Abruption

by Riley Mackenzie

  I swallowed down the lump. “I’m on it, bud.”

  “Yemon ice?” he hedged.

  “It’s a little early for lemon ice, silly,” Maya chimed in. I watched as Finn’s eyes bounced to Maya and then rooted on mine.

  “Peeeese, Daddy.” Those dimples. Impossible to say no to. I tickled under his chin and he giggled. He knew he had me wrapped. I’d walk through flames to keep him happy.

  Rolling my shoulders, I stepped into the hallway and paused. His giggles were replaced by the sound of rhythmic beeps firing in all directions. Some fast, some slower, but every beat one after the next. It was soothing, so different from my OR where those same beats were expected. They were the norm. Here, it felt like more.

  Over my left shoulder, a woman was quietly speaking to a man. Probably her husband. Parents tackling the unknown, much like me, but facing it together. I watched as he pulled her close, and she rested her chin against his shoulder. I couldn’t see his face, but hers spoke volumes. Her red-rimmed eyes and ghostly white skin highlighted her fear and anguish. There was an uncertainty and frustration evident by the pinch in her brow and the pierce in her lips. It was all too familiar, especially the underlying fury. She was mad. And I understood. Her child was sick. The cards she was dealt sucked. And all of it was unfair. There was the word that had haunted me for years. Kept me rotting in the darkness, like an unseasoned piece of timber exposed and barely smoldering. It was pathetic and weak and nothing but an excuse.

  I inhaled a deep breath and squeezed my lids shut, allowing the sounds of life to engulf me. It was more. The beeps meant they were alive. But here they meant fighter too. Meant these kids were using every ounce of strength to hold on to this life. A life that would in turn be that much more precious. And Finn’s was one of those. I knew that. She just gave me the light, opened my eyes so I could actually see that.

  “Where is he, which room?” asked a frantic and pleading voice. A voice I would know in my sleep.

  She’s here. She’s okay. I thanked the big man above. I had started to really get concerned after the last call, but I refused to let my mind go there. Not tonight. Life couldn’t be that cruel.

  I stepped forward, and our eyes locked from across the unit. Panic was spread across every one of her beautiful features. I hated that she was worried.

  “Oh God, Guy. When I got your messages ... where is he? I need to see him,” she said, rushing over to me.

  I folded her into my arms and kissed the top of her head. A small semblance of something akin to relief washed over me. “He’s stable. You had me worried when I couldn’t reach you, doll. Where were you?”

  Another familiar voice, one I was not expecting, answered for her. “Hey, man. I’m sorry to hear about your son. Jules told me how much he’s been through lately. I got her here as fast as I could, but the Taconic is a death trap at this hour.”

  Too confused to process what Lucca was doing here, I shook his extended hand and said, “Yeah, thanks.”

  Jules pulled out of my hold, and I instantly felt the loss of her warmth. Our change of position was not the only shift; my already precarious mood shifted when I took a closer look at my woman. Her skin was pale, and small, dark circles marred her perfect cheeks. Her hair was disheveled and— “What the hell happened to your lip?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” she answered nervously. “Is he awake—can I see him? What about Maxie?”

  Knowing she wouldn’t be at ease until she laid eyes on my boy, I pointed to Finn’s room. “Maya and Maxie are with him.” That didn’t mean I didn’t still have a fuckload of questions.

  I looked around the unit, surprised to not see her sisters here as well. I glanced back down at the time. Ten after four. AM. The Taconic? So I turned to the only other person with some answers. “No offense, Lucca, you might be her cousin, but do you want to explain why Jules looks like she’s been crying for days and went two rounds in the ring?”

  Lucca lifted both his hands out to the side and squinted, like I just sprouted a second head. “First of all, I’m not sure where you came up with cousin. Second, I get you’ve had a rough night and all, but I’ve got to say, I don’t really appreciate your tone or what you’re implying. When she’s with me she’s safe. Always has been, always will be.”

  Always has been, always will be. What the fuck was he talking about?

  Losing patience, I decided to be crystal clear. “First of all, I’m not implying anything, I’m asking. And second, why is she with you, and why couldn’t she answer her phone?” If he wasn’t her cousin, then who the hell was he?

  I flashed back to that Saturday dinner and how Jules’ face contorted when Lucca strode in. I remembered thinking her reaction was weird but chalked it up to family drama, or better yet a bitter cappuccino, once I found out he was her aunt’s son.

  “She’s with me because it’s my birthday, and she didn’t answer because we had shit reception and left without chargers,” he answered with the same territorial tone he introduced himself with that same Saturday. Hey, I’m Lucca Demaio, Jules’ best friend. The man never said fucking cousin. “The rest, you’ll have to ask Jules. But if you care about her like she says you do, not today. She dropped everything to be here for your son, so not today.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose where the throb was most prominent. I was missing something, but there was no fucking way I believed what this asshole wanted me to believe. Nor did I have the time and energy to deal with his cryptic bullshit. No way, not my Jules.

  “Guy!” Lucca and I both jumped at the shriek of my name. “He’s seizing again,” Maya screamed from Finn’s door.

  Pushing all this bullshit aside because my son was the only thing that mattered, I sprinted toward his door. The sight before me was no easier to handle the second time. This time gurgles and throaty grunts sputtered from his lips.

  “He’s choking! He’s not breathing!” Maya’s terrified screams filled the tight entryway. A different kind of panic clenched my gut. My stomach viciously spasmed, causing the acid to slide up, singeing my esophagus.

  “Turn him on his side,” I ordered, hastily moving Maya out of the way to take over.

  “Guy …” Jules said, pausing. My name on her lips was calm. Sweet almost. She gently held Finn on his side, cautiously tending to him from her knees. Her movements were slow and in control, a stark contrast to Finn’s rigid jerks. “It’s already breaking, contractions are slowing.” I knelt on the other side of the bed and found her eyes. They said I have him.

  She had my boy. She has my boy.

  Two more spasms and Finn’s body relaxed. He released a giant sigh then gasped for air. Fuck me. My chest tightened, making my own breaths difficult.

  Jules let go of the pillow cradling Finn’s head and cuddled up to his face. She peppered him with kisses, whispering, “Shhh, handsome, you’re okay. Shhh. We’re all here, shhh.”

  My precious boy’s eyes were sealed shut, and now he was panting shallow breaths like he ran a marathon. I brushed my hand through his sweaty hair and then placed it in front of his lips, relishing in the soft warm puffs tickling my skin. How much more could one child suffer? If this was what it felt like to lose it, I was there.

  Jules laced her fingers through my other hand and squeezed.

  I’ve got Jules.

  I steadied my respirations to regain control and watched my little guy’s cyanotic lips begin to pink. My fighter.

  While I consoled my confused boy, Jules jumped right in and recapped the latest episode to Meg like the professional she was. “Grand mal, lasted less than a minute, pulse ox dipped to seventies for no more than thirty seconds, and it was back at a hundred percent.”

  Meg was immediately back on the phone with Guillroy, relaying my son’s bullets. I didn’t have to hear the other end of the conversation to know what she was going to say.

  “We’re going to take him down for the EEG in about forty-five minutes. We really didn’t expect him to seize again. And so soon. G
uillroy doesn’t want to hesitate starting something.” I nodded tightlipped, unable to speak past the burn in my throat. “It’s for the best, we want to limit his seizures.”

  Limit, not stop.

  Fuck. And so it begins.

  “What about an MRI?” Maya asked.

  “Since his CT was normal, an EEG is most important right now. It will support the diagnosis of epilepsy in most cases.”

  “Daddy,” Finn whimpered and started to cry.

  I swallowed the flame and reassured my boy. “Right here, buddy. Daddy’s right here.” I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his head, which seemed to calm him down. He was less confused this time, but he was still groggy.

  “JuJu,” he mumbled.

  “Right here, handsome. Told you I’m not going anywhere, so go ahead and close your sleepy eyes, rest. We’ll all be right here when you wake up.” A few stray tears trickled down his cheeks before he succumbed to his heavy lids once again. “He should sleep awhile now. At least until the EEG. It’s good they’re going to take him right away.”

  I knew she was referring to the tech they called in early to perform the study, but there was nothing good about being that much closer to a diagnosis I couldn’t wrap my head around. That I do not want to wrap my head around.

  I touched my lips to his damp forehead and asked, “Maya, can you stay?” She was cuddled close to my girl who was still passed out. How she slept through that commotion was beyond me.

  “Of course,” Maya answered as she always did, making it a little easier to leave Finn’s side. Jules followed me out.

  Lucca’s pace came to a halt when he saw us, more like when he zeroed in on our joined hands. “Everything okay?”

  “Finn’s stable. But we have no answers yet.” Jules explained with sadness in her voice.

  Ignoring me completely, Lucca searched her eyes and asked, “Are you okay?”

  Jules shifted her feet and nodded. If I didn’t know better, I would have said she was nervous.

  Lucca shook his head. “Then I’m gonna take off. Give me a call later, Jules. And let me know if you need anything.”

  His not so subtle innuendos brought me back to our exchange before Finn’s seizure, irking me even more now.

  “Will do, thanks, Luc.” Her voice was curt and shaky. She was nervous.

  Lucca made his way through the sliding glass doors, and I decided to put this mess to rest. I curled my hand tight around Jules’ and asked, “So where were you tonight?”

  Jules flinched at my question, looking everywhere but my eyes. Uneasiness settled in my already torn up gut. What made this question so difficult?

  “Jules?” My tone was demanding, and there was no mistaking that after a night like tonight I needed an answer.

  Instead of an explanation, Jules tugged our hands and said, “Come.”

  “Where?”

  “We need a minute.”

  “Where are we going? I’m not leaving this floor,” Guy clipped.

  “Of course not,” I forced out. There was no way I’d leave Finn either. The images of his frail frame jerking with such intensity and knowing that his little lungs were deprived of oxygen were all too much. Everything about this night and this morning was wrong. I couldn’t shake the vise squeezing my own lungs.

  I’m breathing. Finn’s breathing. Everyone is breathing.

  My silent chant wasn’t working. God, I needed it to work.

  The door adjacent to the elevator bay was adorned with a small gold cross. I passed it a hundred times a day. People went in and out at all hours, looking for a reprieve or a place to mourn. Or maybe somewhere to take a moment to give thanks. Whatever the reason, I’d hoped it was comforting. A place to catch our breaths.

  The chapel was quiet and the lights were dim. The glow of candles illuminated a small altar across the room. Four small church benches filled in the middle, while folding chairs lined the side walls. Otherwise, the room was empty. I slid into the mini pew, while Guy remained standing.

  “Where were you?” he asked again, but this time there was an unfamiliar bite to his tone.

  Before I could find the right way to begin, Guy started pacing. The room wasn’t large enough for more than two of his strides before he had to turn and head in the other direction. After several intense seconds, he finally paused at the kneeler in front of the altar. He bowed his head almost like he was praying. The breath I finally got back seized up while I waited on pins and needles. He slowly turned around, and I was met with tight lips, a knitted brow, and two stormy eyes.

  “Tell me one thing. Did you fuck him?”

  “What? Lucca? God, NO!” A steel vise gripped my chest, the pain was excruciating. How could he think I’d ever do that to him?

  “Let me rephrase that, since we’re obviously having trouble communicating. Have you ever fucked him?”

  I gripped my neck, unable to speak past the razor blade lodged in my throat. I hated the way he was looking at me, hated the anger in his eyes, hated that Finn was sick again, and that I wasn’t here. I hated that it was today. But more than anything, I hated that I couldn’t ease his pain or give him the answer he desperately needed to hear to make this nightmare a little more tolerable.

  I can’t lie to him. I won’t.

  “It’s not what you think.” The words were weak, but they were all I managed to muster.

  “Then the question should be simple, Jules. Very fucking simple. Where were you?”

  Never in a million years did I think showing up with Lucca would have put such a fire in his eyes. Probably because I didn’t think. When I read his message, all rational thought ceased to exist and I had a single focus—getting home as fast as humanly possible. If I barked at Lucca to drive faster one more time I think he would’ve left me on the highway. I hated that I was away, that I wasn’t there when he needed me. That he was so worried. His anger was completely justifiable. Problem was, I couldn’t explain our relationship without shredding every fine stitch holding my heart together. This was what I’d been afraid of: the snag, the snip, the tear—the splinter that would pop our bubble and expose my darkest hour.

  “We should be focused on Finn right now.”

  “You’re right, Jules, I should be focused on my son. Instead, I’m wasting my time waiting for you to tell me what the hell is going on. I can’t fucking do this. Not again. The secrets and lies. Never again. The last woman I trusted put my son in that bed. She fucking left us this life. She did all of this.” He waved his hands. Brittany? My stomach plummeted, as he kept talking with so much seething rage his voice was unrecognizable. “I hate her for what she did. She’s not even here, and her selfish mistakes are still wreaking havoc on my family. Some days I feel like she’s killing me. Literally strangling me. I’m in this suffocating death roll I can’t escape. All because of what she did, her selfishness.”

  He raked his scalp. His anger moments ago had nothing on this palpable pain. I could feel it. I could see it. His forearms trembled from the sheer force of his hands squeezing his head. I scooted to the edge of my seat, needing to get closer, wanting to hold him, but knowing he needed this space.

  They said you must work through the stages of grief to achieve acceptance. What they never said was that, even years later, when you thought you’d finally come to terms with the loss and patched together a semblance of a life, triggers could set you back. Send you spiraling.

  Those triggers could be anything from blatant reminders that you’d conditioned yourself to avoid at all cost, unpredictable subtleties like simple words or phrases, the faint smell of a shampoo, or the first notes of a familiar melody. Subtleties that kicked the wind out of you and decimated the progress you’d made, forcing you to regroup and start over.

  Grief was not a process; it was a vicious cycle. One that was never talked about because they know you have to live it to understand it. I understood. And that’s why as much as I wanted to cocoon Guy in my arms and tell him everything was going to be okay, I
didn’t. Instead, I sat glued to the edge of my pew, helpless, witnessing a distraught Guy spiral. Finn’s seizure was not subtle. His uncertain health would always be Guy’s trigger. That was why his anger was justifiable, even if it was directed at me. I could take it. Didn’t mean it broke my heart any less, especially watching him displace some of it onto his deceased wife. I fought back the burning tears and did the only thing I could for him. I listened.

  “She got lucky with Maxie. Made it thirty-six weeks before she abrupted. You think she would’ve thanked her lucky stars for having a healthy baby. Not my wife. She was too busy planning her picture perfect future back in her hometown, where she could make her mother proud and live the life of a doctor’s wife, regardless of my dreams or what I had to give up to make that life happen for us. Too busy shopping or lunching or whatever the hell else she was doing to have some simple postpartum blood work drawn that was recommended by her Philly OB to investigate why she abrupted in the first place. Seemed relevant, being that she was already pregnant again, don’t you think? Again, not to my wife. Hell, she didn’t even bother to tell me about it. And since she was a nurse, why would I think to question her?”

  The self-loathing dripping over his sarcasm ripped at my soul. Make it stop, please, God, ease his pain. I should have known God wouldn’t hear my prayers. Not today.

  “Probably the same reason her OB, who’s a friend of mine, never mentioned it to me either. She assumed my wife had her shit together. Yeah, not so much. Quinn called a month after we moved up here to check in, see how the high risk OB she recommended was working out, and how Britt was handling the daily shots. She rambled on about how surprising Britt’s results were, given no family history. And if she would have known, Britt could have been easily treated during her pregnancy with Maxie too. You know what I said during that conversation? Nothing. I sat in my office with my goddamn jaw hanging open.”

  I was so confused trying to follow his disjointed thoughts. He was so overwrought and all over the place. A dozen questions stung the tip of my tongue, but I held back. I couldn’t push. Instead, an eerie silence filled the space before he shook his head in disgust and continued.