“Okay.” He looks at me like he thinks maybe I’m lying. But I don’t believe he knows me well enough to read me.
“Look, I’m not very good at this, uh,” he looks away and then back to me, “apology thing.”
I hold his gaze, one second, two, three…waiting for more.
“Oh, was that it? Your apology?” I reach out and put a hand on my bag.
“No. Shit.” Again with the beard rubbing. “Look, I feel like a jerk for coming to your house, in the state I was, doing what I did, and then just leaving.”
“Wow, you are bad at this.” I bring my hand back to rest in my lap.
A slight tug of his lips.
“Dean, I am perfectly capable of handling myself like an adult, have I done something to prove otherwise?” I ask. I mean, seriously, I have not called him, texted him, emailed him, or ingratiated myself to his family in a creepy way. I have been a model post-hook-up partner (aside from the whole pregnancy issue, obviously).
“What? No.”
“Okay, then please show the respect of giving it to me straight. Why did you want to meet with me?”
A deep sigh of resignation leaves his body.
“A friend of mine, he runs an outdoor excursion program in Northern California and I joined him and on a veterans camping trip. My head…”
He pauses, closing his mouth and look away again, but, god, I wanted to hear the rest of that sentence, so I wait, holding my breath.
“My head gets pretty screwed up, you know? I’m not usually home this long or even away from my Team for this long.”
“So you went to, what, clear your head?”
“I guess you could say that,” he replies, nodding subtly.
“I get that, you know, that you would need time like that,” I assure him honestly. “I’ve told you from the start of this that I don’t expect anything from you, but I guess what I should have said is that I at least expect honesty. In or out, I just need you to be honest.”
“Okay, then. I honestly don’t have a clue how to, uh, navigate this,” he admits, gesturing between the two of us. “The last time I was in a relationship was in high school-“
“I never asked you for a relationship.”
“Well, whether you want it to be or not, this is a relationship. A relationship doesn’t necessarily have to mean romantic.”
“Mmhmm, right, thank you for that clarification,” I snap. Because, ladies and gentlemen, there is nothing that pisses me off more than someone who assumes I’m stupid (and, looking back, I may have overreacted due to the hormones and such).
“Well, Dean, let me just say, I have been on my own for a very long time and you do not get to corner the market on the ‘lone-wolf’ lifestyle. I have been taking care of this baby for twenty-nine weeks now, and myself a lot longer than that. And that’s all while fielding phone calls and text messages and drop-in visits to both my home and place of work from nearly all the members of your family, all while pretending to ignore the looks and the gossip surrounding me because I have the audacity to be single and pregnant in a small town, by the elusive Dean Slade, no less; all while participating in rather awkward conversations with my principal about parents who have complained about my ‘situation’ and you know what? I’ll take it. I’ll take it all and I’ll figure it out, I’ll find a way through it all to happy for this kid. And if you want to come along for the journey, then wonderful; if not, well, I’ll find a way to make that okay, too. Just please, make a fucking decision.”
I snatch up my bag and start to push my way out of the bench, stopping for one more reminder.
“Oh, and don’t ever talk down to me like I’m stupid.”
With that said, I inhale deep and haul myself out of the seat (not an easy process because I had to kind of slide and heft my way to the edge before I could push myself out sideways), powering through the wave of dizziness that comes over when I stand up.
I am three steps to the door when the first pain hits, stopping me in my tracks, my hand going to my belly.
When the discomfort starts to fade, I make to move, but a second wave comes, causing me to hunch over in pain and howl. This time, the pain doesn’t fade, it just keeps pushing on me until my vision is blurred and I start to fall to my knees, groaning.
Before my knees hit the tile, though, Dean is there.
“Holly, what’s wrong? Talk to me, Mama.”
“I don’t know, ow,” the pain presses, nearly causing me to vomit on his shoes, “ughhhhh.”
“Should I call 911?” A voice asks above me.
“No, I got her, just call the hospital and tell them we’re coming,” Dean responds, his voice sounding muffled through the pain. Then I am up and being carried out the front door.
“Where’s your car, Holly?”
“White Lexus SUV,” I manage to say, pointing a limp arm at the parking lot. Luckily, I’d been holding my keys, had an imprint on my palm to show for it, and he uses those to find the car. He sets me so gently into the passenger seat before leaning over to buckle me in and get in my face.
“Look at me, Mama,” he orders and I look. “Everything’s gonna be okay, alright? You just stay right here with me, okay?”
I think I nod. Then he reaches out with his fingers to wipe the tears from my face, muttering something else, and shuts the door.
I don’t stay right there with him, not exactly. Before we’re even out of the parking lot, I black out.
Chapter 20
Dean
How many times am I going to have to go through this? How many times am I going to have to talk another human being out of dying while racing for help? I’d just been sitting in the deli booth, enjoying the live-action version of Holly’s angry email, now I’m here. This isn’t supposed to happen here, this is what happens in my other life, not this one. The panic I felt as I sped up to those ER doors, the racing heart, the screaming brain, was worse than anything I’d ever felt. Is this what it’s going to feel like being a parent? Because, fuck this, this feeling is horrible.
Later, they’d tell me I strode into that ER with Holly in my arms barking orders at everyone, doctors, nurses, other patients, it didn’t matter. But the memory is fuzzy, like it had all happened to someone else or in a movie I watched. I acted on impulse, on auto-pilot; and how fucked up was it that my brain was this conditioned to deal with chaos.
When I finally came back to myself, Holly was gone. The doctors had taken her back, I didn’t know where exactly, I just knew they wouldn’t let me go with her and that made me want to punch something, but I didn’t. Instead, I sat in a hard fucking chair while my brain replayed over and over the scene where Holly was crying out in pain, clutching onto her stomach, reaching out for help with nothing but a vinyl seat responding. She was terrified, I saw it when I looked at her, and fucking shit, that killed me.
I was up and pacing again, at the nurse’s station.
“Any word on Holly O’Brian yet? Can’t I just go back?” I was pleading now, I’d asked a million times, it seemed, but I kept getting the same answer.
“The doctors are with her, Sir, they’ll be out as soon as they can.”
“That’s my fucking kid she’s carrying, you know.” I snap, dropping a fist heavily onto the desk. The older woman lifts a brow, not intimidated by me in the slightest.
“Sir, have a seat. Please don’t make me call security.”
I curse again, but do it walking away. This is ridiculous. I resume pacing.
“Is there someone you could call?” The woman at the desk asks as I make my rounds past her.
“What?”
“Family, friend, someone? So you’re not here alone?”
Shit. Maybe I should I call my parents.
“Uh…I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
I felt helpless, clueless, and it sucked.
“Her emergency contact listed is someone by the name of Maya Martinez, you could start there.”
Fuck, I didn’t even know who that
was.
“I’d rather wait until I had something to report,” I tell her, pacing away from her desk.
Chapter 21
Holly
I thought it was a dream.
Meeting Dean at the diner.
The pain, the ride to the hospital.
But, no.
The IV needle stuck in my hand, the beeping machine, yes, that is all very real.
I think my baby is okay, though, I can feel it. I have no idea what time it is, how long I’d been asleep, or what my or my butternut squash’s prognosis was, but I could remember the way Dean’s voice, deep and rough, affirmed everything was going to be okay and I so wanted to believe him.
A knock at the door comes, followed by Dr. Graysen’s voice, “Holly?”
“Yup, I’m awake,” I scratch out, trying to sit up.
I don’t like the way her face looks as she scooted the one chair in the room closer to my side of the bed
“How are you feeling?”
“Better, actually.” My headache is faint, the nausea is gone, and best of all, there is no pain anywhere near my abdomen. “What happened to me?”
“Well, to start with, you were pretty dehydrated,” she informs me, total chiding doctor face on. “But, you’re also dealing with a fairly serious case of preeclampsia.”
Oh, crap. I’d read about that.
“What does that mean?” I ask anyway, because my brain is suddenly not functioning.
“First of all, don’t freak out.”
Too late.
“Preeclampsia can come on suddenly in the second half of the trimester. There were no signs of high protein in your urine and your blood pressure was good at your last visit. Have you been feeling okay?”
I give her a breakdown of my symptoms over the last few days.
“I believe most of the pain you were feeling today was caused by the dehydration, which then probably exacerbated your preeclampsia symptoms, but we’re going to keep you here at least overnight to monitor you and your little one,” she says, patting my stomach.
“Am I going to have to deliver the baby early?” I ask, all the worst case scenarios suddenly coming back to me and running through my head.
“Hopefully not. Your body already seems to be doing better with all the fluids we’ve been putting in you, but, Holly, I want to prepare you, best case scenario here is bed rest for the rest of your pregnancy.”
“Bed rest, as in…rest a lot in my bed?” I ask, hopeful.
“Bed rest, as in, rest all of the time in your bed.”
“I can’t stay in bed for two and a half months!” Oh, God, I have a job, I have responsibilities, I have stuff that requires me getting out of bed!
“Remember, don’t freak out.” Her soothing doctor voice is really quite good. “Also remember, number one priority here is bringing baby into the world healthy.”
Well, obviously.
“Dr. Graysen, I…” How do I tell her that I have no one to help me out, no husband to lend a hand, no family to grocery shop or cook for me, that it’s just me.
“It’s just me,” I confess and hate the way my eyes sting as I do. “How do I do bed rest alone?”
I am so grateful for the way she takes my confession in stride; no sympathetic eyes, no pitying pat on the hand.
“We’re going to get it all figured out before you leave this hospital, Holly. I will not send you home alone without any help.”
I still feel like a child being assured by a parent. I feel small and stupid.
“Okay.”
I sit back against the bed and close my eyes while Dr. Graysen does her checks and scribbles her notes onto her clipboard, trying not to feel sorry for myself, trying to focus on how relieved I am that my little squash is still safe in my belly.
“Miss O’Brian? Doctor?” A nurse asks, her head appearing in the doorway. “We have a very impatient and concerned dad out here, is it okay to send him in now?”
Dr. Graysen snaps her head in my direction, eyebrows lifted. “I…Holly?”
“Oh.” Right, Dean. “Wait, he’s still here?”
The nurse’s smile falters before she responds, “Yes.”
“Okay, then, sure.” I tell her.
“Okay, then,” the nurse repeats before closing the door.
“Would that be…”
“It’s a long story,” I tell her.
And then he’s here, his big body in the doorway, his gaze locked on me with eyes wilder than I’d ever seen them, the rest of him composed and locked down.
“Dean?” Dr. Graysen’s body turns toward him, but her head ping-pongs back and forth between our faces. “So the rumors are true.”
His expression turns confused for a moment before breaking into recognition.
“Greer Graysen,” he says, moving in for a hug, his eyes remaining on me.
“Seriously?” I mumble to myself, pulling my blankets up like a fortress around me, wanting to disappear into the mattress. I couldn’t even enjoy a moment of self-pity.
“Maybe you guys could take your reunion out into the hall,” I snap. “I’m a little tired.”
“Sorry, Holly,” Dr. Graysen, Greer Graysen replies, doctor-chiding herself, and I feel terrible, surprised at myself.
“It’s just, I really am tired,” I say, hoping to balance the snarky me. Without waiting for a response and not in the mood to watch their interaction, I slide down and twist onto my side, facing away from them. My emotions are swirling and I’ve learned that’s never a good place to be around other people, it just makes things more uncomfortable, so I’m going to retreat until I’m feeling more even-keeled.
“I’ll have someone come in and get your dinner order and we’ll talk tomorrow about what the plan is,” Dr. Graysen says, all business again. “Dean, you got a minute?”
I lift a hand in goodbye and tune out the words he rumbles her way. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing (a technique I learned as a teenager from my therapist to stave off panic attacks) and before long, I’m asleep.
I can tell it’s late without even being fully cognizant. The room is in twilight and the glow from one of the bedside machines lights the left side of Dean’s profile. He hasn’t noticed I’m awake yet, so I take a second and look at him. He’s in the chair Dr. Graysen occupied earlier, but pulled right up to the edge of my bed, resting his arms on the edge and holding my right hand between both of his. I never would’ve taken Dean for a hand holder.
“I’m gonna take care of you, Holly.”
I guess he does know I’m awake.
“I don’t need you to take care of me.” My voice is weak from hours of napping.
“You told Greer you had no one. You cried to her about being alone and not having anyone to help you.”
“I did not cry,” I insist, and what the heck, Dr. Graysen?
I try to pull my hand away, but he holds tight.
“Just don’t, okay?” He says, eyes firm on our hands.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t dive into one of your speeches again about how you don’t need me around.”
“Well-“
“You told me to make a fucking decision, well, I made it.” His stern eyes are aimed at mine now, and I instinctively shut my mouth. “When you leave this hospital, I’m going with you and I’m going to help you and you’re going to let me, if, for no other reason, than the fact that that’s my baby you’re carrying and you’ve done a hell of a job keeping it safe so far, but you need help and I’m going to be the one to help you.”
Emotions, swirling, danger, danger.
I hate him thinking he’s won something, even an inch of control over me, but I was stuck. If Dr. Graysen puts me on full bed rest, I have to accept help from somebody and he appears to be it.
“I have to drive down to San Diego tomorrow to check in, my mom or sister will come by the hospital while I’m gone. I’ll be back when they release you.”
I wasn’t upset that he had a job to do, but
I’ll admit, the timing of this information after his previous speech is poor.
“Now what do you want for dinner?” He finally lets go of my hand to reach out for a menu and proceeds to read off several highly unappetizing choices.
“Gosh, Dean, why don’t you decide?” I challenge him.
“Chicken, it is.”
Chapter 22
Dean
Perhaps big decisions shouldn’t be made following an emergency, but that’s what I’d done regardless. It’s late evening and I am finally on my way home from Camp Pendleton where I’d spent the entire day in one meeting after another. Starting with a somewhat uncomfortable meeting with my Team Commander and ending with a less uncomfortable, but somehow, more tense, meeting with my Team.
Bottom line, I was taking a new assignment.
First, I’d been granted an additional thirty days of emergency leave to take care of Holly, then I’d report in to my new position. For the first time in a lot of years, I would not be boarding the plane with my Team, headed to a foreign country. My Commander had a spot for me at the Marines training camp here in San Diego, which would require some time away from Holly, but the Armed Forces didn’t typically bend for anyone, so I was taking the spot.
Several ideas had been rolling around in the back of my mind since last summer. I’d been weighing the pros of cons of all my options for months, which was only serving to ramp up my anxiety about the state of disorder my life was in. This was not a decision I could take back, so I really wanted to be sure of myself. The thing that had finally gotten to me was Holly’s “make a fucking decision” speech-hard not to feel motivated when a little thing like her throws the ‘f’ word at you. And now that I’d made a decision, I feel good. The proverbial weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
The guys on the Team, though, they were less understanding. Aside from my Commander, I was the oldest guy on the Team by a few years, at least; Holly or no Holly, baby or no baby, it was time for me to pass the torch to the young guys. Bennett was twenty-six and clueless, so when he told me I was “being a pussy quitting like this”, I took it in stride.
“Aw, I know you’re gonna miss me, man,” I tell him.
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