The Other Fish in the Sea (Grab Your Pole, #2)

by Jenn Cooksey

  “So! Who does this little lady get to thank for the excellent first-aid before the EMTs got to her?” A second(?) doctor asked, walking through my curtain while reading something medical looking on a clipboard. I say second(?) because I’m not entirely sure out of all the people who’ve looked at me how many were actual doctors, but I think there was only one before.

  I looked at my sister and my boyfriend and managed a small smile when Jillian didn’t even look up from what she was reading, pointed to Tristan and said, “I only supplied the towel.”

  “You trained?” He asked Tristan while reading, nodding and flipping over papers on my chart.

  “Yep, being a lifeguard I’ve seen enough kids slip and smack their heads on the pool deck to know what a concussion looks like. Is it a three?”

  The doctor set the clipboard down, pulled on some gloves and then spoke directly to Tristan while he looked at my head. “Mm-hm, but it’s not bad. I’m only calling it that instead of a two because she lost consciousness at the scene…after we get these lacerations sutured we’ll probably let her go home…”

  Now mind you, I’m sitting right here but they’re talking about me like I’m down the hall or something, which is irritating beyond belief. Also, I didn’t know I was a possible candidate for a sleepover here and I really don’t want that, so I was considering whether or not to tell the doctor how bad my head hurt and then realized with a start how stupid it would be if I didn’t.

  “My head is really killing me and my wrist still hurts,” I admitted to the doctor.

  He took out his little penlight, checking me out like the half-dozen other people who’ve been in here, and finally addressed me. “Mm-hm, I’m sure you have a whopper of a headache and you can expect to feel all kinds of aches and pains in the next few days, but your CT came back normal, your pupils look good and the rest of your diagnostics are fine so unless you start vomiting, I don’t see why you can’t go home tonight. I will want someone who knows what to look for watching over you for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours or so and if any symptoms reappear or worsen in the next seven to ten days, you are to high-tail it back here…your x-ray doesn’t show a break so we’ll just immobilize your wrist for now and you can ice it for twenty minutes at a time…so, no known allergies aside from hay fever and you aren’t a fan of Vicodin…well, not to worry, you don’t need narcotics…how does some plain old Tylenol sound?”

  “Sounds good…” I guess. As long as it doesn’t make me nauseous like Vicodin does and the pain goes away, I’ll be happy.

  “Alright, I’ll write this up and someone should be in here soon to fix you up.”

  You know, it always amazes me how little actual time doctors spend with patients…not that I’m complaining, but still.

  The doctor left and Jillian excused herself to go call my mom and dad. I think she’s bored out of her skull and she’s just using that as an excuse to get out of here for a while. I mean come on, can you blame her? We’ve been here for something like three hours already and if I wasn’t forced to be here, I’d take off with her.

  Someone did, in fact, show up relatively soon to “fix me up,” but let me just say, getting stitches in your head is far and away from being the most pleasant experience. I’m just thankful both the cuts needing to be sutured were right above my hairline and they didn’t have to shave away any of my hair to do it. I got nine stitches on one cut, five on the other and a butterfly bandage under my chin that had been split open without me even knowing it. Eventually my hand was wrapped all the way to my elbow in an ACE bandage and I was good to go. I was starting to wonder again about how Kate was doing when Tristan walked back in with my dad on his heels.

  My dad looked sort of haggard and none too happy to see his daughter wearing bandages and bloody clothes, but he gave me a smile and told me Tristan was going to stay the night to watch over me. It was that second doctor who’d spoken with him and my dad out in the hall and he’s the one who recommended my lifeguard friend for “Camie Watch” because Tristan is CPR and first aid certified, knows all the warning signs to look for and can drive me back to the hospital if need be.

  We were waiting for my dad to get all my recuperative instructions and sign all the discharge paperwork at the counter when Tristan’s parents appeared from around a corner heading towards a trauma room. Tristan barely noticed them at first but then he did a double-take, swore under his breath and muttered something like “lost it.”

  I tugged on his arm to look at him in question and with what I would swear were tears in his eyes he whispered, “Kate lost the baby (WTF?)…I’ll be right back.”

  He took off at a jog, had a very brief conversation with his mom who took his face in her hands, bringing his head down to her to kiss his cheek. His dad however, didn’t even stop to acknowledge him before he disappeared into the room. Then Tristan came back to me, having just wiped his eyes. I must have looked as shocked as I was (Kate is—I mean was pregnant?!) because he sighed, ran his hand through his hair and then whispered he’d tell me later when we were alone.

  Thankfully that wasn’t very long. We got home and found that Pete had been there and gone. All of our stuff, Kate’s included, was in a corner by the stairs, and the hide-a-bed in the family room had been made up with a new memory foam mattress and new sheets—thank God. Sleeping on a pullout couch mattress is uncomfortable to begin with, so I can’t imagine sleeping on one after being battered in a car accident would be very restful. There was also a pizza in the fridge along with pre-cut fruit, muffins and donuts for breakfast, all of which, according to my mom, had been Pete’s doing. Tristan and I were to spend the night downstairs on the couch so if I had to go back to the ER in the middle of the night, we didn’t need to worry about the stairs. Also, the family room doesn’t have a door with a lock on it like my bedroom does. Not that my parents are thinking we’ll be fooling around or anything, I’m just saying…

  Feeling the bruises that wouldn’t show up until tomorrow, I slowly struggled into my jammies, said goodnight to my parents and my unusually somber sister and then, after he made me drink a glass of water, I let Tristan tuck me into bed. That’s more of what recovering from my ordeal entails...lots of rest and lots of fluids. He turned the lights out and the TV on, but I learned that was only so it wouldn’t be easy to overhear what we were going to be talking about.

  “So she didn’t tell you either?” Tristan asked, being very careful to not jostle me as he propped himself up so he was sitting next to me in the bed.

  “No, I had no idea…how did you know, did Jeff tell you?”

  “He didn’t say one fuckin’ word about it.”

  “W—So how’d you know?”

  He ran his hands through his hair while blowing out an exhausted sounding breath before shifting to get a little more comfy. “I dunno, it was a bunch of little things…the first thing that made me think of it was when I found the fuckin’ engagement ring in her purse on Halloween…I was searching for gum, remember? No gum but I found that…anyway, when I thought about it again, Jeff proposing wasn’t that much of a surprise. He’s wanted to marry her for as long as I can remember so I put it out of my mind. Then I noticed she was eating like a pig but losing weight everywhere except in her rack, which has been getting bigger (of course he would notice that…), she was distracted, she was always tired and looked like shit every morning, she wasn’t drinking in the desert—”

  “Wait, I thought you said her drink was strong…”

  “I was being sarcastic, Camie, it was plain red Gatorade.”

  “Oh.” Huh. I never had a clue she wasn’t drinking what everyone thought she was drinking. Shows you how observant I am, doesn’t it?

  “Yeah. Then she stuck that bucket in front of you when you said you were gonna be sick. It was just so damned convenient, you know? Plus she even said she felt sick that morning, but she blamed it on the smell…it’s never bugged her before. She’s also been really emotional, and yeah I know she’s had a
lotta shit goin’ on, but still…it was different. Even with all of that though, I wasn’t sure…but tonight when my parents showed up, I knew…I just fuckin’ knew. There’s no other explanation for why they would’ve been called in…I just don’t know why he didn’t tell me. Fuck, Camie, this is huge…”

  It seemed like Tristan was having a hard time grappling with all this and I can sort of identify with him on not having your best friend clue you in on something this major, but I’m kind of thinking that maybe Kate and Jeff were just biding their time before telling everyone. I mean, I’ve always heard it’s bad luck to tell people you’re pregnant before twelve weeks, and not that they’re superstitious, but if they were planning on keeping the baby, which I’m totally sure they were, maybe they just didn’t know how to drop this kind of bombshell and were stalling for time or something.

  “I’m sure they had a reason for not saying something…I don’t think they meant to be hurtful or anything.” Tristan sighed while nodding his understanding and agreement, but then I remembered what he’d said about his parents being the clincher. “Why were your parents there tonight?”

  He rubbed at his face again and then looked at me sadly for a quiet moment. “My mom told me Jeff called my dad completely out of his mind with grief…” I knew there was more so I just waited. “Camie, he called because my parents have lived this…they’re fuckin’ experts on losing babies.”

  “What?” I know I heard him right, but I’m thinking my head injury might be messing with my comprehension skills because I don’t get it. How can you be an expert on losing babies?

  Tristan sighed deeply again and this time, he explained more fully. “You wanna know why my parents practically worship the ground I walk on?” I nodded while he took my hand; his was trembling just barely. He held it on his lap and then continued, “I’m their miracle baby. The only one that made it. It all started with an accident, but, they didn’t care…neither did their parents. My mom graduated high school married and almost seven months pregnant, and she went to term that first time…but, my sister died in delivery.

  “My mom and dad were shattered but after falling in love with her and having their hearts set on being parents, they didn’t give up trying to have a family. They waited a little bit, tried again and got pregnant about a year after losing Sophie. She lost it around two months. That was my mom’s first miscarriage. Just under a year later, she had another one. Then when she made it past six months and they thought they were in the clear, she lost another little girl…her name was Thalia, you know, like one of the Three Graces?” I nodded when he paused to take a shaky breath and see if I knew what he was talking about.

  Thalia was the Greek muse of comedy and yeah, I’m a tear-soaked, snotty mess now. If having just gone through a traumatic car accident, finding out my best friend was pregnant and no longer is, and now hearing his would be sisters’ names hadn’t brought me to my knees, seeing the naked love for his parents etched in his face and recognizing the raw emotion in his voice totally would.

  “My mom actually had to go through labor and deliver her…because of that, I think that one was the hardest for them because after her, they almost quit trying. The doctors couldn’t give them any medical reason for why my mom couldn’t carry a baby full-term…Sophie’s cord wrapped around her neck in delivery, it was just a freak accident, you know, there was no problem with that pregnancy so, my parents just started thinking they weren’t supposed to have a baby of their own. They talked about using a surrogate or adopting but just didn’t feel like either was the right thing for them, so they threw those options out and decided to be done with it altogether.

  “Then Grey moved back to town… The three of them got together and they were reminiscing…they say there was just something about that night, you know, remembering everything they went through the first time and why they did it, and then Grey’s deep belief that they shouldn’t give up…so, they tried one last time. It worked. When I was about two years old, they weren’t really trying for another one, but my mom got pregnant again and lost it around four months,” Tristan took a deep breath and then gave me a small, watery smile, having finished his miraculous birth story. “So…now can you understand why my parents essentially cater to my every whim and why Jeff would wanna talk to my dad tonight?”

  All I could do was nod and wipe my tears and runny nose with the one hand he wasn’t holding, which happened to be conveniently absorbent as it was the one with the ACE bandage on it. Six pregnancies…SIX! And one beautiful baby boy.

  The next time I see his parents I think I’ll be hard pressed to not run up and throw my arms around them in earnest thanks for not giving up even though their hearts must’ve bled out with all the failed attempts.

  He chuckled at me and helped me wipe my face. “Did you know I’m named after the three of them?” I shook my head. “Yeah, my parents took the first part of their first names and brought them together to make my first name and they used Grey’s middle name for mine.”

  I always giggle about his middle name being Jack…you know, “Jack Daniels?” But knowing how he got it, I doubt I’ll giggle about it anymore. By the way, Grey’s full name is Greyson. It was his grandmother’s maiden name…just thought you might be interested since we’re talking about names. Oh and Jeff’s full first name isn’t actually Jeffery like you might think, it’s Jefferson. It was his mom’s last name.

  I cuddled up next to him and Tristan told me about how his parents met when they were little and that it was more or less his grandparents’ doing that they both learned to fly and were certified when they were only fourteen. His grandparents were neighbors and flying enthusiasts. They build planes together as a hobby, fly them to air shows and all kinds of stuff like that. They actually relocated together to something called an Airpark in northern California about ten years ago where they can house their planes in hangars right next to their homes like a garage for your cars, and not only that, but the residential streets are really wide and double as taxiways to the adjacent airport. Seriously, flying enthusiasts indeed! When two of their children, Tristan’s parents, developed a romantic relationship early on in high school, they were more than supportive, encouraged their marriage and were excited about becoming grandparents as well when his mom accidentally got pregnant that first time. When Trinity lost Sophie and they were waiting to try to get pregnant again, Tristan’s parents poured themselves into getting their flight certifications that would allow them to fly commercial planes if they ever decided they wanted to work. Through all this, I’ve come to understand that his parents are exceptionally devoted, determined and passionate individuals, whom I can’t help but adore and also admire.

  We talked about Kate and Jeff for only a little bit. Neither of us thinks we should tell them we know or ask them about the baby. If they want to talk about it they know we’ll listen, so we’re just going to be silent support until they do. Then, while we were watching TV, silently contemplating everything we’ve learned in the first forty-eight hours of our “Winter Break,” Tristan put me to sleep by softly stroking my hair. He woke me up a few times during the night to make sure I wasn’t dead or brain hemorrhaging, though. As I was falling back to sleep one of those times, and I can’t be sure because of my brain trauma, but I think, I think maybe he whispered those three little words I’ve been wanting to hear when he gingerly brushed a kiss across my forehead.

  It could’ve just as easily been a dream, though, because I’m tellin’ ya, I must’ve had some doozies that night. I say that because when I woke up in the morning, Tristan was still sort of asleep but he looked at me with a funny kind of skeptical light out of the corner of his eye and informed me I’d been talking in my sleep. Apparently I pronounced that a schilling, which is a British coin not even being used anymore, should be made of silver not nickel, I recited the last line of the Phineas and Ferb theme song being “Mom! Phineas and Ferb are making a title sequence!” I also quoted the movie Dirty Dancing, saying, “Nobody
puts Baby in the corner,” and then I said something else about bunnies being scary, but then later I said dragons are warm and cuddly and they really enjoy dark chocolate. I mean come on, that’s obvious…who doesn’t enjoy dark chocolate? The “Baby” quote was easy to figure out, Tristan calls me baby more often than Camie, and I know where the scary bunnies came from too, as a character in the later seasons of Buffy was afraid of bunnies, but I’m not sure about the dragon thing. I think the schilling pronouncement was from another movie called Lady Jane, though. And since I have no recollection of dreaming this stuff or saying anything about it, combined with his funny look, it made me wonder what else I admitted in my sleep delirium…

  17.

  Foreboding Entertainment & A Formal Pet Peeve

  Like I knew they would, the bruises made their ugly appearance the next day. I got up slowly and painfully from the sofa and while going through an abbreviated version of my normal morning routine, I took a physical inventory in the bathroom mirror. All I can say is ugh. Also, I am to be essentially confined to the foldout couch for most of the week (again, ugh) so I’m pretty flippin’ glad I already got all my Christmas shopping finished.

  My mom still wasn’t feeling well in the morning as she has the flu…I’m sure you can imagine for someone with cancer, the recovery from a twenty-four flu bug will take considerably longer so, Jillian was gonna make me breakfast. However, Tristan was kind of taking his “Camie Watch” job pretty seriously and decided to pull on the apron once again. It sort of reminds me of how seriously he takes his parenting of Phineas and Ferb, which always makes me giggle. He did however, make Jill promise not to record anything, which she did without a fight. She’s still behaving atypically reserved after yesterday so I’m guessing that has a lot to do with it, plus she knows I would be uber-pissed if she used his concern for my well-being to bribe him.