to let her do whatever she needs to do in order to be okay.

  I pause for one second when I hear the church doors open. I turn back halfway, just wanting to look. I want to see her so badly. In person and not on video call. In her white dress. A dress I wish she was wearing for me.

  But I can’t. I know I won’t be strong enough to walk away after that. It kills me inside, but I drag myself away. I force myself to put one foot in front of the other and push my body from the church. I have to pick up the pace as I walk more briskly, and then break into a run that my newly smoke-damaged lungs can barely handle.

  I run away, out of her life forever.

  Chapter 33

  Yvette and I are finally at the clinic for her ultrasound. I’ve been home for a few days, mostly keeping to myself because I feel like a cantankerous old man. I’m snapping at everything. I’m angry, miserable, and awful to be around. But I’ve heard her moaning in pain a lot through the walls, and I am a bit worried.

  When the ultrasound technician squirts the jelly on Yvette’s lower abdomen, I sit beside her and hold her hand like I’m supposed to. I was hoping that she would grow happier with time, or that this would magically bring us closer and fix us, but it’s not working like that.

  “Hmmm. I need to get the doctor,” the ultrasound technician says. They heard us speaking in English, so they’ve been talking to us in English the whole time, assuming we are foreigners.

  “Is something wrong?” Evie asks.

  “Maybe. Just give me a minute.”

  “What do you think it looks like?” she asks me, looking at the image on the ultrasound screen.

  “I don’t know,” I answer. And I’m not sure why, but I can’t bring myself to feel good about the image on the screen. Something seems wrong, to me, even though I don’t know what I’m looking at.

  The doctor comes in then, and she shakes her head. She picks up the ultrasound wand and drags it over Yvette’s stomach again. “Is it okay if we do a transvaginal ultrasound instead?” she asks us. “I need to insert the wand.”

  “Sure,” Yvette says with surprise.

  “Please lift your knees for me,” the doctor says, positioning her. She then pulls out a different wand and pulls a condom down over it before squirting jelly on the end. She then inserts the wand carefully while studying the screen.

  I look at the black and white images, but I don’t really understand them.

  “Yes, unfortunately, this doesn’t look good,” the doctor says. “The uterus is empty.”

  “Empty?” Yvette asks, sounding almost hopeful. “So, I’m not pregnant?”

  “You are… but unfortunately, it’s an ectopic pregnancy, Yvette. The implantation occurred in the fallopian tube. This is why it’s been causing you so much intense pain. The embryo has been growing, and you’re lucky the tube hasn’t ruptured yet, but we will need to operate. It will not be viable.”

  “Not viable?” I ask.

  “Yes,” the doctor responds. “The embryo can’t survive outside the uterus, without nourishment from the placenta, proper blood flow and nutrition. In this current position, it also poses a risk to Yvette’s life. If the tube bursts, she could bleed out and die.”

  “What caused this?” I ask the doctor. I have to sit down now, beside Yvette. I hold her hand and try to process everything.

  “There are a lot of risk factors. It’s pretty rare, about 1 in 100 pregnancies. Usually I see it in women who are smokers, but there are a lot of other risk factors, too.”

  “Dammit,” Yvette says. “The smoking again. It ruins everything.”

  “It’s a nasty habit,” the doctor agrees. “So, I’ll have to schedule this surgery fairly quickly if we want to save your fallopian tube. I have some time this afternoon when I could perform the laparoscopy, if that works?”

  “Yes,” Yvette says softly. “That works. While you’re in there, taking it out of my fallopian tube—can I get my tubes tied? I don’t want to have children, and I don’t want this to happen again.”

  The doctor hesitates. “Are you sure? You’re only 35, and you might change your mind…”

  “I’m absolutely sure. I’ve been sure my whole life. And being pregnant for the past few weeks has made me miserable as fuck, and I am only more certain now. If I ever want to have children in the future, I will adopt them.”

  Every word she says stabs me in the heart a little bit.

  I stare at the image on the screen, feeling a sense of loss for the person I was already hoping to meet. An innocent little human who never had a chance at survival.

  The doctor notices me staring at the screen. “Would you like a printout of that image? I know some parents find it comforting.”

  “Yes, please,” I tell her. It’s the only picture of my baby that I’ll ever have. I don’t want to forget him or her, and that it was almost possible for them to grow into a person. If only it had implanted in the right location… but his or her mother’s body was not healthy enough

  Fuck! I will quit smoking after this. I swear to God and Nietzsche. I’m done with smoking. I will never have a cigarette again. It’s like a sign from the
universe, a sign from my mother’s spirit—I can’t keep doing this. Not if it has the power to harm an unborn child, to take that child away from me.

  Then something else strikes me. The realization of what Yvette just asked the doctor.

  Was this my only chance at ever having a child with her?

  The doctor hands me the printout of the ultrasound, of a failed pregnancy. A sad bundle of cells that will never get a chance to develop into a baby and be born.

  “Evie,” I say softly.

  “I can’t do it again,” she says, already knowing what I am thinking. “I’m so sorry, Gabriel. I know how badly you wanted this. But I’m just not the woman for the job.”

  Shit. Of course. She’s bailing on me.

  I should have walked into that church and stopped that wedding… if I had known. If I’d had even one more week to figure this out…

  “It’s impressive that the embryo kept growing for seven weeks in the fallopian tube,” the doctor says. “Usually it wouldn’t get this large.”

  I am too busy staring at the image and grieving what might have been, that I don’t realize what the doctor actually said.

  Yvette, on the other hand, is staring to hyperventilate. “What—what did you say? Seven weeks? Why did you say that?”

  “The ultrasound estimates the age of the embryo from its size,” the doctor explains. “Yours looks to be about seven weeks.”

  “That’s impossible,” Yvette says. “Is there any way it could be wrong? Please. Please, doctor.”

  I look up from the picture, confused by her reaction. And then it dawns on me.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, as chills run through my body.

  “The ultrasound dating usually confirms the gestational age with great accuracy,” the doctor explains. “Why? What seems to be the problem?”

  “The problem?” Yvette says, and her face has grown very pale. “The problem is that seven weeks ago, I was in a fucking coma.”

  Chapter 34

  The doctor looks at us both with horror.

  I am still processing this information. I wrap my arm around Evie’s shoulders, because I realize that she is shaking. “Those nightmares you’ve been having,” I whisper softly to her.

  “Yes,” she answers with a shudder.

  “You’ve only been in France for five weeks,” I say slowly. “And we only had sex about… four weeks ago?”

  “Oh my god, Gabe,” Yvette says hoarsely. She buries her face in my shoulder. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “What are you apologizing for? This was done to you.” I rub her back gently, trying to comfort her. But my voice is furious, and the ultrasound printout crumples in my hand. “Do you know who did this?”

  “Yes,” she answers weakly. “I think so.”

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor interrupts. “Are you saying this pregnancy is the result of a sexual assault?”

  “Yes,” Yvette says again. “I think I’m going to throw up. I was unconscious.”

  I am scowling. “What kind of a sick and twisted piece of shit has sex with a girl in a coma?”

  “It happens more than we realize,” the doctor answers, shaking her head with disgust. “But I’m sorry it happened to you, Yvette. Is there anything I can do? If you’re going to seek legal action—we can save the embryo and perform a DNA analysis to identify who assaulted you.”

  “Yes,” Yvette says. “I need that.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say “yes” so many times in the decade I’ve known her. She looks so weak and defeated. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close.

  “Excuse me for a minute. I’m so sorry,” the doctor says, leaving the room.

  “Gabe,” Evie says brokenly. “I only ever considered having the baby because I thought it was yours. I know how much you wanted this, and I wanted to be the one to give it to you. I wanted to make you happy. But I can’t.”

  “It’s okay. Shhh, don’t worry about that now.”

  “If I had known it wasn’t yours…” she shakes her head in horror. “I can’t believe this. I guess we will never be fixed now.”

  “Evie… I hate to break it to you, sweetheart. But the pregnancy wasn’t fixing us at all.” I smile sadly, and rub my hand over her hair. “Let’s forget about us for a second. Someone hurt you, and I need to know who it was. What do you remember?”

  She swallows and stares into space. Her eyes are vacant and faraway, like she’s back in America, back in that coma. Like it’s happening to her again. Now I know why she’s been like this. And I want justice for her—if she wants justice for herself.

  “Who was it?” I ask again, softly.

  “I have to tell you something…” she says with a shudder. “Milla knew, but I don’t think she ever told you. That was kind of her.”

  Even hearing the name causes an ache in my chest. “What did Milla know?”

  “I was seeing someone before I got sick,” Evie explains. “It was just a casual sex thing, but he ended up getting a little creepy, and I started avoiding him. But then I got sick…”

  “And this person visited you in the hospital?” I ask her.

  She laughs. “You don’t understand. When I got sick, I picked up his phone call and asked him for help… because he’s an ICU doctor. So he told me that if I came into his hospital, he would offer me the best possible care…”

  “No,” I say softly. “No, no, no. Do not say what I think you’re going to say.”

  “It was Dr. Mike Masterson.”

  “Fuck!” I shout. I have to stand up and step away from Evie, because a wave of rage courses through me. I grab the ultrasound machine and smash it into the floor.

  “Gabe!” Evie says. “That looks expensive.”

  “Does it look like I care right now? Camilla just married that fucker!”

  “What?” Evie asks. “That’s ridiculous. Why would she do that? She’s in love with you.”

  “And she thought I was having a baby with you. I told her never to speak to me again,” I say brokenly.

  “Okay, let’s forget about us for a minute and focus on Milla,” Yvette says, sitting up straight and lifting her hand. “She could be in danger. Mike used to do this thing where he would tie me up so I couldn’t move… and he would keep my phone far away from me. I felt really unsafe. I thought it was all in my head, and maybe I just wasn’t freaky enough to enjoy his fetishes, but… oh god, Gabe.”

  “Do you think he would hurt Milla?” I ask her.

  “Yes. Easily. Milla is too innocent, and she won’t see through his polite, fake crap.”

  “Fuck. They’ve been married for days now. I stood outside that church and I know I could have stopped the wedding, but I was too much of a pussy to go inside.”

  Yvette gets up and slaps me across the face. She’s stronger now, and it actually stings.

  “I’m sorry I lied about going to America,” I tell her. “I just…”

  “I knew where you went, you idiot. I didn’t even expect you to come back. I’m slapping you because you love that girl and you flew across the world to see her and you let her marry the asshole who raped me.”

  I stare at her for a minute. “We need to call and check on her.” With shaking hands, I reach for my phone and dial Milla. There is no answer. “She might have blocked me.”

  “Or he’s taken her phone,” Yvette says.

  The thought gives me chills. “We should call the police to check on her.”

  “Yes, call them right away. He’s dangerous. You know—I really believe that if it was up to him, they would have kept me on that ventilator forever? Gabe… it was worse than being dead. He was never going to let me wake up.”

  We stare at each other, horrified by the thought. Every single day she was on that machine caused so much harm to her body. How many weeks did he steal from her? How long was it necessary for her to be in a coma, and how long was she only there for his amusement? She must feel so violated.

  “God,” Yvette sa
ys, clutching her abdomen. “It hurts so much. If they couldn’t schedule me for surgery today, I would want to grab a knife and cut this thing out of me right now.”

  “Evie,” I say, moving closer and touching her leg.

  “I’m fine. I just can’t wait for them to rip it out of me. Does Milla have a friend we can contact? What about that nurse who was always spending time with her, the one who wears a lot of pink?”

  “Veronica? I think I saw her tagged in Milla’s Instagram post recently, I can try to contact her there…”

  “Yes, please do that,” Yvette says, wincing in pain, but with venom and strength in her voice. “I want to bring this fucker down. He needs to lose his medical license and be put in prison for a very long time.”

  Chapter 35

  The doctor was very understanding about the ultrasound machine, considering the circumstances. They have insurance for that.

  Sometimes when you find out your wife was impregnated by some creep while she was asleep… you just have to break whatever is nearby. It’s standard. But it’s also frustrating when the creep’s new wife is the person who was supposed to be your new wife. Fuck. I should have smashed that ultrasound machine some more. I’ve called Milla dozens of times and she won’t pick up. Is he touching her right now? Is he hurting her?

  If so, it’s my fault. Because I didn’t have the courage to go into that church and stop this. Fuck me.

  Yvette’s surgery went well, and it was fairly fast. They refused to tie her tubes at the same time, saying that the sexual assault was a traumatic experience that could be temporarily clouding her judgment. I called the police hours ago, and explained the situation, and asked them to check on Milla. There hasn’t been any news.

  I contacted Veronica on Instagram and asked her to call me. I sent her some minor details so she would understand the urgency. But I haven’t heard from her yet—she’s probably busy at work.