by J. Dorothy
“Bales, you could have kept it. And I’m not sure your single bed, old couch and crappy dining room chairs, class as charity anyway.”
“Hey, they were okay. They worked didn’t they? Gave you somewhere to sit and sleep ...”
And it's just as I pop out the last word, that I look up to see a chest. A very familiar chest in a grey shirt. My eyes trail over that glorious view, and my breath hitches, my hearts racing. I swallow and bite my lip, but I can’t help it. I have to look. So I do. I look up into Cam’s glaring face for one brief moment. Then a rush of burning pain crushes my stomach and I drop the cell, with Bennett still waiting on the other end, and my world goes black.
THRee
______________________________________
Muffled, muted voices from far, far away … “Bales, Bailey, Bai ...”
I can’t answer them. I can’t move. I can’t see. I’m trapped in some kind of dark space. It's annoying me. I want to answer them, to let them know I’m okay. But I don’t, because I can’t.
Then I feel arms around me. Warm, familiar arms. His arms. And they're carrying me. I wish I could move closer to his warmth. I crave it so badly.
What's wrong with me?
I try and fight. Fight the black, but its closing in once more, and I give in.
More voices, I don’t know where I am. But it smells. The antiseptic odor invades my nose, making my aching stomach churn. I never wanted to experience that smell again.
I've had enough.
A voice breaks through, getting louder and I’m diverted from those buried thoughts.
“She just fainted … I don’t know …doctor’s been in … not sure … I guess that’d be okay … I can ask her dad.”
Ask dad what? And who’s asking, and who’s talking? And where am I? … And fainted? … I don’t faint.
Well just that once. But I had good reason to faint then.
But not now.
That’s all over. At least I thought it was. It’s time for right. I changed course, surely that was enough.
Maybe not.
The voice has stopped. Or maybe I can’t hear it anymore. All I know is I’m tired.
So tired.
Beep … beep … beep … is my wake up call.
Who set the alarm? What the hell is dad thinking? Turn it off, someone. God, please turn it off.
My head hurts, and it’s making it worse. I try to open my eyes to find the button, but they won’t obey. I try to turn over but I’m glued in place. I twitch my finger in frustration, and I feel the warmth of a hand covering mine.
“Bales, Bales, everything’s okay, I’ll get your dad.”
Bennett? What’s he doing here? And where is here?
Beep ... beep … beep.
Oh, for the love of … Will someone please turn that off.
I attempt to rub my eyes, thinking I can pry them open with my fingers. But my arms won’t reach, they feel leaden, weighed down just like my whole body. I never knew I could feel this exhausted.
What the hell's wrong with me?
I take in a deep meditative breath, hoping that will help. The beeping continues, and my head throbs in response. What a nightmare. The last thing I remember was talking on the phone to Bennett and seeing Cam.
Cam?
I wonder where he is. I could have sworn he was carrying me. But maybe I was hallucinating, either that, or wishful thinking.
“Bales … honey.”
Huh? Haven’t heard Dad call me honey in a long while. It’s kinda nice. Makes me feel wanted and cared for.
I wrinkle my forehead and concentrate on opening my eyes. And this time they flutter, and I blink several times. Everything’s a big blur. White light dominates, making the faces fuzzy. My eyes are watery and sore, but I force them to stay open and turn my head to the side.
My dad’s tired eyes come into view, he looks grayer. He usually has that healthy suntanned glow. But not today, or tonight, or whenever this is. I have no idea how long I’ve been out of it.
I try to ask, but my voice is an incoherent rasp.
“It’s okay, honey, you’re okay. The doctor's coming.”
Oh no. I hate doctors. Doctors tell me bad things.
“Hey there, pretty girl.” It’s Bennett. And even he, for all his perfection, looks worn and wasted, like he's had a big night out.
I blink and give him a small smile.
Then the dreaded white cloak and clipboard appears and I frown. “Hi there, Bailey, I’m Doctor Richards.”
Good for you, I wish I could say. Now go away and let me be. I’m fine, really.
Except I know he won’t, he’ll want to stay and chat. I really hope he doesn’t. But I guess I’ve been prodded and poked and he’ll have stuff to chat about, questions to ask.
Questions I don’t want Dad and Bennett to hear. Please, please, please, don’t say anything, I plead with my eyes.
The good doctor clears his throat. “Um, Bailey you're in Forest’s district hospital. You’ve been here for the past twenty four hours. You passed out and an ambulance brought you here.”
I nod as best I can, and my eyes widen. That’ll do. Enough. That’s all I need to know. Don’t say anything more. Please.
He gives me a long lingering look with his knowing brown eyes, like he can read my mind and see the panic written like a bad song across my face.
“I’m glad you’re awake, all your vitals seem good.” He gestures to a machine I hadn’t taken in yet, but one that I’m obviously hooked up to. Now the beeping makes sense.
Doctor Richards gives a small nod. “I’ll leave you for a bit, then come back after my rounds.”
I’m not completely off the hook, but I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, and the good doctor turns and leaves.
Dad grabs my hand and Bennett moves to the end of my bed. I guess they’ve been introduced. I wonder for a moment who did that and how that went.
Bennett as though reading my thoughts, gives me a wry grin. “Your dad and I met. I filled him in.”
Filled him in, could mean a few things with Bennett, but I know he won’t share any of the gory details of my life from the past two years. He’s heard enough about my dad to know better.
“This is going to kill you not being able to talk.” Bennett chuckles, but I can see the relief in his eyes.
I want to throw back a snide comment, but all I could manage right now is to stick out my tongue. I lick around my mouth, my tongue feels furry and disgusting and I have no idea what it might look like, so I decide against it and scowl at him instead.
Dad gives a small smile and squeezes my hand. “You a talker. When did that happen?”
I can’t give an answer, but I roll my eyes. I’ve always been a talker, just not to my dad. He’s the quiet type, doesn’t like unnecessary noise, so I’ve learnt to keep our chats to a minimum since mom died. It was easier, just like not talking about mom was easier, so we settled for silence and if worked for the most part.
And right now, that silence suits me just fine.
FouR
______________________________________
I’m going home today. Apparently the IV drugs have run their course and all should be well.
At least that’s what Doctor Richards said. He’s really nice. Much nicer than any other doctor I’ve met, and way nice than the last doctor I saw. He was just plain nasty. I mean, I got it at the time. But looking back he should have dug deeper, but he really didn’t care all that much. Just thought I was some stupid girl on a bender.
I wish. Huh! Never thought I’d ever be wishing to be one of those girls. The carefree kind, who drank and slept their way through college. I used to despise those girls. It was easy then though. Easy when I had Cam and he had me. We didn’t do the dating scene. We didn’t want anyone, or anything else.
Happy days.
Days I wish I could turn the clock back to. Days I would never have left if only I'd known what was in my future. Not the futur
e I ever envisaged.
Doctor Richards comes through the door wearing a warm smile on his lips and in his eyes.
I give a small smile back and he comes over to my bed. I’m in a ward with three other people, but I haven’t spoken to them. I’ve got the bed near the window, so I spend most of my time looking out at the hospital gardens.
Apart from Bennett and Dad, Gerry’s been in to see me. I still haven’t told her anything. I haven’t told anyone, well, except Dr Richards, and not like I needed to tell him, he found out and then asked the questions that I couldn’t escape answering.
Not this time.
Bennett and Dad just think I had a concussion from hitting my head when I fainted. They’re pretty hopeless when it comes to medical matters, so they didn’t question anything I told them and didn’t question the doctors or nurses.
Thank god.
I look across to the small posy of white and pink daisies. The card says: Hope you are feeling better, C.
C. for Cam.
Dad said he dropped them off at the reception the first day I was in here. And he hasn’t been back. The first communication I’ve had with him in two years. And if I could answer him, not quite sure what I’d say. The usual most people say when asked that question. Yes. Of course. Much better, thanks.
All lies.
Not sure I can lie to him again. Once was bad enough. So I sit and stare at those daisies and I wonder why. I wonder why he returned that day and what he wanted to say. I wonder why he glared at me before I passed out and why he didn’t just leave me.
Lots of wondering, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever know. Or even if I deserve to know.
Probably not.
Maybe once, but not now.
Doctor Richards, props himself on the edge of my bed and pats my hand. I question whether he does this with all his patients or just me. But I don’t see why I’d be any more special than anyone else. It's just his gentle bed side manner and his lovely way of caring. It’s nice.
“Hey, there Ms Ryan, how are you today? All ready to set sail?” He smiles again.
“Yep. More than.”
“Good, good. Now do you have any more questions? Anything you’ve thought of.”
“Not right now. I think you’ve covered it all.”
He gives a slight frown, and then pulls a card from his white coat pocket. “Here, this is my card. You can call me any time. I’d prefer that you call and ask, rather than sweating on anything. Okay?”
I nod. “Thanks.”
“Bailey, do you have anyone you can talk to about all this?”
I think on that. Dad, definitely not. He’d freak. Bennett knows some, but I can’t picture telling him everything, I think he might freak too. There’s Cam, but he’s out of the picture, and I really can’t imagine that conversation.
Gerry is the only possibility. I look up at Dr Richards. “Yeah, I have a friend. I could talk to her, I guess.”
“Good, good, I really think you need to talk this through with someone. Someone you trust.”
He pulls another card from the same pocket. “If not, there is another option.”
I raise my eyes as he hands me a crisp white card with a few pink petals dropping from the corner. Pretty I think. Then I read the name. Dr Lee White, psychologist.
Holly hell, a shrink!
I really don’t think that’s necessary. But I smile again and say thanks. Dr Richard gives me one more hard stare, pats my hand and says goodbye, after reminding me to get back on track with my eating and taking better care of myself.
Yeah, I’ll get right on that.
My stomach churns at the thought.
So Bennett is driving me home. He hasn’t said much and I know what he’s wondering.
Suspicious Minds starts playing on the stereo. Perfect. Why does the radio god always play the right tune at the wrong time?
Bennett taps the steering wheel to the thumping beat, as a smug grin spreads across his gorgeous face. Smart ass.
I sigh, loud and long.
“You got something on your mind, pretty one,” he says.
Ha, very funny. I cross my arms. “No.”
“You sure, you don’t want to share?” The grin disappears now.
“What do you mean?” I ask fiddling with my seatbelt.
Bennett turns the volume down on the stereo. Uh oh, now I'm in trouble.
We don’t have far to go. We’ve been driving for about twenty minutes and I know we’ll be home in less than ten, so if I drag out the conversation with vague answers, I can avoid this. Or so I think.
“Well, I know that you don’t get IV drugs just for concussion.”
“You do?”
If he knows, I’m wondering if Dad does too.
Double uh oh.
“Bales, you were haemorrhaging. It was really bad.”
I squeeze my hands together. I’m so not ready to talk about this.
“Who told you that?”
“The doctors told your dad, and your dad told me.”
“Dad knows?”
“Yeah. They had to tell him. You were out cold. They had to get his consent to take you to theater.”
Crap. Duh! I'm so stupid.
“Um … why didn’t he say anything?”
Bennett arches a brow and twists his lips.
I fling my head back on the headrest and close my eyes. Now home is not the haven I thought it was going to be. Maybe I should get Bennett to drive in the opposite direction, but I know he won’t.
“Bales ...” He starts and then stops.
Dear god, I wish I could disappear. I know what he wants to ask.
“Is this why?”
I grit my teeth. I can’t answer. I don’t want to talk about it. I never thought I’d have to.
I am such an idiot of epic proportions. Of course moving on would never be this simple. Nothing is ever simple for Bailey Ryan. She screws things up, and then screws them up some more, so things are screwed so tight, there’s too much damage to unscrew them.
“Bales, is this why you took them? I have to know.”
I shake my head. No you don’t.
Bennett hits the steering wheel and clenches his jaw. “I am so going to kick the Double A's ass into next week.”
“No!” I scream out and cough on a sob, which nearly chokes me.
Bennett puts his foot on the brakes and pulls over to the side of the road. He moves like lightening, taking off my seatbelt before I can blink, and pulls me in for a hug. A hug I don’t really deserve. I’ve been nothing but dishonest with him. I choke out another sob and he holds me tighter. He rubs my back and I can’t stop it. I can’t stop the tears. Tears I thought I’d shed and finished with. But they won’t stop this time. I’m drowning in my own tears, and I can’t see my way to swim free.
Bennett’s nice white polo shirt is awash and stained with my tears. My stomach aches from all the heaving, but in a way I feel better. Bennett tips my chin to look into his beautiful blue eyes. He has the kindest, nicest eyes. I love him so much. He's the best friend ever.
“I’m really sorry,” I splutter.
Bennett puts my long brown hair behind my ear and rubs the tears from my eyes with the pads of his thumb. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Bales.”
“I should have told you.”
“Yeah, maybe. But I get why you didn’t.”
“I must look like a mess. Dad's going to freak out. ”
“Bales, your dad loves you. He might not say much, but I know how worried he is about you.”
“What did you tell him? You know ... about ..." I can't say his name.
“I didn’t tell him anything. That’s not my job.” He looks at me intensely.
I swallow. “Yeah, I get it. It’s all mine. I’m just not sure I can.”
“You really need to deal with this Bales, it’s the only way you can move on.”
“I know. But that’s easier said than done. My head is so full. I’m not sure how I feel about any
thing.”
“Your dad will help. Being home will help. I really get it now. And for what it’s worth I think you did the right thing.”
I frown.
“Coming back here. I think you need to heal from this. And being with your dad and staying home will give you some perspective.”
I nod, and wipe away another tear. “I thought I’d talk to Gerry. I’ve missed her, and our girl talks.”
Bennett dramatically puts his hand on his heart, feigning being wounded. “That hurts, Bales, you know I’m your very best girlfriend.”
I let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, well if you had the right anatomy I might agree with you.”
“Insignificant details. You know I’d bleed for you.”
I screw up my nose. “Ew … That’s so gross, and so inappropriate, it’s not funny.”
Bennett shrugs. “Well it’s true. You know I’m here for you, anatomy aside.”
I do know that. I give him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best.”
He grins. “Right back attcha.”
“So … Dad.”
“Yeah, Dad.”
“What does he know, exactly?”
“He knows what caused the haemorrhaging. So yeah, he uh… pretty much knows what happened. Except he doesn't know who’s to blame.”
Brilliant. And I know with no uncertainty that will be the question he’ll be asking.
The very question I do not want to answer.
Bennett opens my door. I love his car, or should I say truck. A 79 Silverado Chevy. It’s his pride and joy. He bought it with his own money, and restored it, which means volumes to Bennett. His dad is part owner in the company we work for and is pretty well off. Not in an uber rich, helicopter pad kind of way, but enough that he has powerful connections and lives the good life. Bennett doesn’t buy into that though. Well, he doesn’t anymore. He wants to prove himself. Not sure who to, but that fact alone seems to motivate Bennett.
He puts my bag on the small front step and pulls me in for a quick hug. He doesn’t say anything, just gives my pouting lips a quick peck.
I turn. “Where are you going?”
“Thought, I’d catch up on some texts and have a coffee in that nice new place. I’ll be back.”