Pink Slips

by Beth Aldrich

  “Hey, Karen, did you see that? The baby just did the wave to her grandma.”

  My mom blushes and softly rubs the moving mound on my belly as if to high-five her granddaughter.

  Dr. Deller shoots me another wink. “Well, folks, if you’ll give me a few minutes alone with Betsy, I’d like to give a quick exam and check on our rolling, high-fiving baby, here.”

  “No problem, doc. Betsy, it looks like you are going to be okay,” my mother says. “Your father and I will stop over at the ICU and peek in on Steven on our way back to the house. Your father will come by in the morning to bring you home.”

  The stress is ironed out of Dr. Deller’s face after he examines my baby. The deep, furrowed brow is less creased, and his smile is softer. I adore this man, in a patient kind of way. He has been here for me for years, and has always made the right decisions related to my health and that of my babies. How could I have ever doubted his sincerity or loyalty to me? He would never hurt me. I truly believe he was unaware of Dr. Hildebrandt’s plan or obsession.

  “Betsy, you two will be just fine. You believe that, don’t you?”

  “For sure, doctor.” I meet his hand with a high-five.

  “I can’t even begin to tell you how my awareness of your attack came about.”

  It seems like he’s going to try anyway.

  “I was blown away by the power of it all. I was relaxing and reading a book in my living room when I heard a sound. I put my book down and looked around the house. I couldn’t find the source of the sound, so I decided to go back to my book. I was seriously engaged in the next chapter when out of the blue, I heard the sound again. I stopped and listened, intently… like a bolt of lightning, I realized the sound was coming from my subconscious. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had been focusing on you, deep down. I was so worried when I left the hospital that I must have planted a deep-rooted seed in the recesses of my mind that I would keep my senses open for you. I know it sounds crazy,” he says, but I shake my head and he continues.

  “Anyway, I heard someone screaming and then crying, from deep inside my consciousness. When I realized, it was you, I panicked and called the hospital. They told me you were here.” The glimmer in his eye told me what his words didn’t. He must have been proud and honored to show up and help me in this special way.

  Not surprised by his fantastic story, I share a warm smile with my doctor. I will only ever be able to tell a short list of people who are close to me about this connection that I share with him; a gift that has brought my family together. We have been given a light into a world that is not known to many on Earth, and with that gift, we will do good things.

  “I am so glad that you came to the hospital to check on us and even more happy that my baby is going to be okay,” I say.

  “Thank you so much, Betsy,” Dr. Deller replies, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Thank you for trusting in me and for letting me help you. It’s been hard since my wife died, but I feel a stronger sense of purpose once again. You have given that to me. Now let’s get this baby to term and bring your family a little girl.”

  The shimmery light of day peeks through my window at the crack of dawn. The sounds of happily chirping birds chattering outside my window as they enjoy their breakfast gives me a chance to wake up slowly before the hospital floor starts buzzing with morning traffic. I stretch and move the monitor that’s connected to my arm so that I can slide my hospital gown up and look at my watch. I can’t locate it, and then remember that after I called Misty last night I left it on the rolling bedside table, next to the hospital phone.

  My door is ajar and the light from the hallway exposes the dry erase board on the wall by the entrance to my room. On it I read, Betsy Ryan, age thirty-eight, pregnant. Administer fluids upon waking, obtain urine sample, and take vitals. Now that I know what’s in store, I might as well wait to get up and pee.

  A nurse comes in. “Good morning, Mrs. Ryan. How are you feeling this morning?” she asks as she turns off the signal on my monitor. I smile instead of responding. “I’m here to get a urine sample from you. Your doctor has instructed that we do a few labs and, if your vitals are okay, you are free to go this morning. Sound good?”

  “That’s perfect, because I really have to pee!” Maneuvering off the bed and into my plastic slippers, I add, “I’ll be right back.”

  From outside the bathroom, the nurse calls in to me. “Once you’re done here, I’d be happy to take you up to the ICU to see your husband. He is now conscious and is asking to see you. We haven’t told him about your condition, but I suggest you avoid talking about that for now.”

  She waits while I’m in the bathroom. A few minutes later, I emerge. “Here you go. One cup of pee for your morning enjoyment,” I sarcastically offer.

  “We’ve got a funny one here, huh? Now hop up on the bed, Ellen DeGeneres, and let’s check your vitals.” She shoots me a sly smile.

  It’s great to have a nurse with a great sense of humor this early in the morning, especially since she thinks I’m funny. I wonder if she’ll be here when I have the baby? I could use some cheer after going through labor again. I can’t believe how much time I’ve spent in this hospital; I’ve joked before that I should just get my own private room, but this isn’t what I meant. Just a few more weeks, and I’ll be here giving birth to our daughter.

  Out of curiosity I look up at my nurse and ask, “I’m just wondering, did anyone on this floor know much about the man who tried to kill me? Dr. Hildebrandt?”

  The nurse stops what she is doing and intently watches me as I speak. She replies, somewhat hesitantly, “Yes, we all knew him. On the outside, he seemed like an ordinary doctor, but deep down, I hear he was troubled. He has had an OB-GYN practice through this hospital for years, but no one really talked about his past. We’re learning a lot of details now.”

  “What do you mean, troubled?” I sit up with more interest.

  “Evidently, his pregnant wife was killed late one night by a woman who was driving home from work. It was an accident, and the woman was never charged in the murder. He was never the same, from what people are saying, but at work he seemed to cover it up rather well. Once, he told one of the nurses about his wife, Betty, and showed her a picture. Evidently, she had blonde, curly hair…” In that moment, my nurse sees my expression and stops talking.

  She starts to fidget with her stethoscope, then mutters as she leaves the room, “Would you excuse me?”

  The weight of what I just heard bears down on me like a ton of bricks as I search my heart for answers—I feel burdensome and sorrowful. How could I have known? This man was reaching out to me in a very abnormal, broken kind of way, a way in which I would never have known. How could I know? I was never unkind to him, yet I never acknowledged him as my doctor, either. Was I wrong in the way I disregarded him unknowingly? I shake the self-blame from my thoughts, but the bitter chill inside, remains.

  The nurse returns to my room, her eyes moist and pink in the corners. I meet her gaze and share a compassionate smile; we silently agree to never discuss Dr. Hildebrandt again.

  “All set, Mrs. Ryan. You are good to go once your labs come back normal. Your belongings are in the plastic bag on the chair in the corner. You can probably grab a bite to eat at the hospital cafeteria. It opens at seven.”

  “Thanks so much—for everything.” I smile brightly, sending her warmth and appreciation from my heart. My gratitude begins to melt the guilt-laden frost that had started to form deep inside. By her sharing this information with me, I have gained a better understanding and closure for my stalker’s actions.

  My heart is pounding a little faster with the anticipation of seeing Steven. What will I say to him? Will he remember anything from the past few days? I grab my clothes to get dressed as fast as I can so I can get going, and call Misty from the bedside table phone. I get her voicemail.

  “Hey, Misty, it’s me. I know you’re probably in the shower right now. I’m calling you from the prim
eval, wall-connected phone in my hospital room. I wanted to let you know that I’m leaving the hospital this morning. I’m all right—just looking rather bruised and battered—but am going to see Steven shortly, then I’m coming home to shower. I smell.”

  Hopefully, Misty will check her messages, because I’ve got some interesting news for her.

  By now, the nurses in the ICU probably know me by name. Let’s hope this little relationship that we’ve developed will soon come to an end so I can get my husband home to heal in his own bed. The security guard lifts his chin slightly to acknowledge that he knows who I am, and as I slide by, says, “Glad to hear you’re okay, Mrs. Ryan.” He’s a strong and sturdy man, perfect for his chosen profession. His mustache floats above his top lip like a brown, fluffy caterpillar, matching his set of eyebrows.

  I meet his gaze, smile, and mouth the words, “Thank you.”

  I take slow, quiet steps into the room to meet Steven’s bedside. His eyes are closed, but his breathing tubes are out of his mouth, which is a good sign. I sit back on the ugly upholstered chair and wait for him to awaken. The hallway outside his room is starting to fill with muffled sounds of the new day in the ICU, but he doesn’t seem to hear it. I sit and gaze at my husband, imagining what I will say to him when he wakes up. I’ve run our last real conversations in my head a hundred times and am trying to figure out where we go from there. I know we were arguing about moving to California, but given all the confusion with the accident, his hospitalization, and our communications, I’m not sure that will be an issue now.

  The words Dr. Hildebrandt uttered before his death keep playing over and over in my mind, like a broken record: “He was in the arms of another woman and you never knew.” Who was this other woman, and when was she in my husband’s arms that the stalker could see them? Perhaps Dr. Hildebrandt had simply made it up or jumped to conclusions, based on the arguments he witnessed; but how in God’s name had he even seen us fighting? It’s creepy to think he was nearby, listening and watching us. But I decide that today is not the day to bring up that subject. What I want is a peaceful and pleasant reunion with my husband.

  Sitting for over thirty minutes in this room, waiting for him to wake up is making me go stir-crazy, so I decide to head home and let him rest. I can come back later after I’ve cleaned up and regrouped.

  Dad is parked in the loading zone outside the hospital, waiting for me. I’m thankful that he’s on time so I can get home and shower; I spent more time in Steven’s room than I thought I would, but I’m glad he didn’t wake up and see me this way. It’s for the best that he fell back asleep before I got there.

  I hop in the front passenger seat of Dad’s car and click in the seat belt across my pregnant belly. As we drive off, I glance back at the hospital, thankful that the stalker threat is out of my life. Now I need to confront the threat that is my crumbling marriage… or maybe not.

  “How ya doin’, kid?” Dad looks freshly shaven, his partially dried hair combed back, exposing his distinguished high cheekbones and perfectly placed wrinkles around his dark eyes.

  “I’m doing okay, just a little freaked out about last night. Are the boys doing okay? I’m sure they’re so confused about what’s going on.”

  “Not really. Misty diverted their attention beautifully when she ran out to find you. Luckily, she gave them dessert right before she stepped out, so they were happily eating. In fact, they had just finished up when we arrived later.”

  “I really thought that I was a goner for a minute there. I can’t get the image of his bloody dark hair out of my head, or the stench of the blood.” I shake my head. “I found out some of the reasons why Gary Hildebrandt was stalking me for so long.”

  “Really?” My dad throws me a quick glance, then focuses back on the road.

  Nodding slowly, I look out the window and watch the trees zip by the window as we drive. “Yeah, I guess I looked like his pregnant wife, Betty, who was killed in a car accident years ago.” Looking down at my hands, I reflect on the comparison he must have made between his wife and myself. “He must have fixated on me, and over the years, it grew and grew every time I came in to see Dr. Deller. He was extremely jealous of my connection with my doctor and the mere fact that I was his patient.”

  “That’s a shame. Sad really, when you think about it. Betty and Betsy sure sound alike. The scarier part is that he was able to get all of your personal information from the files in his own office.” Dad’s tone goes from compassion to angst and then anger. “There needs to be an overhaul on their security policies. I may just make some calls on Monday to see if I can shake the bush. I know they followed HIPPA laws, but how do you protect against someone who works in a particular practice from exposing your personal information, law or not?”

  “That’s a good idea, Dad. I’m not sure what we can do, but it’s worth researching. On a happier note, I’m excited to see the boys and give them hugs! I also hope Misty’s injury is okay. I’m glad her daughters were with their father last night. I know she left the hospital after they stitched her up and took her statement. Did you see her after she came back home?”

  “Yes, she popped in quick to say hello, but the boys had already gone to bed. I told her we’d stop by and see her after I picked you up this morning.”

  Being back home and in my own kitchen gives me a silent moment of joy. I love the aromas of the food, working on my gorgeous countertops, and being surrounded by the soothing colors that meld perfectly with the muted living room décor. As I watch the kids play on the other side of the room while Barney sits at my feet, I only half hear Misty asking me a question. “Were you able to talk with Steven?”

  “Actually, no. After I was released from my room, I went down there to see him. He was still sleeping, but thankfully the tube was out of his mouth. The IV was still in, though. I think he’ll have to stay there for a couple more days to let the heart surgery stiches heal, but his blood was flushed of the toxin, so that part is in the clear,” I say. “I can’t even imagine what would happen to him if I were to tell him about the crazy incident with Gary’s murder. He would probably have another heart attack!”

  “Yeah,” she says. “Gary, my dream date.”

  “What!? Was he the doctor you were telling me about? Oh, My God!”

  “Unfortunately, yes. I sure have a way of picking them, don’t I?”

  “There is no way you could have known this, Misty. Plus, you only just met him. I’m sure he targeted you because you were my neighbor and he could get close to me, to us. Don’t give up, your prince will come.” I get up and hug her tight.

  Quickly changing the subject before giving me one last pulse in her return hug, she says, “We don’t want the kids to get wind of last night’s attack. Right after I gave them the chocolate cake, I heard Barney barking at the door—and you were nowhere in sight. I told them I was running outside for a minute because you had run over to your parents’ house—and luckily, the frosting kept them busy.” She shoots me a quick grin, then continues. “I’m glad they didn’t see me running around following Barney as I tried to find you. I called your parents when I realized you weren’t in the yard.” Misty gives me a confident look and nod. She really handles everything with ease.

  We casually glance over to the kids to see them wearing capes and masks, running around the furniture. Even my big boy, Kyle, is taking part in the adventure. My smile stretches from ear to ear. I realize it’s been quite some time since I’ve smiled like this. “Oh, the joys of being young and naïve. I hope there will never be a day when I’ll share this story with them. It’s bad enough that I’ve got to process it.”

  “Three cheers for therapy!” Misty laughs. “It helped me through a hell of a lot of divorce pain. So, do you think you’ll tell Steven about what Gary said?”

  I know she’s referring to his comment about Steven being in the arms of another woman. “I have no choice. It will come out somehow. After he gets home from the hospital, I’ll pick a day to sit
down with him and share what happened. He’s going to flip. But more importantly, I want to watch his reaction.”

  Misty dries the last breakfast pan and places it into the drawer. It’s funny how she knows my kitchen so well. I hang the dash dishtowels over the oven door and join my friend at the kitchen table. I sit to her left so I can keep my view of the kids playing. I realize that I still stink. I hope to cut my time at the table short so I can run upstairs and freshen up.

  “Your face looks a little rough, Betsy. What are you going to say to the kids?”

  I shrug and gingerly rub my cheek. “I hadn’t even thought of that, to be honest. How’s your cut feel? It looks like it hurts.”

  “Nah, I’m okay. They didn’t seem to notice it when you came in, but they were distracted. Maybe you can put some makeup on the bruise and a regular bandage on your chin. The white tape and gauze looks too medical,” Misty says as she points to my chin. “You could tell them you slipped in your parents’ kitchen last night, or something. When I mentioned that you ran over to their house, they seemed to believe it.”

  “I guess that’ll have to do! What’s that old joke? ‘Does your face hurt you, because it’s killing me’?” Getting up from the table, I tell Misty, “I think, if it’s okay with you, I’ll run upstairs and go take a shower and put some makeup on. I’ll hurry up because I’m sure you have plenty to do today.” Barney follows me as I start to leave the room. He hasn’t left my side since I returned from the hospital.

  “Honestly, not really. I’m yours all day, if you need to go to your parents or something, please feel free to call me.” Flashing me a smile, Misty continues, “I know you would do the same for me. Life has a way of balancing out. It’s a give and take, my friend. “