SCARRED (Scars)

by Gress, C. R.

  “Yeah, this is just weird. I have never been in the front seat of a police car; at least, not in this fashion.” I answer. I can only imagine that I look like a human bottle of Pepto-Bismol when I realize I am blushing on top of my shocked hue of pale white.

  “Ah yeah, I thought I recognized you. You are the one that broke Gavin’s heart. I’ve heard stories about you.”

  Okay, now I am mortified.

  “Oh God, NO! That was such a long time ago, we were both young and neither of us knew what love really was.”

  “You may not have but that man loved you. He still loves you. Of all the crazy antics that go on down at the department, you are the one thing that the guys can hold over his head to get back at him.”

  “Please! I don’t mean to sound rude or uncaring but I really would like to not talk about this. That was long ago. I am married now and considerably have other things on my mind.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so crass. I was hoping to try to lighten your mood a little by letting you know how bad you hurt him. I won’t mention him again. And I will also not let him know about any of this. He would move heaven and earth if he knew you were going through this, regardless of your marital status.”

  “Thank you.” Is all I manage to get out. I spend the rest of the short ride staring out the window in silence.

  A Ω A Ω A Ω

  When we reach the hospital the officer escorts me into the emergency room where we are met immediately by a nurse. The office explains who I am and instead of being taken to the room where Renee is, we are escorted to a private waiting room. The nurse opens the door for me and I step in as the officer lets me know he will be right outside the door.

  What the fuck is going on?

  Alone in this room, I have nothing better to do than to let my mind constantly roam. I look up at the clock and realize I have been in here for thirty minutes and have not heard anything from anyone. I pace, I sit and curl into the fetal position, I pace again. This not knowing is driving me crazy. After an hour the police officer opens the door and my mom, my sisters, and my husband are allowed into the room.

  “Anything?” Greg asks.

  “Nothing. They will not tell me anything. I have been in this room with nothing but my thoughts for the past hour. What is going on? What is taking so long?”

  “I don’t know sweetheart.” Greg tries to comfort me pulling me into his chest and holding me tight there.

  After about ten more minutes, Greg’s mom and step-dad walk into the room. I have been in this room for so long with my thoughts that I am beginning to feel claustrophobic.

  “Is there anyway that I can get someone to please find me something to drink; a Mountain Dew, a bottle of water, anything.” I ask.

  My sister gets up and nods her head before leaving the room. When she returns with a Dr. Pepper from the drink machine, an older man follows her through the door. He is dressed in blue hospital scrubs with booties over his shoes. It is only then that I notice how full the small room is. If I didn’t know better, I would swear we were at a family reunion.

  The doctor makes eye contact with me and I move to stand but he motions towards the chair. “Please stay seated.”

  “Can you please tell me what is going on with my daughter?” I beg the man who has taken a seat in front of me.

  “Would it be possible for us to have some privacy and get everyone out of this room for a moment.” He states looking around the room to its occupants.

  I nod my head and motion for everyone to leave except for myself, Greg and the doctor.

  “Is she going to be okay? When can I go see her?” I ask on a whisper.

  The doctor drops his head and looks at the floor for a second before he returns his gaze to mine. “There really is no easy way to say this so I am just going to let you know that we worked on your daughter for over an hour trying to revive her.”

  I sway in the chair a bit feeling like I am going to hit the floor. Greg wraps his arm around me to hold me up. Tears are streaking down his face. I lean into him and my breath makes a hiccoughing sound.

  “I’m sorry, maybe I am not understanding you correctly, is she going to be alright?” I ask quietly.

  “I’m sorry for your loss ma’am but we were unable to revive your daughter. We called it almost fifteen minutes ago.” The doctor answers.

  I sit in the chair and stare into space. I am not really sure what is going on because everything seems a bit hazy in the room and while I can see that the doctor is talking to my husband, I can’t understand anything that is being said. Everything sounds like I am underwater, it’s all muffled.

  “Jordan…Jordan.” I am startled back into the room by Greg shaking me. My eyes focus and I notice that my mother is now sitting in a chair beside the doctor across from me.

  “Okay, so when can I go see her?” I ask nonchalantly.

  “The nurses will come and get you in a few minutes. We advise you to take some time alone with her for closure. Please understand though that there are some things that are beyond our control.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask as if I were asking for directions.

  “While we are officially calling the baby’s death a natural occurrence of SIDS, we will not be able to remove the breathing tube that was placed in the attempt to resuscitate her. That cannot be removed until the state medical examiner does it during the autopsy.”

  “SIDS? What is that?” I ask.

  “SIDS is Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. There is no known cause and there is no where to place blame in these instances. It is as if the baby’s brain forgets to tell the lungs to breathe.” He explains.

  “Okay, thank you.” I respond and lean my head back against the wall before closing my eyes. “Let the nurses know that I am ready when they are.”

  “Yes Ma’am.” The doctor says as he stands and pulls my husband and mom to the side to talk to them privately.

  A few minutes later there is a slight knock on the door and I am being escorted down the hall to another private room. When I walk in there is an empty gurney and a wooden rocking chair.

  “We will be right back with your daughter.” One nurse states before she closes the door behind her. She quickly returns with Renee cradled in a blanket in her arms. “I am so sorry ma’am” she states as she places the bundle in my arms before she turns and leaves the room again.

  I sit in the rocking chair with Renee cradled in my arms. This is not real. This is not my child. This is a porcelain doll. She is so still, so cold. I look at the plastic tubing that is taped to her mouth. Her eyes are closed, her skin pale, her lips blue. This still isn’t right. This is not the same baby I dropped off at my grandmothers house this morning. I just sit there, stare at her face and rock.

  I am unsure how long I am in the room alone before there is a knock on the door. Apparently is has been a while because the nurse peeks her head through a small gap in the door and asks, “Is everything okay in here? Do you need anything? Do you need me to get anybody for you?”

  I lift my head and stare into nothing as I answer, “No everything is fine. You can come take her now. I am ready to go.” I bend over and kiss Renee on the forehead. “I love you.” I whisper before I stand and hand the baby back to the nurse. “Thank you for everything.” I say to the nurse as I walk out the door into the hallway and make my way out the ambulance doors to fresh air.

  A Ω A Ω A Ω

  I can hear people calling my name but they sound so far off I wonder if it isn’t just my imagination. I have been here so long it is dark outside when I scurry across the ambulatory parking lot and hit the grass, face first.

  I wake two hours later on a gurney and look to my side to find Greg sitting in a chair with his head slumped over. I try to sit up but I can’t. It is like my muscles are not working. I begin to freak out because I have no control over my body and an alarm goes off.

  Greg’s head jerks up and our eyes meet. His are dark with huge bags under them bu
t from the expression on his face, I feel my face looks much worse.

  “What happened?” Why am I here? Why can’t I move?” I ask terrified.

  Just as Greg opens his mouth to speak a nurse enters the room with a doctor behind her. I could swear I have seen that man somewhere, I just cannot place it.

  “Ah, Mrs. Davidson, I see you have decided to join us tonight.” The doctor speaks to me while the nurse moves around my bed with a chart writing things on a piece of paper and fiddling with the instruments in the room.

  “Jordan. Please call me Jordan. What happened?”

  “After you left the hospital room earlier, you walked outside and fainted. We brought you in and admitted you for dehydration and when you came to, we gave you intravenous fluids and a mild sedative. We have been monitoring your vitals and everything looks good for you to go home. It appears that your fainting spell is a result of an anxiety attack. We will discharge you as soon as the nurse removes your IV and send you home with an anti-anxiety prescription. You need to report back to the ER if you experience any more fainting or dizzy spells. All of this information will be given to you when you are discharged.” He explains.

  “Oh. So I can leave now?” I ask.

  “Yes.” The doctor states and turns to Greg. “You will need to keep an eye on her for the next few days. With everything you and your families will have to endure, you will need to support each other.” He tells him before signing a piece of paper on the clipboard, turning and leaving the room.

  A Ω A Ω A Ω

  Rather than go straight home, Greg takes me to mom’s because that is where the kids are. When we pull up I realize that there are also quite a few other family members here as well. When I walk in the door, reality hits me and suddenly I remember what has happened. I move through the house and straight to my mom’s room where I curl into fetal position on the bed.

  My mom comes into the room with the phone to her ear. “Jordan, I know this is not a good time but you need to be able to answer this phone call.” She explains as she hands me the phone.

  Without moving any other muscle in my body I lift my hand to grab the phone and lay it against my ear. “Hello?”

  “Yes ma’am, I know this is an extremely inconvenient time, however, time is of the essence here.” Comes a voice through the phone.

  “I am really not in a good place to talk right now, what can I do for you?” I snap into the phone.

  “Yes ma’am. I will make this as quick as possible. I am from the organ donor bank and, well, since your daughter was so young there was not information on file regarding organ donation. We specifically have to speak to the parent to obtain permission if you would like to donate certain organs to patients who could potentially benefit. All donor information is completely anonymous so any recipients will not know anything as to the origin unless you agree..” the lady on the other end explains.

  “I just got home from the hospital, could you not give me any time to grieve or get my bearings straight.” I snap again.

  “I understand ma’am, however, to properly obtain viable organs, it has to be done in the first twenty-four hours. I do hate these circumstances, but this is our only opportunity.” She pleads solemnly.

  “That is fine, do what you need to do. You have my permission.” I respond frankly.

  “Thank you ma’am. Please bear with me. Since this is such a sensitive issue, I will need to record some questions and your answers for privacy. Is that okay? She explains.

  “Yes.” I answer.

  I spend the next fifteen minutes laying in a ball on the bed answering questions on the phone in a daze before I am finally allowed to hang up. Mom comes into the room shortly after to check on me.

  “Do you need anything?” she asks quietly.

  “Can you just deal with everyone and everything for a while so I can sleep? Please?” I beg.

  “That is fine. Greg and the kids will stay in the spare bedroom tonight and I’ll stay in one of the girl’s rooms.” Mom answers as she lays a comforter over my body. “You just get some rest.”

  “Goodnight mom.”

  “Goodnight Jordan.”

  A Ω A Ω A Ω

  No matter how hard I try I absolutely cannot sleep. I toss and turn all night. Every time I close my eyes I see her. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. It doesn’t feel real. None of this feels real. I try to sit up in the bed but feel like a boulder has been laid across my body. I have got to get up and walk around. The longer I lay here the deeper my thoughts go.

  Why me? What have I ever done to deserve this? Is this what I’m destined for; a life of death, sorrow and pain. I am not even twenty-five years old and I have experienced more pain and loss than most people ever experience in a lifetime. What am I supposed to do now? I cannot go back to how I was after Aiden. I have two kids I still have to be here for. God, Please, Somebody kill me. Put me out of my misery.

  A Ω A Ω A Ω

  For once in my life I am thankful for my mother and my sisters. There is absolutely no way I could have gotten through this past week. They helped us take care of the kids and make all of the funeral arrangements. I couldn’t do it. I have closed everyone out, and built that wall back around me. Greg has no clue how to deal with this. Every day, it seems like we are drifting farther and farther apart. I am not sure if it is me sinking back into that void or if he is pulling away from me. Either way, this has crushed us. I feel lost. I feel dead again.

  CHAPTER 8

  Three Months Later

  “I am so fucking sick of this!” I scream as I gather my composure, walk across the kitchen floor, plant my foot and swing, landing a right hook against Greg’s jaw.

  “I have been at work for the last twelve hours and just want to go to bed. I have been nowhere else and the last thing I want is to come home to be thrown around the house being accused of God only knows what. I am done! Get out!” I scream again as I reach for the telephone.

  “I am not going anywhere.: Greg states walking towards me.

  “Yes you are!” I wince as I pick up the phone and dial 9-1-1.

  “Hello, yes, I need help, my husband has assaulted me. Please hurry.”

  Greg tries to take the phone away from me but I slip out of his reach. Giving the 9-1-1 operator my name and address I watch Greg in utter contempt.

  “Yes, I’ll stay on the line.” I know that if I hang up the phone I am in for it. As long as I have the police on the phone there is no way on earth Greg would hit me again. I take the phone with me as I step out on the front porch to wait for the police to arrive.

  While waiting for the police to arrive, I think about where I will go from here. Though I know this is the end of my marriage, I am also aware that this will be the end of the abuse; the abuse I have suffered for three years now; three years of absolute Hell.

  A Ω A Ω A Ω

  When I met Greg, he was my downstairs neighbor. In the beginning we only spoke in passing; in the parking lot, at the pool in the apartment complex where we lived; it was always friendly. I was getting over a recent breakup with yet another asshole whose life was even more fucked up than mine. Greg was a single dad who had a little boy about the same age as my daughter who was the only silver lining in the demented playbook that was life.

  Over time we became friends as our children would play together in the pool or at the local playground. He seemed like a decent guy so when he asked me out to dinner one afternoon I thought “Why not?” Over the course of a year our friendship bloomed into a romance leading us into marriage. That was when the true horror started.

  The night of our wedding, Greg had had way to much to drink which all came out on the way home. When Greg started to argue with me about senseless stuff all I could think was “What the Hell?” It was apparent that Greg could not handle his alcohol, which I had seen at a few parties we had been to throughout the course of their relationship, but this was different. Greg was different and things only got worse once we got ho
me. As soon as we got settled in the house, I received a backhand across my cheek.

  “What the fuck was that for?” I asked cradling my cheek in my hand.

  “I saw you flirting with that punk at the gas station.”

  “I was not flirting with anyone. I was pumping gas because you couldn’t even stand up, much less pump gas without getting it all over you.”

  “Are you saying I am a liar?”

  “No, I am saying you have had too much to drink and need to go to bed.”

  “Whatever, you can sleep on the couch.” Greg yelled as he slammed the door to the bedroom.

  It wasn’t long before I could hear him snoring, glad he had passed out so I didn’t have to deal with him the rest of the night.

  Some dream wedding, huh?

  When I woke the next morning, Greg greeted me with fresh cut roses and pancakes. He sat on the edge of the couch and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. The same cheek he had backhanded the night before and was now swollen and purple.

  “I am so sorry baby. I don’t know what got into me. I promise you I will make it up to you and it will never happen again.” He whispered as he nuzzled my cheek again. “Let me get you some ice for that.”

  It was almost a month later before he hit me again. A year after that, he held a knife to my throat while I stood over my infant son in his bassinette. Although no woman should ever have to deal with abuse, I deal with it. I do not want to be divorced when I am not even a quarter of a century old. Fighting for my own sanity I stick it out, it does get better, or shall I say bearable. But there are times when it gets way, way worse. I managed it and kept it hidden….that is until Renee’.

  A Ω A Ω A Ω

  Greg and I stand alone on opposite sides of the courtroom reviewing the events of the night I got home from work later than normal. I am dressed in a white button down shirt and black slacks while Greg is wearing an orange jumpsuit. He has been in jail for the last forty-eight hours on assault charges and we are currently discussing a restraining order.