Shattered Stars

by Shari Ryan

  Layne comes into view, and he looks upset. I would be upset too if I saw him lying on this bed, but he isn’t upset in the way that he wants to make it better. There’s a certain flair of anger swimming through his eyes. “I want to get out of here,” I tell him.

  Maybe he’s angry that I’m tied to a table. I would be angry. I am angry.

  He lifts his hand to scratch at his chin. He’s thinking before responding. That’s what his chin scratch means. What is there to think about? “Dani, what happened?”

  Why is he asking me what happened like he wasn’t there? He was the one who told Aly to call 9-1-1. “What? You were there. What happened to your arm, Layne?” His arm has a white gauze bandage wrapped around his forearm a few times.

  “I had to get stitches. I’ll be okay.”

  “What happened?” I ask again, feeling my heart throb in my chest. Who hurt him? Was he in an accident?

  “You attacked me,” he says, glancing down between us. He can’t look at me.

  “No, I didn’t. Why would you say that?”

  “I tried to carry you down the stairs, but you tried to fight me off of you.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You carried me to the couch.”

  “No,” he says. “We both ended up falling down the stairs. Aly called 9-1-1.”

  “Aly, is she okay?” Where is she? Why isn’t she here? Oh my God. Where is my daughter?

  “She’s fine, Dani. She’s talking with social services right now.”

  “What, why?”

  “Protocol when there is domestic violence.”

  “I understand, but I didn’t hurt anyone. I would never hurt anyone, especially you, Layne. How could you think that?”

  Layne squats down beside my bed and slides his fingers through mine. “Look at your hand,” he tells me.

  He’s holding it up as far is it will move from the bed because of the restraints.

  My fingernails.

  There’s blood dried beneath my fingernails.

  “I’m going to be sick,” I mutter. “Layne. You have to know I didn’t—”

  “Dani, we’re going to get you help. I’m just as upset as you are right now. I know you weren’t controlling your behavior, but that’s scary, right?”

  “Yes,” I blurt out loud. “Yes, this is scary. Help me. Please. I’m so sorry, Layne. God, I would never try to hurt you or Aly. You’re my life. I love you. Please believe me.”

  “I believe you, but we need you to get better right now.”

  “I want to get better,” I cry.

  “Okay, then I need you to answer the doctor’s questions so they can help. Do you promise me you’ll do that?”

  “Yes, whatever it takes to make this better. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Layne. I swear to you, I don’t remember hurting you. I don’t know what happened.”

  “I know,” he says, taking his other hand, which is wrapped in an ace bandage and runs his free fingers through my hair. “I think I padded most of your fall. Do you feel any pain?”

  “Just my heart,” I tell him. I’m not sure I could recognize any other pain right now.

  “That can be fixed, baby. I want to make sure you get better.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him again.

  “I know.”

  “There’s a bad bruise on your cheek,” I tell him.

  “I think I got your elbow in the cheekbone. That was from when we fell.”

  The doctors and other medical staff have asked me what seems like a million questions between yesterday and today. I had to stay overnight here, alone. They wouldn’t let Layne stay with me. This is a punishment. They said if I complied with everything, we could evaluate the next steps today. I’m so ashamed of myself, yet I have no recollection of what happened.

  A knock on the door to my room breaks my focus from the window, and I glance over to see who is here. I told Layne to go to work today since he has been taking off so much time. Plus, it’s best if I take this time to collect my thoughts today and get through these doctor visits.

  Dr. Mallard, the doctor who is running the clinical trial, walks into the room. I wasn’t expecting to see him, but I’m in the same medical park, so maybe everything is connected. Plus, I’m sure Layne contacted him after all this happened.

  “Hello, Danielle,” he says, reaching his hand out for me to shake. At least I can shake a hand now that I don’t have straps holding me down to a bed like I’m a convict.

  “Hi, Dr. Mallard.”

  “Your husband called me last night, and I’ve been quite worried about you.”

  “I had a feeling he might have contacted you.”

  “He’s very concerned.”

  “I know.”

  “So, I have the neurological evaluations that have been pieced together since yesterday, and it’s very profound.”

  “I’m not sure what could be profound about the way my brain works,” I tell him.

  “Well, for one, I have good news.”

  Good news? I don’t think I deserve any of that right now, but I’ll take it versus the other option.

  Dr. Mallard places his hand on my wrist. “Danielle, I believe we can cross Dementia off your list.”

  “Wait, what did you just say?” I cry out, clapping my hand against my mouth. I wasn’t expecting to hear that of all things.

  “You don’t have Dementia, Danielle. I believe you are suffering from what we call Delirium, which is often caused by a traumatic event. Delirium can be the cause of hallucinations, misunderstandings, lack of focus, confusion, and migraines. In some paperwork we have, it shows that you had an encounter with Bale Herman just over ten months ago. He’s the man who assaulted you at sixteen years old, correct?”

  “Yes,” I agree.

  Dr. Mallard nods his head before breaking eye contact, then glances down at his hands. He’s fiddling with his wedding band, appearing lost in thought for a moment. “Danielle, in my professional opinion, the encounter you had with Bale Herman last year, re-triggered your post traumatic stress disorder.” Dr. Mallard takes a seat on the chair beside my bed. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, then rests his chin over his clasped fists. “You see, when our minds grow a little older after having endured so much trauma, it’s like dealing with scar tissue. It may look as if we’ve healed and had a new thick layer of skin protecting us, but in reality, there is still a weakness below the surface that we need to protect. I think you’ve been suffering from a psychological disorder in response to the fear you have been suffering from this year, which has been the cause for most of your symptoms. Furthermore, the combination of medications you have been taking can negatively interact with one another, which often causes memory loss.”

  “It seems too simple,” I tell him, trying to regain my composure. “They said there was some remaining damage on my brain when I had the MRI and CT scan last year.”

  “You may have scar tissue, but that isn’t the cause of these issues. I understand this is new information, which may take time to digest. However, I’m confident that the sooner we get you on the right track with the proper treatment and medications, you will see improvements. You will get better over time.”

  I’m trying my best to put all these pieces together in my head. It appears his words are floating around my head, out of order, and I need to comprehend it all. “Does Layne know?”

  “Not yet. I felt it was necessary to speak with you first. I’m happy to call him and fill him in if it’s easier for you.”

  “Does it excuse what I did to him?” I interlock my fingers, squeezing my knuckles together and squint my eyes closed, praying he says it does.

  “Dani, I think we both know that physical harm is a tough thing to forget about, but there will be a level of understanding on your side in this case, and I think Layne is an understanding man. Am I right?”

  “He is. My daughter watched this all happen too.”

  “Does she know what happened to you, Dani?”

  TWO YEARS
AGO - I was 28 Years Old

  I stood in Aly’s doorway for a moment, watching her write out a poem she was working on for school. I was not ready to do what I was about to do, but I promised myself when Aly turned twelve years old, I would confess our story to her. I need her to protect herself.

  Layne placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “Ready?” he whispered.

  “I don’t think I can do this to you,” I whispered back to Layne.

  “She needs to know the truth, Dan.”

  Aly heard us whispering and turned around in her desk chair. “What are you guys doing?” she asked.

  “Admiring you,” I told her, forcing a smile.

  “Uh, you’re weird,” she said, laughing.

  “Sweetie, can we talk to you for a minute?” I asked her.

  “Am I in trouble?” she asked.

  “No, no. We just want to talk to you.”

  “Am I getting a brother or a sister?” She was joking, but it was far from a joke to us who wanted nothing more than to give Aly a sibling. Getting pregnant with another child wasn’t in the cards for us, but that wasn’t the point.

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “I know. You guys already told me that I was the special one God chose for you, blah blah blah.”

  “Aly, we’re trying to talk to you about something important,” Layne said, interrupting her round of “blahs.”

  We took a seat on her royal blue bedding that she picked out at Target a couple of weeks earlier. Aly’s favorite color changed by the month between the ages of eight and ten, but we had gotten to a period where royal blue was her color of choice for more than a few months. “So, a long time ago, before you were born, there was a horrible man.”

  The words I started with immediately captured Aly’s attention, and her skin lost some of its pink color. “Who was he?” she asked.

  “That’s not important,” I responded. “You know how we had the sex talk, right?” I knew she hated those discussions, but I have felt it’s been very important to have an open and honest relationship with her since she was old enough to understand.

  Aly looked at Layne, then back at me. I usually had the birds and bees conversations with her alone, sparing both she and Layne of that father/daughter embarrassment. “Yeah,” she said.

  “Okay, well, when I was sixteen, there was a man who wanted me to have sex with him. I was so young, and I didn’t know him, nor did I want him to touch me. Meaning, I didn’t agree to have sex with him, Aly. It’s a horrible situation, but women and men go through this sometimes. It’s scary, and we have to be cautious in life. This type of behavior is referred to as rape.”

  Aly looked off to the side, digesting the information, swallowing hard, as thoughts likely burned through her head. It was easy to see that a million questions were formulating in a matter of seconds.

  “Someone raped you?” she asked.

  Hearing it out loud forced a pain into my stomach, and Layne cleared his throat. I assumed he was feeling similar things I was. “Yes, Aly.” I bit down on my lip for a pause, giving myself a second to breathe. “About a month later, I found out I was pregnant … with you.” I wasn’t sure if she would put the pieces together quickly or if I would need to explain more, but after a few seconds Aly’s eyes filled with a look of pain, then tears.

  She looked between Layne and me, her eyebrows furrowing as she shook her head. “You said it takes a husband and a wife to have a baby,” she repeated words that I spoke to her a couple of years ago while trying to explain the natural cycle of life. I didn’t get into other details at that time in fear of overwhelming her at such a young age, but the school let us know that some children had been asking questions and it was a good time to introduce the topic.

  “You’re older now, and I think it’s time you know the truth, Aly. Not all husbands and wives can have babies. Sometimes families adopt, other times, families give up a child if they can’t care for him or her. And in rare situations, a mom has a child from a man she doesn’t know. That man could be a very bad person.”

  Aly slowly shifted her focus to Layne as fear continued to move through her eyes. “Dad?”

  “I came into your lives when you were just over a year old, Aly. We had an immediate bond, you and me, and after spending some time with you, I made a decision that I couldn’t leave your side or let anyone else fill a role in your life that I knew I was meant to fill.”

  “You’re not my real dad?”

  “I adopted you when you were three. I am your real dad, Aly, and I will always be your dad. It doesn’t matter how you ended up on this earth. It matters who you spend your time with, who loves you, and who will give you the world.”

  Aly placed her hands on her chest, and her lips quivered. She was trying to wrap her head around the truth, but all we could do was give her time to understand. “No, no, you’re wrong. You’re my parents. You’ve always been my parents.”

  “Aly, the man who got me pregnant, is not your father, not under any circumstance. He is in prison, and he will stay there. Your dad is right here, and everything he just said is a hundred percent true.”

  “Look at me, baby-girl,” Layne tells her. It takes Aly a moment, but she finally looked up at Layne. “Do you feel any differently about me now that you know what our family has gone through to get to where we are today?”

  “Maybe you couldn’t have another baby because you were only meant to be my dad,” she said.

  Her words winded me. Her words made up the most thought-provoking statement I could ever imagine hearing from a ten-year-old girl.

  We had the choice of in vitro fertilization, but we decided that it was our fate to raise Aly together, and to be her parents, so we stopped trying and appreciated the cards we had already been dealt. “That is also what I think, Aly,” I tell her. “Are you okay? I know this must be a lot to take in right now. I have dreaded having this conversation with you throughout your entire life, but it’s only fair that you know the truth. My biggest fear though is that I don’t want you to look at Dad as anything less than who you know him to be.”

  Aly’s chin trembled, and her knee bounced, but she pulled in a deep breath and stood from her chair, then walked over to Layne, sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Dad.”

  Layne swallowed so hard; I could hear the movement in his throat. “You will always be my only baby-girl. I love you more than I could ever explain to you, and I thank God every day that I didn’t miss anything more than a year of your life. I have never wanted to spend a second away from you. I hope you know that.”

  Aly picked her head up and looked at me before wrapping her arm around my neck too. “I’m sorry someone hurt you, Mom.”

  “Me too, sweetie, but everything in life happens for a reason. I’m not sorry I have you. I’m grateful for you, every part of you.”

  CURRENT DAY - 29 YEARS OLD

  “Yes, Dr. Mallard, Aly knows what happened to me when I was just a little older than she is now.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Danielle. That will make this a little easier for her to understand. I’m sure you and your husband can explain everything to her when you get home later.”

  “I can leave the hospital?” I ask him, feeling hopeful.

  “After we discuss a treatment plan, I’m going to make sure they discharge you.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Mallard. Thank you for giving me my life back.”

  Twenty-Five

  Twelve Years Ago

  I WAS 18 YEARS OLD

  The last month of my life has been crazy—hard to believe, really. Just two years after I thought my life was over, I have gotten to experience some of the best moments of my life. It’s hard to wrap my head around it all, but life doesn’t pause for very long.

  Layne has been picking up more and more shows and has been in the studio a lot which is good since he needs a distraction after losing Sandra. However, we haven’t seen a lot of each other lately either.
That part sucks.

  He and Lizzy had to decide what to do with Sandra’s house, and both agreed it was best to sell it since there was nothing but excruciating pain to be felt each time they went inside. Layne was living there with Sandra, though, so it’s made things a bit more challenging for him than Lizzie. Mom and I offered him space at our house, but he has insisted on getting his life on track his way so he can find a new normal, which I understand.

  Tonight is the first time I’m getting to see him in two weeks, and I’m gushing with excitement to tell him some news I’ve been keeping from him all week. He has news for me too, I guess. So, it’ll be an eventful night.

  “Are you going to bring Layne home with you after? I’d love to see him,” Mom says.

  “Yeah, those doofuses have been MIA for weeks,” Lexi adds.

  Mom has Mahjong tonight, so Lexi offered to watch Aly for me. Normally, I’d bring Aly along, but Layne wants to talk tonight, so I figure it’s best if I go alone.

  “They’re performing. They aren’t MIA,” I argue with Lexi.

  “Yeah, but they’re performing in North Carolina and South Carolina, and we can’t just leave our lives to follow them. It’s not fair.”

  “I know, but this is huge for them. We just need to be happy and supportive.”

  “I don’t know,” Lexi sighs. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for this lifestyle with Johnny. He’s super sweet and charming, but I don’t want to be wondering where he is all the time.” She makes sense. I can’t say the same thoughts haven’t gone through my mind since Layne and I met, but over the past few months, we’ve been through so much together that I can’t begin to think about my life without him. I just hope we’re on the same page.

  What if he wants to break up? Maybe that’s why he needs to talk to me. What rockstar would want to be held down by a teen mom? My heart begins to sink into the cavernous depths of my stomach as my thoughts snowball.

  “Earth to Dani,” Lexi says, waving her hand in front of my face. “Are you okay?”