"It's nothing, Aisley," I say. I try to smile, but the nausea makes my face hurt. "Just a nightmare." Aisley nods her head and spreads out on the mattress on her back. A bandage covers her forearm with a light pink ameba-shaped stain in the middle. "What happened?" I ask grateful to get off the subject of my nightmare.
Aisley eyes the vent in my bedroom and shakes her head. "Biology lab stuff," she says. "Clumsy me broke a test tube." She looks up at me, her eyes saying something completely the opposite, but she looks away before I can ask more.
"Did you eat?"
"Yeah, did you?"
I shake my head. "I just woke up."
"Just woke up?" Aisley laughs from her gut and rolls on her back. "Man, you're old!"
"I'm pregnant," I respond, and Aisley laughs even harder.
"I remember when I was allowed to sleep in!" she laughs. "Come on, I'll cook you breakfast."
“Go on ahead,” I say swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
"All right, but no complaining if it's all gone before you get out here!" Aisley calls outside the doorway. I waddle my way to the bathroom and close the door behind me. I run the water in the sink and splash it on my face. My face is milky with flushed cheeks. I feel sick, but I swallow a handful of water regardless. Pull yourself together, Hayley. You've got more than yourself to worry about here. I swallow another handful of water and dry off my face.
"It's ready!" Aisley calls from the kitchen. I hear the front door open and close—someone else is here.
I breathe in deep and exhale as I open the door. "Coming," I say with as much happiness as I can fake. The smell of bacon and eggs sweep my nausea away. "Smells great," I comment as I walk into the kitchen.
"Mom, Doctor Banks came to see how you were doing," Aisley says. She leans away from him towards the knives on the kitchen counter.
"Isha, right?" I ask. He nods his head.
"I see your memories are coming together nicely," he adds. I smile and watch Aisley step away from the knives. “Just a routine visit now that you’re out of Rehabilitation,” he continues. He places a leather bag onto our kitchen table and pulls out a seat for me.
“Thank you,” I respond and sit uncomfortably in the wood chair.
“I’m just hear to check your pulse and take some notes,” he says opening his bag. I nod my head and eye Aisley from over his shoulder. She’s staring at Isha with an expression I can’t get a hold on. I clear my throat in part to break the silence, but also to see Aisley’s expression. Both Isha and Aisley stare at me with a look of confusion. “Um,” I begin. I look around for something to have a conversation about, but everything is so plain and neat. “So, how do I look, Isha?”
Aisley slaps her hand over her mouth and stifles a laugh. Isha’s mouth twitches into a smile, but he doesn’t answer. He slides the cool stethoscope over the skin of my chest. I watch his eyes to see if there’s anything wrong—what if something is wrong? I hold the bulge in my stomach. I would die if anything happened to our baby.
“Can you take a deep breath for me, Ms. Hender—Hayley?” Isha asks turning his ocean gaze up to me.
I nod my head and attempt to breathe, but I fail to slow my racing heart. Isha frowns and moves his stethoscope to an area above my collarbone. “I’m sorry, I get so nervous around doctors,” I let spill out of my mouth. “I’ve got a rap sheet when it comes to them.”
He laughs softly and pulls the cool metal of the stethoscope from my chest. “It’s quite all right. I never liked doctors myself, until I saw how much they could do to help people,” he responds. I smile slightly, and he motions to my stomach. “If it’s all right, I’d like to hear the baby’s heartbeat.”
I nod my head, and Isha reaches up my shirt placing the stethoscope down gently. For some reason, Isha seems like the type I can trust. I’ve been thrown so much information in the past couple of hours that I’m feeling more lost than safe.
On one hand, I trust no one but Aisley. She and I have been through more than anyone else here. It seems like we’re the only two still functioning fully after running for months on the road.
But on the other hand, Isha reminds me of Xavier. He’s looking out for everyone. He was the only person who didn’t treat me like I was delusional right off the bat, and I couldn’t thank him more for that. I clearly didn’t have my head on straight when I first woke up, even after Aisley’s warnings. He could have had me sedated like that other nurse—what ever happened to her?
“Sounds perfect,” Isha says packing up the stethoscope. “Your heartbeat is a little high, but I’m positive it’s just nerves.” He flashes a smile, and I can’t help but attempt one myself. Aisley coughs and glares at me.
I can only assume what she must think—here I am smiling at Doctor Isha while the father to my child is running for his life somewhere. That is—if he’s still alive. I turn my head to the ground and swallow roughly.
“Well, I’m back to school, Mom,” she says, placing heavy emphasis on the word ‘Mom.’
“Take care of that lab injury now,” I respond. Even with my horrible lying skills, we’ve got this act down pretty well. Aisley runs to my room and grabs her backpack.
“Love you,” she says before closing the door.
Both Isha and I sit in silence for what seems like days. It’s not his fault it goes on for so long; I never was a conversation starter.
“Would you like to go for a walk with me?” he asks.
I look at the eggs and bacon Aisley cooked for me and feel my mouth water. “After some breakfast?” He smiles and nods his head.
Those eggs aren’t going to eat themselves.
Daily Routine
Breakfast pushes the nausea down again, and I can finally fake my happiness.
“So how’s the quarters treating you?” Isha asks folding his hands behind his back.
“Good,” I respond. I watch a group of kids, no older than Aisley’s age march in uniform past me. Their faces are painted with different shades of green and brown. The sight of them brings my nausea back in an instant.
“I’ll just be in advanced classes and weapons training until I’m old enough.”Aisley’s voice is so piercing in my head, my knees stagger.
“Hayley,” Isha says grabbing my arm. “Are you all right?” I want to say no, but instead I just smile. “Let’s sit,” he says guiding me towards a bench. “It’s nice enough out.”
“I’m really all right,” I respond too late. I sit on the bench and watch the children disappear behind the metal building where Aisley goes to school.
“They’re soldiers in training,” Isha comments.
I look over at him and scoff. “Soldiers? They can’t be more than 10.”
He nods his head. “It’s all for the protection of people like you.”
“People likeme?” I ask. I search his expression for some answer, but see nothing but blankness. I shake my head and look back to the metal building, my hand instinctively finding its place over my stomach. Is this what will happen to you? How long will this all be going on? How long until I can find your father and start a life?
“You think that’s going to happen to your child?” Isha states like a fact more than a question.
I whip my head around at him. I can’t explain the tears that are falling from my eyes, but I know what he said is true. “Is it?” I ask.
He breathes in deeply and turns his gaze away from me. Then, his expression widens, his jawline stiffens, and he springs off the bench. “Marieska!” Isha calls out across the fort’s grounds.
A girl with slightly darker skin than Isha sprints across the lawn into one of the white tents across from the general-academic buildings. I turn my gaze towards Isha
and see that his eyes are wide. He turns his head towards me and for a split second, I swear I can see fear in his gaze.
“Sorry,” he smiles. “I’m supposed to be showing you your routine today, aren’t I?”
“Right,” I respon
d. He holds out his arm, but I pull back instead. “I’m ok now,” I say. “I just got a little lightheaded before.” Isha folds his hand back into his pocket and nods his head.
“Of course,” he says. He tries to smile after, but I can hear the pang of disappointment even if he’s trying to hide it.
Who was that girl? I look back at the tent she ran into, but the makeshift door lies motionless. I look up at Isha, but his face has nothing to show.
“Your job is easy here,” he says. “Every morning, you’ll have a daily checkup with me and then at 1p.m., I’ll escort you to yoga sessions at our fitness and wellness center.” Isha points to a large rusted building on the far side of the complex. “It’s not a looker, I know,” he says I’m guessing because of my facial reaction. “But it’s a state of the art facility and all the second class loves the fitness classes offered.”
Great, just what I need. I look down at my swollen stomach—my toes don’t even exist anymore.
“It’s nothing too extensive,” he adds.
I look up at him and laugh. “Oh, well that’s good,” I say. “‘Cause I’m 95 percent sure I don’t have toes, and my body won’t be able to do pretty much anything at this point. I mean, what can someone like me do when I’ve been eating two C-Rations at every meal and had been sedated for six months.”
A soft laugh escapes his lips. “Let’s walk,” he says holding out an arm again. “I’ll take a little pressure off your feet while I can.”
I reach out for his arm this time. I lean on him more than needed not only because my feet are killing me, but I like holding onto something. For months, Aisley, Xavier and I ran. I can’t remember one moment where I actually felt safe back then—felt like I had something sturdy to fall back on.
I look down at Isha’s arm only wishing that it was Xavier’s. He should be the one escorting me around the fort, making me feel safe, feel like—everything is going to be ok. I look up at Isha’s face; his jaw muscles are taught, the vein in his neck pulsing furiously under his skin. His blue eyes seem to go on for miles. “Hayley?” he calls out.
How long have I been staring? I whip my head to the ground and try to think of some excuse, some reason why I was searching his eyes for something—or someone—that might have been in there.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I respond. “I—I didn’t sleep all too well last night.”
“You know, you’re more than welcome to come talk at my place,” he says. “I know things must difficult and confusing for you right now. You don’t have to go through that alone.”
I’m torn. My hormone-induced personality almost says yes, but I stop myself before the words escape my throat. The survivor in me is screaming that his charming act is all a mask. He has something he’s not telling, and I’m not opening up to him like a can of worms. If he wants to talk, he can come and do it on his own time.
But at the same time, I do want to know more about Isha, about Fort Ticonderoga, about everything, I guess. But something about this class system they have here makes my skin crawl.
Isha is first class. He’s a doctor. He could be one of the people watching in on Aisley and I during our time at home. Or anybody for that matter could be on the other end of our camera. Aisley told me the safest place to talk is in the open areas. There aren’t enough people or cameras around to catch what everyone is saying.
“I’d rather just go do some meditation or whatever,” I respond. “Get the blood flowing and all, you know?” Isha nods his head. He looks over his shoulder and guides me towards the rusted-out wellness center.
I walk into the open archway of the fitness center and grimace. A green rubberized track circles around red and blue sport court. A group of men are running carrying backpacks and assault rifles; most are almost purple in the face, two in particular collapse at my feet and dry heave on their hands and knees. I look up at Isha and then, back at the soldier.
“On your feet, soldier,” a man’s voice says. A man in a military suit walks across the blue sport court through a yoga class, nearly knocking over two people. I recognize him, somewhere between my muddled memories of before the fort and waking up.
“Ms. Henderson,” the man’s voice purrs. “Good to finally see you up and about.” He reaches out a hand, “I’m Corporal Gunnar. We met a couple of months ago.” I take a hold of his hand, and he brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it; they feel like the sandpaper skin of a lizard.
I flinch and try to pull my hand away without him noticing. “Um, you’ll have to forgive
me,” I respond in the steadiest voice I can muster. “My memory seems to be a little hazy for the time being.”
“In due time, Ms. Henderson,” he says. “You’ll remember.”
His voice still sends the same chill down my spine that it did months ago. He was there when I ripped my stitches. My hand falls to my stomach, and I feel the baby kicking.
“Doctor, don’t you have other patients that need tending to?” Gunnar says raising an eyebrow. “Clearly Ms. Henderson has her bearings now. You were only to monitor her for the first day.”
Isha’s jaw muscles flex, and he nods his head once before turning and walking off in the opposite direction. “Bye, Doctor,” I say trailing off at the end. Isha stalks away with his fists clenched, and his shoulders hunched. “He was just trying to help,” I say, the anger clearly not being hidden whatsoever. “I’ve been sedated for months. I’m a little thrown off track from my normal daily schedule.”
“And what daily schedule was that?” Gunnar responds. I clench my teeth and he smirks. “Last I checked, you were a vegetable and your daily routine involved sleeping for 24 hours straight while mumbling someone’s name in your sleep.”
I inhale sharply. I already know it was Xavier I was calling out for, but to only add more of a burn, Gunnar says, “Xavier. You called that name more so at night.”
I swallow the depression down and try to glare at him. I don’t know what to say—Gunnar pulled all the wrong strings at the right time, and now, my chest hurts. He smiles and squeezes my shoulder again before walking by me. I let my breath escape my lips and release my fists.
“You screamed his name during the daytime hours,” his voice whispers in my ear. “Sounded so anguished and heartbreaking too.”
I want to kill him. I want to drive a knife through his neck and let him bleed out in front of everyone. But I can’t do that. What would happen to all three of us here scares me more than anything. I let the silence answer him.
“Now, don’t be late for your class, Ms. Henderson,” Gunnar says squeezing my shoulder. “I’ve got my eye on you.”
Keturah
“Breathe in,” says the instructor. “Breathe out.”
We’ve been doing the same routine for the past five minutes, but I equate that to five hours. The exercise is supposed to relax you, get you to a higher state of consciousness. I haven’t felt a damn thing since the Corporal whispered in my ear; I still have goosebumps.
“It’s Hayley, right?” someone next to me says. A woman plops down next to me, and shoots out her hand. “I’m Keturah, but most people call me Kay.”
I smile and shake her hand. “Yeah, it’s Hayley.”
“I hate this stupid class, but it’s in my schedule,” she mutters. “And the Fort loves schedules.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
The instructor clears her throat and glares at us. She looks so familiar, but I don’t return her look for long. I close my eyes and try her meditation thing. Gunnar will be watching me—he made that very clear. I’ve got to stay under the radar.
“This stuff doesn’t really work for me so I usually just tune it out,” Keturah continues. “But it’s because I go to the hypnotist after these sessions.”
“The hypnotist?” I ask opening one eye. “Is that another class we can take?
“Not exactly,” she says. “But I can’t tell you where he is.” She chews on her bottom lip and
waits for my answer.
“Oh, that’s all right,” I respond. “I’m trying to blend in.”
“Blending in is dumb,” she says. “You can come with me if you’d like.”
“Why would I wanna go to a hypnotist?” I ask. It seems like the same thing this “meditation” class is trying to do. “I’m sorry, Keturah—”
“Please, Kay,” she interrupts.
“Kay. I don’t believe in hypnotism and what not. And I think they’re trying to get us ready for going into labor here. It’s probably a good idea that I at least try to do this.” I close my eyes again and try to concentrate on my breathing.
“Just walk with me after class,” Keturah whispers. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
If I don’t go through with this, I’m gonna go right back to being the recluse I was in high school. Everyday I’ll do something to avoid speaking with her, and I’ll walk a different way to this rusted-out building to learn how to breathe—no. That version of myself died outside these walls. I’m better than that now. So I smile and nod my head. I hear her laugh and then return to the rigid breathing patterns.
I’ve got to fit in here to get by Gunnar.
* * *
“All right ladies,” the instructor says. “Class is over. See you here tomorrow at 11a.m. sharp.” Keturah pushes herself up from the ground and helps me stand as well.
“You’re pretty agile for someone—”
“Six months pregnant?” she says. “Yeah, I’ve been here for quite some time. I had nothing else to do, but come to these stupid classes.” She holds out an arm, and we both wobble towards the exit. “So when did you get here?” she asks.
If I Lose Page 3