by CeeCee James
“Right now, it’s a balance of medication. She is on blood thinners to prevent an embolism. But we don’t want her to hemorrhage again and risk a hysterectomy.
Miranda’s eyebrows rose. “A hysterectomy? What’s that got to do with a brain injury?”
The doctor frowned as he looked at her. He glanced back at his tablet, scrolling. After reading the chart, he took a moment before raising his eyes. “Miranda.” He touched her shoulder, his lips pressed together grimly. “She was nearly five months pregnant. The car accident…I’m sorry to tell you that her son has passed.”
Miranda gasped as though punched in the stomach. She grabbed on to the doorframe. Doctor Errod patted her shoulder again. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.”
She nodded, her eyes tightly closed.
“Are you going to be okay?”
Opening her eyes, she saw his expression of concern. She rubbed her face with her palm, before nodding again.
The doctor began to walk away. “Wait.” She clutched his arm. “Before you go, who’s the father?”
“That I don’t know. It will have to wait until she wakes up.” With that, he continued his rounds, leaving Miranda still clutching the doorframe.
So many thoughts rushed through her head, like cattle all trying to escape out of one tiny gate.
How did this happen?
Who was the father?
HOW did this happen?
Each question was a boomerang coming back to hit her. You did this to her. This is your fault. You abandoned her.
I thought she was safe! She cried back. I couldn’t take the responsibility any more. I had to escape.
Her heart thundered wildly in her chest like it was trying to escape.
You’re so selfish. You ruined her life. You never protected her.
She only wants you, she wanted you…Her dad ’s voice superseded her own. You failed me.
I can’t do this. I can’t take this. The air was gone from the room. She started to hyperventilate.
“Miss, are you all right?” An orderly stopped next to her, his hand on a cart full of clean linens. She looked at him blankly and shook her head. Slowly, she sank down the doorframe, gulping for air.
“Nurse!” the orderly called.
Within a few seconds a nurse appeared, and then another. Miranda recognized the nurse that had helped her earlier. “Cup your hands over your face.”
“I…can’t…breathe..” Miranda gasped as her chest squeezed tight.
“You’re going to be okay. Breathe into your hands.” The nurse demonstrated. “Slow, easy breaths. There you go, shhhhh.”
Miranda held her hands over her face and inhaled the warm air.
“There you go, relax. I’m right here. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”
Miranda tried to do what she said. Her face and hands tingled.
After a few minutes she felt like she was catching her breath. She slowly lifted her head. “Thank you so much.” Miranda’s cheeks grew warm. “I don’t normally do things like this.”
“It’s perfectly fine under the circumstances.” The nurse rubbed her arm and stood up. “Have you ever talked with anyone about anxiety attacks?”
Miranda looked at her, confused.
“Well, I’m not a doctor, but I don’t think anything is wrong with you,” the nurse quickly reassured her. “Our bodies handle stress in strange ways. It might be a good idea to meet with your doctor and explain some of your symptoms to him. See what they say.”
Miranda closed her eyes in shame. “I’m not normally a panicky person.”
The nurse nodded. “Most people who have these types of attacks aren’t. It’s not a sign of weakness. In fact, it’s often the strongest people who have them. Sometimes, something just has to give.”
Miranda shook her head.
The orderly ran up with a cup of juice. He held it out to the nurse. “Good job, Mike, thanks.” The nurse handed the cup to Miranda. “Drink a little of this and rest here a bit. When you’re ready, stand up nice and slow. If you need help, don’t be afraid to call for one of us, okay?”
Miranda sipped the apple juice out of the tiny paper cup. For some reason it brought a memory of sitting in a Sunday School classroom. It had been one of the few times she’d gone, and her mother was still alive, big, round, and pregnant. She’d hugged Miranda when she dropped her off, and encouraged her to go play, even though Miranda started to cry. One of the teachers had brought her a cup of juice similar to this one. She’d drunk it while sitting in a chair, drumming her feet against the rungs as the other kids played with the toys. A little later she’d caught her mom peeking at her through the window in the door. Her mom had given her two thumbs up and then blown her a kiss.
Miranda hadn’t been ready to be a surrogate mom herself a few months later.
And Cassie had suffered.
She finished the juice and crumpled the cup into a ball, before walking into room 232. The oxygen sensor chirped as Cassie’s oxygen saturation dipped for a moment, magnifying the silence of the room.
“Hey, baby girl.” Miranda called to her sister as she grabbed the book from inside the patient locker. “Let’s finish our story, okay? Where were we?” She opened the book to the page with the corner folded down. Her voice changed into a reading tone. “Anne! Where are you going, Anne?”
11
Present Day
Miranda stood at the kitchen sink drinking a glass of water, unable to get the image of Cassie out of her mind, her fragile body lying so still on that sterile bed. When was Cassie going to wake up? She had no idea what to do next.
The porch door slammed and Jason entered the kitchen. She felt the wall he had up; cold, defensive. He hadn’t talked to her again since the other night. Miranda cringed inside. She didn’t have the strength to deal with him right now.
Jason walked next to her. She could almost feel heat radiating from him, buffering her to get out of his way. She turned to avoid him, not wanting to look into his eyes and see his anger.
He rested his forearm on the wall next to Miranda’s dark head, pinning her in.
She froze, uncertain.
“Hey,” he whispered, the air tickling her neck.
She glanced up at him, cautious.
His green eyes seemed to pierce her with their intensity. They held a look she’d never seen before, and her heart pounded.
“I want to be mad at you. I want to yell and scream. But I can’t.” He paused for a second, exhaled slowly, the air soft against her cheek. “Because I’ve missed you so much.”
The lure of safety from his presence made Miranda want to turn and bury her face in his chest like she’d done as a teen. In the past it had been always friendly hugs, never anything more. Back then, he’d been adamant that they could only be friends. Her stomach fluttered, before she squashed it. Stop! What are you thinking? You’ve ruined his trust far too much to change things now. She gulped. “I’ve missed you too.”
Jason leaned back off of his arm. His lips pressed together in a sad smile. Then he turned towards the fridge and wrenched open the door. Finding a soda, he popped open the top and took a long chug.
Miranda breathed in deeply to calm her pounding heart. What the hell was that about?
He left for the living room and sat on the couch. Miranda started to head up to her bedroom, then hesitated. Now it was her move to at least try to fix the friendship. She bit her lip and spun toward the living room.
Her nerves jangled as she moved over to the couch. Archer sat on his blanket on one end of the couch, leaving only the middle cushion free next to Jason. A snort escaped her as she imagined sitting cheek to cheek with him. Instead, she slid down until her back rested against the front of the couch.
Jason looked up at her. “What are you sitting on the floor for?” He glanced at the dog sprawled out on the couch. “Archer, get down.”
The black German Shepherd thumped his tail, his eyebrow marks wrinkled as if to sa
y, You’re moving me, Master?
Jason snapped his fingers and Archer jumped off. Jason pulled the blanket from the couch and flopped it on the floor.
“Go to bed, Archer,” Jason pointed. The dog hopped back on the couch, this time lying down on Jason’s side. Annoyed, Jason grabbed him to pull him off, but Archer flattened and went limp. “Oh for crying out loud. You are the most stubborn dog ever to exist.” Archer thumped his tail in agreement.
“Down! Now, Archer!” Archer shivered at the last word, and with a quick movement, hopped off. He went over to his blanket and turned a few times, clearly unhappy with its new placement.
Jason sighed and grabbed the remote.
The newly vacated spot had obviously been Archer’s for a long time. Dog hair coated the back and bottom cushion. Miranda looked at her light skirt.
Jason raised an eyebrow. “What now?”
Everything between them felt fragile. Miranda gave a bright, fake smile. “Nothing. Thank you for moving Archer.” She tugged the cushion out to flip it over, and a shower of coins and pens flew out with it.
Jason pressed his lips together and turned the television volume up higher.
This isn’t going well. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she shoved it back in and sat down. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, then cleared her throat.
Laughter erupted from the TV, grabbing her attention.
“You watch Family Matters?” she asked, surprised.
Jason relaxed deeper into the couch, and kicked his feet back on the coffee table. “You don’t remember? Yeah, well it reminds me of my Grandpa.”
Miranda didn’t answer. Jason whistled briefly through his teeth and linked his hands behind his head, pulling his ratty white t-shirt tight across his muscular chest. “So, how was Cassie?”
Miranda studied her chipped nail polish. She’d been picking at it all afternoon. “She was good, I guess. The doctor says she’s making some improvements.”
Jason rubbed his jawline to scratch at the day-old stubble. “Yeah, she’s always good when I go, too.” He looked back at her. “Except she’s not so good. Not in the awake, living, and happy kind of way.”
Wincing, Miranda blinked a few times. I get it. I wasn’t here when she got hurt. When she needed me. Just give me a “L” for loser sister. Her gaze blurred and she rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand.
He licked the corner of his lip. “Yeah, sorry, that was too far.” He flipped the remote a few times in his hand before tossing it back on the coffee table. “You want a beer?”
“That sounds good.”
Jason stood up to get it. He twisted off the caps and chucked them into the sink. Walking towards her, he indicated the porch with a tilt of his head. She followed him out.
The sky grayed as the sun dipped below the horizon. He sat on one end of the swing, and waited for her to join him.
This is it. Can’t run now. I’m brave. I’m brave. I’m brave. Miranda perched next to him, and wiped her clammy hands on the front of her skirt. The clean, soapy scent of his aftershave seemed to caress her face. Warmth filled her heart from memories of the many nights she sat out here with him. She swallowed and tried to pull herself together.
They rocked quietly for a few minutes as the sun set. A pair of geese flew over the lake, honking at one another.
After a moment of watching, Jason said, “You know we were so lucky to have been found by Uncle Stew.”
Miranda thought back to her teen years in high school, a life that would have been so different if she’d ended up with Uncle Vince. She shivered at the thought of him, rubbing the backs of her arms. He’d never found them, though she doubted he’d searched very hard.
“The luckiest.”
He took a slug from his bottle. “So, why are you really back, Miranda?’
“What do you mean? I’m here for Cassie.”
“What are you running from this time?” His voice was deep and solemn.
“I’m not running from anything,” she said, tracing the wooden grain pattern on the swing arm.
“No?” He turned and studied her. His gaze picked across her face, taking in her eyes, the way her hands moved.
She shifted on the seat. “I deserve that. I’m sorry. But I’m not on the run from anything.” She sighed and picked at one of her nails. The cuticle was ragged. “I’m tired of running.”
“I don’t know what you expect from me.” Jason stopped the swing’s movement. “I’m trying really hard to accept your apology, and not be mad. You were my best friend, the only one left that I trusted in this entire world. You showed me how much I meant to you when you abandoned me.” His voice cracked at the end of the sentence. He took a long swig from the bottle as if to hide it.
Miranda felt her insides start to shake. She wasn’t going to be able to stop it this time. I miss him so much, and I hurt him so bad. How can I ever expect him to forgive me? The muscles in her legs clenched as she tried to stand, to run back inside where it was safe to hide her tears. Jason shot a sharp glance at her. Gripping the swing’s arm, she held herself in place. Shame burned her cheeks.
“You were going to get up and leave just now, weren’t you?” His voice was low. “Leave me again.”
“Jason, this is killing me.”
He leapt from the swing and stormed angrily to the porch railing. His face flashed with frustration and pain and he squeezed his eyes tight trying to control the surge of emotion. His knuckles turned white on the bottle that shook in his hands. The muscles bunched under his shirt, and he hefted the bottle as though to throw it. Gritting his teeth, he slammed it back on the railing.
A ragged sob tore from Miranda’s throat. “I can’t fix this. I knew I couldn’t. This is why I didn’t want to come back. I know I hurt you. You have every right to feel the way you feel.” Tears ran down her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands.
Jason looked back at her. “Even now you’re hiding.”
She pulled her hands away and clenched them in her lap. “Is this what you want to see?” she cried at him. “See me with my mascara running, nose running, crying and out of control?”
“Yes,” he said softly. He returned to sit next to her, and another wave of his aftershave rolled over her as his hand stroked her back, tempting her toward security. “Yes, I want to see you be you, be real, and be okay with messing up and being weak sometimes.”
“I have never been weak, Jason.” The words came through gritted teeth as she struggled to force back the tears. “I was weak once, and the worst thing happened. I can’t do it again.”
“You can,” he murmured. His finger softly moved a strand of her hair out of her face. “You are.”
“I wanted to come back, but I couldn’t face you guys. There’s a line you cross, when you mess up so much you can’t come back.”
“Yeah, you leaving about killed me. You were my only family. You did mess it all up. But Cassie and I both would forgive you. Again, and again.” His thumb ran under her eyes to catch her tears. “I hope one day you’ll tell me why you ran.”
“Jason, I’m so sorry. I have so much guilt. I was supposed to take care of Cassie!” Her stomach churned inside of her, a heavy ball of guilt.
“Yeah, and you did that for a long while. But, she didn’t want you to take care of her. She just wanted you.” He paused, and his hand stilled. “Same with me.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand.
He grabbed it and ran his thumb over her palm. “I already told you that I forgive you. I guess I just needed to tell you how I felt. I can hear it in your voice, how bad it was for you. Maybe as bad as it was for us. You didn’t trust me to be there for you. Makes me afraid you might feel that way again some day.”
“I won’t do it again, Jason, I swear.”
He exhaled deeply and rested his head back against the swing. Slowly, they swayed back and forth.
“You remember,” his voice hitched a little with embarrassment, “all
those years ago, you said you were my swan.”
“I remember. Swans are partners for life.”
“I know, it was stupid kid stuff.”
“No,” Miranda shook her head. “It wasn’t kid stuff. It was real.”
He reached over to where her skirt had raised, and traced the knotted, red scar on her knee with his finger. “Is this why you didn’t trust me?” His eyes darkened with the memory. “I wish I could rub it away.”
“Why?” Miranda asked. “I love it. My cool war wound.”
“Yeah, but it’s proof of a time I failed.”
“You’ve always said that. You didn’t fail.” Her leg grew warm under his touch.
He stared into her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat. His gaze fell to her mouth and his tongue wet his bottom lip. He moved forward a fraction, hesitated, then pulled his hand away.
The breath she’d been holding escaped in a deep exhale. She looked at him curiously before resting her head against his shoulder, her thoughts spinning. She’d seen his eyes, seen the desire there. Her stomach quivered in response. You’ve always pulled away, Jason. I need you so much, but you deserve someone who’s not as broken as I am. A lump grew in her throat.
His arm eased around her in a hug. “I’m glad you’re home.”
12
Present Day
Miranda ran down the stairs, already feeling disheveled for her first day at her new job. The night before she’d been ecstatic when she received a phone call that she’d been accepted as a receptionist at the local dental office. Luckily, her remaining skirt was still presentable.
The coffee had finished perking and was doing its last few burps into the pot. She stopped in her tracks as the dark-roasted smell rolled over her.
“Jason.” She stared hard at the coffee pot.
He sat at the end of the counter fiddling with his phone. At her words he looked up from his eggs. “What?”
“Do you think,” she started. “I mean, would it be okay if I got a cup of coffee?”