Eye Contact

by Stacey Grice

  “It’s okay. We both should’ve told each other things a lot sooner, I guess. I’m just glad you’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t. You don’t need to apologize to me. I love you.”

  She sniffled, more tears falling down her face. “I love you too.”

  I wiped her tears away gently with my thumb. “Don’t cry. You’re dehydrated—you need all the water you can get,” I tried to joke.

  She laughed a little. “Is the baby okay?”

  “I…don’t know.” I was in such a state of helplessness.

  Just then, a doctor came into the room.

  “Dr. Fine.” His tone was obnoxiously loud and cocky.

  “Dr. Bowers. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Just how long were you in that bowel resection this morning? You got yourself dehydrated to the point of exhaustion.”

  His tone was condescending and rude, and I could sense right off the bat that she couldn’t stand this guy.

  “Yeah, I suppose so. I’m feeling much better now. When can I get out of here?”

  “Not so fast,” he demanded. “Listen, I need to discuss your…condition with you.” He glanced in my direction. “Would prefer that he step out for a moment?”

  “No. He’s fine.” She grasped my hand with regret in her eyes.

  “Ooookay then. Well, I suspect you already know you’re pregnant. The ultrasound we got dates you at just over sixteen weeks. A little girl.”

  “It’s a girl? Is the baby…is she okay?” she inquired, concerned.

  The other doctor immediately got a strange forlorn expression on his face. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but Andie interrupted him.

  “I know…not that. Did you see a heartbeat, I mean?”

  I was so confused. Not what?

  “Yes. I’ve already called Dr. Francisco to come see you about the—”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’m already under her care.”

  “I see.”

  “What’s next then? IV fluids and the rest of the day off?”

  “I’m afraid not. I’m admitting you for observation.”

  “Oh come on, I’m okay now. There’s no need for that.”

  “Dr. Fine, you had a syncopal episode and weren’t responsive. You know good and well I can’t let you go. I don’t know how you treat your patients with loss of consciousness, but I was trained—”

  “All right, all right. I got it. Do what you need to do.”

  What a dick.

  He left the room in a huff, barking at some nurse about “Q fifteen neuro checks”, and all I wanted to do was hold her and protect her.

  “Vaughn…we need to talk.”

  “I know, but not now. I have so much to say…so much to explain, but not now. Just rest. I’ll be right here.”

  “No, not you—me. I need to tell you something.”

  I looked into her eyes that were darting back and forth as they looked into mine, and I knew. I knew right then that something was wrong.

  “The baby…our baby…something’s wrong.”

  “Knock knock!” a voice screeched as a bubbly teenage-looking boy entered the room. “Hey doc, weird seeing you on this side of things.” He chuckled to himself. “I’m here to transport you to your room.”

  “Vaughn,” she pleaded, looking over at me. “Don’t leave, please?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter 52

  Andie

  “How long have you known?”

  “A few weeks,” I admitted, regretting keeping it from him. He had to be hurt, embarrassed even, to find out news like that in the hospital after the stress of seeing his girlfriend pass out right in front of him. “I’m so sorry, Vaughn. I can’t say it enough.”

  “So you knew before Rowan told you…about my…never mind. It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to apologize any more. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  “For what?”

  “For keeping my past from you. I was…scared.”

  “Nothing in your past is bad enough to have your own baby kept from you. No one deserves that.”

  Taking a few deep breaths, I steeled myself to tell him everything, the whole truth. He needed to know.

  “It’s okay, Andie. Whatever is going on, we’ll handle it. I’m all in, and I’m done with the secrets.”

  All in. He’s all in.

  “Our baby…she’s not okay.” The horror on his face nearly broke me.

  “What do you mean? Not okay, how?”

  “Her head, her brain…it’s not forming correctly. She has something called anencephaly.”

  Shaking his head back and forth in denial, he looked petrified.

  “But they can fix it, right? Can they do surgery or something to help her?”

  “I’m afraid not. It’s not something they can fix or cure,” I explained, feeling helpless in the stupid hospital bed. I sat up straighter, scooting over slightly to make some room. I patted my hand on the spot I wanted him to occupy and he understood, coming over to lie down beside me. His arm snaked underneath my head and he cradled me, despite the fact that he was the one needing comforting. It felt good to be in his embrace again.

  “I missed you so much,” he said gently. “I hate that you had to get this news alone. I would’ve—should have been there for you.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

  “Please explain it to me,” he begged, desperation lacing his words.

  “It’s congenital. There was nothing we did wrong or didn’t do right.”

  “But what does it mean exactly?”

  I felt his genuine curiosity and wanted so badly to show him. The guilt of keeping things from him felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and I was so done carrying it around. I took a deep breath, slowly exhaling every bit of it before telling him.

  “It means she’s going to die.”

  I felt him stiffen beside me, not letting go but not exactly holding me in a warm embrace anymore. The silence of the room swelled between us as I let him digest the finality of the circumstance.

  “When?” His question came out choked, like the imminent tears were stuck in his throat.

  “I don’t know. She could die at any time, inside of me, or she could make it all the way to full term and be born alive, but she won’t live for long—minutes, hours, maybe a day or two.” I tried to answer with steady words and a calm tone, almost morphing into physician mode to deliver the news—a necessary separation to hold it all together.

  The shudders from his silent cries were devastating. He broke down, and I instantly lost my composure, not able to help but cry along with him. We needed this moment, as agonizing as it was to endure.

  “Is she…in pain?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  I asked him to hand me his phone. He lifted up and pulled it from his back pocket, unlocking it with his passcode. I clicked on the icon for his web browser and typed anencephaly into the search bar.

  Right away, web pages and images pulled up, allowing me to show him what it was. His face scrunched up and his eyes squeezed shut at the descriptions and images.

  “So, if she doesn’t have that entire section of her brain, how is her heart beating? How will she breathe when she’s born, if she gets that far?”

  “Her brainstem allows her organs to develop normally, so she’ll have a normal heart, lungs, kidneys—everything, really—but once she’s born, it won’t be enough. She won’t make it very long.”

  He sniffled, pulling me into him even tighter.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked, trepidation and sadness in his tone.

  I turned completely on my side to face him and we stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds.

  “I…I can’t terminate, Vaughn. I can’t kill her.”

  “Oh, thank God.” He exhaled, burying his face into my neck and sobbing. I could do nothing but sob in retur
n, relieved that he wasn’t going to ask me to do what I knew would be impossible for me.

  We held each other for a long time, both of our breaths slowing as we stopped crying together.

  “So, Andie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You had planned to try to carry her as far as you could?”

  “Yes.”

  “No matter what I wanted?”

  Pausing, I feared where his question was going. “Yes.”

  “I love you, so much,” he replied proudly, surprising me.

  I pulled back so I could see his face.

  “You’re the strongest, bravest woman I’ve ever met. I’m proud to know you and so honored to be able to love you.”

  A smile exploded onto my face and I brought my lips to his. I couldn’t help myself. We had so much to discuss and work out between us, and yet this tragic and heartbreaking circumstance was bringing us closer than ever before. I felt awful for ever doubting it—for ever doubting him.

  Our lips reacquainted themselves with each other, exploring and loving. The kiss was healing our hearts and deepening our bond with each second. He was the one to pull away.

  “I’m sorry. We’ve got to slow down,” he insisted. “My body doesn’t realize you’re in the hospital.”

  “It’s okay. I’m okay, Vaughn.”

  Despite my assurance, he kept his distance, giving me sweet, gentle pecks as we continued to talk for a while. It was so peaceful to lie there with him, and for the first time in a long time, I felt completely relaxed.

  “So, if she makes it to term…”

  “Yeah?” he responded, perking up.

  “I want to donate her organs.”

  “Is that possible? We can do that?” he asked with elation in his voice.

  “Yes. It’s the main reason I want to…I mean, I doubt I could’ve ever come to a decision to terminate, but it’s the main reason I want to try to carry her to term. She may not be destined to make it for long in this world, but think of all the people she could help.”

  “Absolutely, Andie. I think it would be amazing.”

  “Really? So, you’re…okay with that?”

  “I can’t think of a better way to handle this situation.”

  “It’s going to be really hard, but it’s what I want. I have to find a way to think there’s a reason for this—a bigger purpose for her.”

  Some joy amidst a painful tragedy.

  The thought rang loudly in my mind, and I hoped with everything in me that I was strong enough.

  Chapter 53

  Vaughn

  “Would you stop fidgeting already? You’re going to wring your hands raw.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m nervous.” She hadn’t been able to hold still the entire ride over, to the point of distraction.

  “What is there to be nervous about? She’s going to love you.”

  “Maybe so, but I’ve never met my boyfriend’s mother before.”

  That revelation was simultaneously odd and yet made me feel a strange sense of possessiveness toward her. I loved that this privilege had been saved for me, loved that she was all mine.

  “Just be sure to take your shoes off right when you walk in, don’t ever address her as Hattie without saying Ms. in front of it, and no matter what you do, don’t touch anything on any shelves or tables.”

  Her eyes went wide with a look of absolute terror and her mouth fell agape.

  Laughing, I fessed up. “I’m just kidding.”

  “That’s not cool.”

  “It was funny though. You need to relax. She’s the most accepting, laid-back person you’ll ever meet.”

  “If you say so.”

  Soon after, we pulled into the neighborhood and Andie reached her hand over to rest it on my forearm.

  “Can you turn left up here?”

  Her question caught me off guard and my face reflected the confusion.

  “This first street.”

  I did as she asked and proceeded slowly down the residential road until she spoke up again.

  “Here. Stop for a second,” she requested. I pulled over to the side of the road, right against the curb. “Right there,” she indicated, pointing ahead. “Right there is where I saw you.”

  “Saw me wha—oh.” We both stared ahead, reflecting on that afternoon so many years ago. “That’s where you saved my life…the first time.”

  “That’s where we first met.” She smiled.

  Staring at the very corner where I had my first glimpse of Andie Fine was surreal. I could still remember moments of that day like I had just lived through it. She grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together and looking into my eyes with adoration in hers.

  “So, that means you must have lived right around here back then, right?”

  “Yes,” she affirmed hesitantly. “That house across the street, the gray one with the white shutters…” She pointed her finger. “That’s where I grew up.”

  “Wow. I never realized it was that close.”

  It physically hurt my heart to think I had been that close to her for a short time and then was yanked away. In the initial period after my accident, Ms. Hattie had bailed completely, wanting me far away from those boys, from that school, from everything. We moved to a different, much smaller house in the St. Nicolas area of town, owned by her grandmother or something, but she never sold her house. Once Matt and I were old enough to better fend for ourselves, when we entered high school, we moved back. I never heard from or saw any of those boys again, so it was never a problem.

  “I had just gone out to check the mail when I saw them hit you. I was so scared for you,” she confessed, her voice breaking a little. “I hid behind those bushes, and it was like watching a horror movie, except it was real life.”

  “I’m sorry you had to see that, but I’m so glad you were there.”

  “Me too.”

  “When did your family move away?”

  “We didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We never left,” she mumbled softly, casting her eyes down. “My mother still lives there.”

  “Seriously?” I gasped. “We should invite her over for brunch too.”

  “No. Absolutely not.” Her tone was curt and firm.

  My eyes were surprised and full of questions.

  “She hasn’t left the house in years,” she blurted out in a rush. “Textbook agoraphobia. Also, we’re not on speaking terms right now,” she explained.

  “Wait, what? Why not? What happened?”

  “Vaughn, I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I haven’t spoken to her in almost two months now and I don’t want that drama to ruin the day for us.”

  “Two months? That’s a long time. I thought you were close,” I stated regretfully. “Does she even know about me? About the baby?”

  “Yes, she does, and that’s the very reason for the dissention. She wasn’t exactly supportive of the situation.”

  I reached both of my hands over to grasp hers and brought them up for a kiss.

  “I’m so sorry, babe. I wish you’d told me.”

  “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but I promise we’ll talk about that on a different day. Let’s go meet Hattie.”

  Before I had even put the car in park in the driveway, Ms. Hattie was walking outside to greet us. I made sure to walk around the car and open the door for Andie, and we met her halfway down the sidewalk for introductions.

  “I’m so pleased to meet the woman who’s making my boy so happy these days,” she proclaimed, bringing Andie into a hug right away. “Y’all come on inside.”

  We followed after her and were greeted by the smell of breakfast filling the entire house. My mouth watered; it had been way too long since I’d had Ms. Hattie’s cooking.

  “Let’s sit and eat while it’s hot. Does that sound okay to you?”

  “Sure. It smells amazing,” Andie complimented.

  We eased into small talk as we made our plates.
A healthy scoop of scrambled eggs with chives, bacon, a few pancakes, and some fruit made their way onto my plate. Just as I was about to dig in, the oven timer sounded and Hattie rose from the table.

  She whooped and announced, “That’s the hash browns.”

  “I was wondering where it was,” I teased. Her hash brown casserole was the cheesiest, yummiest concoction I had ever tasted. It could rival the best breakfast chefs in all the land. I even liked it better than the version by the famous southern country home-cooked style restaurant that had locations sprinkled along every few highway exits in the entire Southeast.

  “You know I can’t serve breakfast without it. Let’s bow our heads for grace, shall we?”

  I grabbed Andie’s hand under the table to reassure her, knowing she wasn’t a religious person.

  “Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for this beautiful day and this precious gift of being able to break bread with my son and his girlfriend. We ask that you watch over Andie and their child, keeping them healthy and free from any harm. We ask that you bless this food to the good of our bodies and pray that everything we do today and every day we are gifted with air in our lungs will bring glory to you, Lord. We love you, God, and we ask these blessings in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  I heard Andie whisper, “Amen,” and opened my eyes to notice her staring awkwardly at all the food, perhaps unsure where to start.

  “Is something wrong, dear?” Hattie asked, concerned.

  “Oh, no, ma’am. I’m just overwhelmed. This all looks so good.”

  I got up to scour the refrigerator for some blueberry syrup and returned to douse my pancakes with an obnoxious amount of the perfect sugary goo.

  “So, how are you feeling, Andie? At this stage of your pregnancy? Vaughn mentioned you had a scare a while back.”

  “Much better now, thank you. I’m still tired all the time, but I don’t feel near as drained as I did.”

  “That’s good. I imagine your schedule can be pretty grueling.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but it’s a lot easier with only working twelve-hour shifts as opposed to twenty-four.”

  Hattie cocked her head in question.

  “A colleague of mine agreed to split shifts and work twelves with me back and forth. She hates working nights and I was finding twenty-fours too difficult, so we worked out a compromise.”