Black Contract

by Charlotte Byrd

  “Yes, of course, he is. Of course,” Brie lies through her teeth. She has no way of knowing if he will actually be all right, but I appreciate the gesture. I need something to believe in right about now.

  Twenty minutes pass and it feels like it has been an hour. Another ten pass and it feels like it has been three hours.

  “I need to do something,” I say. “I need to get out of here.”

  “What? Where are you going to go?”

  “I don’t know. Where’s the nearest vending machine?” I ask. “Or the farthest one? I could use a stroll.”

  Just then a police officer approaches us. He’s dressed in his navy blues and looks very official. Almost like a cop from TV. He introduces himself as Officer Paulson.

  “What happened here?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

  “Did no one tell you?”

  I shake my head no.

  “Please tell me. I’m Aiden’s fiancée.”

  Officer Paulson looks down at his notebook, trying to avoid my gaze. This must not be his favorite part of the job.

  “Mr. Black…Aiden…has been shot,” Officer Paulson says, choosing his words very carefully.

  “Shot!? Why? By whom?”

  Now this is definitely not something that I ever expected in a million years.

  “Like mugged?” Brie asks. Yes, of course. A mugging is definitely a possibility. This is New York after all, a place almost as famous for its muggings as it is for its pizza.

  “No, we don’t think so,” he says.

  “What then?”

  “Can you tell me what happened? Where he was going?” Officer Paulson asks.

  I stare at him. I don’t know what he means or why he’s asking me these questions.

  “He was visiting me beforehand,” I say. “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

  “Oh, okay.” By the expression on his face, I can tell that this is news to him.

  “Didn’t Aiden tell you?”

  Officer Paulson ignores this question. “So, you said that he was with you at your apartment? Where was he going, ma’am?”

  “I was sick, throwing up. I wanted a bagel. I thought that it would make me feel better. So, he went to the bagel shop at the corner. Is that where this happened?”

  Officer Paulson writes something in his little notepad and then looks up at me.

  “I have to tell you something, ma’am.”

  I hate how he calls me ma’am. There’s a cold, detached quality to it. It’s like he’s referring to someone he doesn’t really want to go talk to. Even though I want to shake him to knock the words right out of him, I take a step forward and wait patiently for whatever he’s about to say.

  Why isn’t he saying anything? Wait a second. He has been shot. But not seriously, right? The thought of him being actually injured, like seriously injured, didn’t actually occur to me until this very moment. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to real people. It just happens to people on television, right?

  “Aiden has been shot, but he’s all right. He’s in a coma.”

  My mind starts to buzz. A throbbing headache forms in the back of my head.

  “A coma! No one who is all right is in a coma!”

  Why hadn’t he told me this originally?

  “Ma’am, please calm down. He’s going to be okay.”

  “How can you know this? You can’t possibly know this. I need to see a doctor.”

  At that moment, everything goes to black. People come up and talk to me, saying words that I don’t really understand. Luckily, Brie is there to listen and say things in return. I just stand here, waiting until they let me in to see him. A doctor comes out and talks to us in a hushed tone. He uses a lot of medical jargon to explain that Aiden has been shot and they had to put him in a medically-induced coma.

  “When will he come out of it?” I ask.

  “We’re not really sure. We are going to be monitoring him around the clock. I will also be conferring with other doctors in order to make that decision.”

  That can’t be good. You never want your doctor to meet with another doctor or doctors to make a medical decision. That means that something serious is going on, doesn’t it?

  After a while, the doctor leaves. He answers most of Brie’s questions, who, at this moment, is much more levelheaded than I am. Basically, the conclusion is that there’s nothing really to do. The situation is what it is and now it’s just time to play the waiting and praying game.

  After the doctor leaves, Officer Paulson comes over again and introduces me to his colleague, Detective Bradley. Bradley being his last name. Detective? Why is a detective here?

  Detective Bradley asks me to repeat my story about what happened. Where was Aiden before he was shot? Why was he going there? I tell him exactly the same thing that I told Officer Paulson. Why the hell is all of this so important anyway, I wonder. I mean, he was going to buy some bagels. What’s the big mystery here?

  “Detective Bradley, is it?” Brie asks. “Who do you think shot Aiden?”

  He takes a step back and looks at Officer Paulson. Now, not only are the doctors conferring about this case, but so are the cops. What the fuck is going on?

  “Well, we have a witness. The person who ran over to help Aiden and called 911.”

  “And?” I ask. “What did they say?”

  “He said that Aiden was having trouble talking. But when he asked him what happened, he said one name. And repeated it over and over.”

  “Whose name?”

  “I’m really not supposed to tell you,” he says.

  “But you’re going to, right?” Brie asks.

  Detective Bradley looks down at the floor and shuffles his feet. “Okay, but you didn't hear it from me.”

  We wait.

  “Blake Garrison.”

  Chapter 34 - Ellie

  When I hear the name…

  The name Blake Garrison rings through my ears. The cop goes on to explain what the witness saw, but it all goes in one ear and out the other. I ask Brie to repeat it all to me.

  “Blake shot him. From what the witness reported, he came up to him, they argued, and just as Aiden was walking away, he shot him,” Brie says after the cop leaves us alone.

  I feel my blood starting to boil.

  “How could he do this? Why? I mean, I knew that he was a piece of shit, but this? What the hell?”

  “People do crazy things when they get fired. Or embarrassed. Especially men.”

  I told Brie the story of what happened. The broad strokes anyway. She’s right. Of course, she’s right.

  The cop and the detective come back and insist that I give them a statement. He wants to know more about Blake and Aiden’s history and what could’ve caused him to do this. Motive. Well, I’ve got plenty to offer in that department. He takes me aside and I give him the full story. I don’t leave anything out. There’s no point. Who would I want to protect? Definitely not Blake. No, the truth about who he is and what he’s capable of needs to come out once and for all.

  “So, where is he now?” I ask.

  “We have an ABP out on him,” Officer Paulson says. “I’m sure that they will pick him up anytime now.”

  We spend the rest of the day in the hospital. I throw up every few hours and fall asleep in the waiting room, but I refuse to leave. I can’t. I ask Brie to bring me my pills and some comfortable clothes, but they don’t do much to make things better. Still, I wait.

  Finally, they let us in to see him. I see him lying in the bed with his eyes closed. Lifeless. His skin is pale and splotchy. His hair is dull. He has none of the spark that I have fallen in love with. It’s not that he even looks helpless. He just doesn’t look like Aiden. Not my Aiden.

  No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Tears start to run down my face. Please, please, come back, I whisper. I take his hand. It’s cold to the touch. He doesn’t respond. There’s just the steady beeping sound of the machine reminding me that he is still there. Somewhere.

 
“How long do you want to stay?” Brie asks. I turn around and look at her as if she’s insane.

  “Forever,” I say quickly. “Until he gets better.”

  “I don’t think you can.”

  “I don’t care.”

  If I can’t, then I will deal with this later. But for now, I’m here. And I’m staying here for good.

  Minutes turn into hours and I’m still here. I sit next to his bed staring at his face and wondering how it all went so wrong. Brie stays with me even though I ask her not to. There’s no need for both of us to lose sleep. Besides, she hardly knows him. But Brie stays anyway. She buries her head in her phone and pretends to work. Apparently, she’s working on some article. I can’t remember about what.

  After a while I can’t stand the wait any longer. I need a distraction. I take out my laptop, which Brie was kind enough to bring over along with some clothes and other sundries, and I check my emails. I have a number from my readers and they put a smile on my face. They’re asking when the next book in the series is coming out and tell me that they can’t wait to read it. In all the badness that surrounds me, these emails give me a glint of hope.

  As the hospital quiets down for the night, I prop up my feet on the chair next to me and open the latest Auction book. I have it all outlined, but have a few chapters written. But I couldn’t work on it when I was throwing up all the time. I flip to the thriller which I started, but that doesn’t seem right now either. I’m no longer in the mood to murder any characters to make myself feel better. No, I miss thinking about love and beauty and all the things that inspired the first book. I miss hope.

  I read over the outline of the next chapter and start typing. My head hurts and my eyes are barely staying open and yet I continue to type. The characters get into a big fight and take some time apart. During that time, she reminisces about the all the good times that they’ve had. Her good times are my good times. A few times, my throat closes up remembering all the laughs that Aiden and I had.

  It’s going to happen again, I say to myself glancing over at him.

  “Just wake up, honey, and I will be here for you. No matter what.”

  Wow.

  Now, there’s a statement. I mean, I’ve said that to him before, I'm sure. We all do in relationships. But do we really mean it? Do we really think that sometime in the future we might be faced with the prospect of really being there for this person? What if he’s totally helpless and dysfunctional? What if he can’t remember anything? What if he’s lost? What if he can’t take care of himself physically at all?

  Would I be here for him? Can I be here for him?

  I don’t really know what this means, but I know I want to. I just need him back. No matter what the condition. Back to normal would be best, of course. But I’ll take him in any way.

  But is that me just being naive? I mean, I have no idea what it’s like to have a sick boyfriend to take care of. And I know that I am not the most giving person in the world. I’m quite selfish and self-centered and I don’t really know if I can or will change that. Frankly, I don’t even know if I’m capable of changing this.

  For instance, I like my alone time. A lot. I like to have time to read and think. I like to have time to write and just be by myself. Not many people understand that. My mom never did. But Aiden did. And now what? What’s going to happen now? If he’s seriously injured? If he has crippling back pain? If he is in a wheelchair? What then? How will I be able to take care of him? I don’t really know. But I will try. There’s one thing I know for sure, I will do my best. I just hope that will be enough.

  Chapter 35 - Ellie

  When I go to the doctor…

  By the following morning, Aiden’s shooting is all over the news. Reporters are waiting outside the hospital and some are even crawling around the waiting rooms, pretending to be regular visitors. I don’t really have the energy to deal with them. Nor do I really know how to deal with them. Should I tell them to leave? Will that just make it worse? Maybe I should just ignore them. They won’t go away, but they won’t have much of a story to publish.

  I chose the latter. The decision isn’t exactly incorrect, but it doesn’t really solve my problem. They take pictures of me, unflattering at that, and within the hour I see myself on the cover of three online gossip magazines. Perfect. Perhaps, next time I should grant an interview and pose for the photo so I don’t look so pathetic and the headline doesn’t read ‘Aiden Black’s Girlfriend Waits for Him to Come Out of the Coma.’

  In the morning, Brie comes back with some coffee and pastries from Starbucks. I ask if she’s heard anything about Blake and she says that they’re still looking for him. She talked to Officer Paulson on the phone before she came over and he didn’t really have any news for her.

  “So much for that All Points Bulletin, right?” I say.

  “They’re doing their best,” Brie says.

  “Yes, I know they are,” I say. “I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Because you’re tired and pissed off that your fiancé and the father of your unborn child is lying here in a coma while the guy who did this to him is out there running around free.”

  I stare at her. “Yes, thank you very much, Brie Willoughby, for that detailed explanation and examination of my feelings.”

  She flashes me a sarcastic smile. I’m about to respond with something witty when a wave of nausea comes over me. I run to the toilet, which is luckily inside the room, and throw up. After I vomit my guts out for a few minutes, my body gets the chills. More like the chills followed by intense heat. I lie down on my side on the cool floor not caring how gross it is to put my face down on the hospital floor and wrap my hands around my knees. A few minutes later, Brie comes in and helps me into the ensuite shower. I let the warm water run down my body and I feel a little bit better. But the sensation doesn’t last. I get too hot and throw up again, this time in the shower.

  “Fuck,” I moan when I get out of the shower, wrapping my towel around me. Brie hands me the bottle of Diclegis pills, which seem to be doing fuck all right now.

  “This really sucks,” Brie says. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  I shrug and start to put my clothes back on. Just then there’s a knock at the door. The doctor I met last night, and whose name I cannot remember, comes in with a few other people. Dr. Reycook introduces herself again and introduces the residents who are there to learn from Aiden’s case. I shake their hands with my hair dripping water on the floor.

  She reads over his chart and confers with the others in their white lab coats. Then she turns to me and says, “Everything seems to be okay.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “Well, we will continue monitoring him, but if he continues to improve, we will take him out of the coma in a few days.”

  “He’s improving?” I ask, looking over at Aiden’s almost lifeless body.

  “I know that it’s difficult to tell, but he is. His heartbeat is stronger and other vital signs are looking good, too.”

  I ask her more questions, but her answers are not much clearer than that. What is a relief is that he’s apparently getting better. When they leave, I walk over to Aiden and take his hand.

  “You’re going to be fine, honey,” I say through the tears. Happy tears. “You see. You’re going to be all fine.”

  Brie stays with me for a while and we spend an hour watching Judge Judy without saying a word. Then, suddenly, something occurs to me.

  “Oh, crap, I just remembered. I have my ultrasound appointment today. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “When?” Brie asks.

  “This afternoon. But I guess I can cancel it.”

  “No, don’t. It will take you away from here for a bit. Might be nice. Plus, you need to get the ultrasound sometime anyway, right?”

  I shrug. I guess.

  “Well, perhaps today is as good a time as any.”

  Dr. Emily Bodon’s office is mysteriously located in a suite with three proctologists. I wr
ite my name on the clipboard by the nurses’ station and they hand me another clipboard with three pages of questions to answer. Perfect, I think to myself. But I guess it’s something to do while I wait. I fill out the info on the clipboard. It doesn’t take long. I don’t have any diseases and am not taking any medication. I just mark NO all the way down on one long box of questions. When I turn it in, the man at the front desk points out how quickly I managed to fill out the page.

  Then I sit and wait. And wait some more. A couple of women come in and are quickly taken back. I ask why they went ahead of me in the nicest way possible. I don’t want to be rude since I’m a firm believer that you get more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.

  “They are here to see someone else,” the front desk guy says. I nod as if I understand, but I suspect that that’s a lie. Still, there isn’t much I can do about any of it.

  A few minutes later, a nurse with a friendly look on her face and a clipboard in one hand calls my name. First, we stop by the scale. Shit. I can barely look. I’ve gotten so fat. It has only been a few weeks, but I’ve already gained so much weight. At this rate, I’m going to weigh close to two hundred pounds by the time I give birth.

  “I’m getting big?” I say. It’s partly a question and partly a statement. I feel bad because she is actually considerably bigger than I am but I can’t help how crappy I feel about how I look.

  “No, not at all.” She smiles. “I’ve had three kids.”

  I guess her statement is supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn’t. I just feel worse. And more unattractive. I follow her to the room and she tells me to sit down and that the doctor will be with me soon. I expect to be asked to change into one of those paper gowns, but not this time. Well, that’s good I guess. I hate those things.

  When she leaves, I look around. There’s a big poster of a woman’s reproductive organs on the far end next to the magazine rack. I guess it’s good that they provide magazines here in addition to the waiting room, but I hate what their presence indicates - that more waiting is involved.