by Emma Tharp
Walking through the doors of the hospital, I still remember the strong antiseptic smell, it made me want to pass out. And then seeing the ten-year-old Amelia, laying on the bed, pale with dark rings under her eyes. My chest ached. I wanted to go to her, touch her. Make sure she was going to be okay. That’s when I knew I cared for her. She was no longer just Will’s sister, but someone I wanted to protect and look out for.
“Great idea. I’ve got to head home too. Check on the nanny and see Lauren before it’s time to tuck her in.” His face lights up talking about his daughter. She brings him such happiness.
Would I be like that? Rushing home to play with my kid and read them bedtime stories? Yes, I think I would. Drinking the last of my beer, I stand up and say, “It’s time to go see my girl.”
“Just be there for her. That’s all you have to do.”
“Got it. Thanks,” I say before rushing out of his office and going to mine to get my keys.
Hospitals are the worst. The smell, the sickness, and sadness. My legs get weak as I round the corner toward Amelia’s room. The entire way over here I knew I was making the right move by coming. Now, when I know she’s just down the hall, I’m not so sure.
Just outside her room, I take a few deep breaths, and straighten the bouquet of flowers I picked up in the gift shop downstairs.
Opening the door, I look inside, unsure of what I’ll see. Amelia is pale and she’s lying there, not moving an inch. Her eyes are closed, but red rimmed. There’s monitors behind her and she has an IV in her arm. Next to her sits a woman who’s probably a few years older than Amelia. I bet she’s closer to my age. She’s reading something on her phone. I clear my throat and the woman looks up.
She gets up out of her chair and comes up to me. She points toward the hallway. We walk out there together.
“Hi, my name is Dora.” She puts her small hand out toward mine. Her nails are long and painted red.
“I’m Jackson.”
Her mouth makes an O shape and her brown eyes scan my body. “You’re Jackson. Nice to meet you.”
“Do you work with Amelia?” I vaguely remember her mentioning a co-worker with that name.
“Yes. And when she called me this morning to tell me something wasn’t right, I called our boss to tell him.”
Nodding, I say, “Good. Do you know what happened?”
Her forehead scrunches up; she’s not sure how much to tell me. “She told you over the phone. She had a miscarriage.”
Yes. She mentioned that, and I was wondering why she needed surgery. It doesn’t seem like Dora is ready to tell me anything. Clenching my jaw, I ask, “Right. How long has she been sleeping?”
“It took her quite some time to get comfortable and relax. The nurse gave her something to sleep. I don’t think she’s going to be waking up anytime soon.”
“I could relieve you and stay.”
“No. She asked me to stay. And I remember she asked you to stay home tonight. Don’t you think you owe it to her to respect her wishes?” she asks with an authoritative tone, crossing her arms in front of her ample chest.
Stretching my neck in both directions does nothing to ease the tension settling there. I had resolved to come see Amelia and be here for her. It’s as if Dora thinks she’s Amelia’s body guard. She’s not backing down and there’s something in her squared off stance and facial expression that tells me there’s not a damn thing I can do to change her mind. I hand her the flowers. “Tell her I stopped by, please. And have her call me when she wakes up. I don’t care what time it is.”
“I’ll tell her.” She gives me a half-hearted smile and walks back into the room.
As I take the elevator down to the ground floor, the wind goes out of my sails. Things went differently in my mind. I saw myself coming to the hospital and taking Amelia in my arms. We would comfort each other. She would cry on my shoulder. But none of that happened. It didn’t feel like the right time or the right place to tell off her co-worker. It’s all going to have to wait for tomorrow. I’m not going to back down next time.
Two damn days go by and I still haven’t seen Amelia. Work has been chaos, but I would’ve made time to drive her home from the hospital. Her bodyguard, Dora, took Amelia back to her house to help take care of her. When I told Amelia that I would be happy to take a few days off and be there for her, she insisted that all was well and that she would be fine at Dora’s house. Except I could tell she wasn’t doing well. It’s eating me alive that I can’t be with her. She won’t even give me Dora’s address.
Amelia is avoiding me. I don’t chase women, but here I am. She’s different than all of the others; she’s special. Beautiful, smart, funny, and she challenges me at every turn.
I’m distracted as fuck at work. My head aches and there’s a permanent knot that’s imbedded itself squarely between my shoulder blades. Brae’s been on my ass asking me what’s wrong. I’ve been avoiding him. We have a huge project coming up. I’ve got to get focused. Everyone in my path knows not to fuck with me. I’m blowing up at people for stupid reasons. The situation with Amelia is fucking with my head.
Sifting through the large stack of mail on my desk that’s been sitting here for days, there’s an envelope with frilly woman’s handwriting. Tearing it open, it’s an invitation to Will and Julia’s engagement party. The date is this weekend. I knew it was coming up, but I never put the date in my planner. Shit. I have to go. Of course, he’s my best friend. But I’m not ready to see Will and Amelia in the same location. It could get awkward.
Picking up my cell, I dial Amelia’s number. I’m typing an email on my computer, because I know the likelihood of Amelia answering my call is slim. She takes forever to answer. Just as I think I’m going to have to leave a voice mail, she picks up. “Hello.” Her tone is dripping icicles. My hands halt over the keys.
“How are you doing today?”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you still in pain?” I hate that she’s in any pain at all.
“No, I’m doing much better.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Can I see you tonight?” Fuck if I don’t sound desperate. I fiddle with the stacks of papers on my desk, not sure what to do with my anxious energy.
The line is quiet for what feels like forever. “Not tonight.”
The side of me that’s impatient wants to tell her that I’m coming to find Dora’s house to pick her up, then put her over my shoulder, and take her to my house. I tuck that side of me far away; there’s no place for him here tonight. “Okay, but I’d like to see you soon. I’m worried about you.”
“Really, Jackson, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Why does she think she has to be so damn strong all the time? “That’s impossible. I care about you and you’ve gone through so much lately. I wish you’d let me be there for you.”
Amelia sniffs a few times into the phone.
“Are you crying? Please let me see you,” I plead with her. Hearing her cry is like torture. Nothing wrecks me more than that. I don’t know if there’s anything I can say or do to help her, but I’d like the chance to try.
“Give me some time, okay? You’re right, this isn’t easy. Let me process this in my own way,” she says in that stubborn tone of hers. She’s always been this way, and when she gets something in her head, good luck trying to change it.
“Okay. I respect that.” Even though I don’t particularly like it.
“Thank you.” Her tone softens.
“Are you going to Will’s engagement party this weekend?”
“Of course,” she says.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for it.”
“I’m not, but how would I explain it if I didn’t show up? And I know you’re going too. I need to ask you not to talk to me about the baby. At all. If I get upset, people will ask questions that I don’t want to answer. Okay?”
Of course, I don’t want to upset her, but I’m going to talk to her. It’ll be impossible for me to avoi
d her. Especially since I haven’t seen her in days. “I won’t bring up the baby.”
“Good, thank you. I’ve got to go get some rest.” There’s relief in her tone. Does she honestly believe that I want to make life hard for her?
“If you need anything, day or night, I’m here for you.”
“Goodbye, Jackson.”
“Goodbye.”
When the call ends, I’m crushed. She won’t let me see her and she’s sad. All of my instincts tell me to go to her, but I refuse to go against her wishes. At least I know I’ll get to see her this weekend.
4
Amelia
“Everything okay with you today, Amelia? You look a little pale,” my co-worker Dave asks.
Maybe it was a little too soon to come back to work, five days after the miscarriage, but I had to get out of the house. I was going stir-crazy. And Dave is so sweet. “I’m doing better. Guess I should’ve applied more blush today.” I told everyone I had the flu, that’s why I was out of work.
Dave puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. “I can run to Jamie’s Bakery and get you the donuts you like.”
If only I could fall for someone like Dave. He’s good-looking, sweet, and kind-hearted, but there’s no spark or butterflies. I understood early on what chemistry was. Whenever Jackson was around, even when I was young, I’d feel it. And it hasn’t changed. My heart flutters and knees go weak even when I hear his voice. “No, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Getting back to work is helping me feel better already.”
As an advertising manager, there are days that I can sit at my computer all day. And that’s what I’ve needed to do to catch up. I oversee all the employees in the department, maintain the budget, and have direct contact with the clients. Needless to say, my inbox is full.
He scratches his jaw as his eyes drink me in. He’s not buying anything I’m selling.
“Seriously, Dave. I’m okay.”
“Will you let me know if you need anything?”
“Absolutely,” I say.
He’s still skeptical, keeping his quizzical gaze locked on me until he’s almost completely out of my office. I’m grateful that he cares about me, but I can’t tell him the truth about what happened. He’d probably carry me out of the office and force me to go back home. I know that’s what Dora wanted to do when she saw me this morning. My doctor would probably agree too. It was laparoscopic surgery, so my pain level is low and the medication alleviates all of my discomfort. And working at an advertising agency isn’t exactly physically demanding. I can sit in my office all day and barely need to get up and move around.
Being home alone is absolute torture. My emotions are raw, like live wires constantly shocking me and every time I stop thinking about the baby, I’m startled into remembering and the cycle starts again. Only staying in the hospital one night was nice. It had a cold sterility that made me want to crawl out of my skin. Staying at Dora’s house for a couple nights was good, but going home seemed like the right thing to do. That was a mistake. At least at Dora’s we watched TV and talked. I wasn’t by myself with the horrible thoughts. The guilt and blame. There’s not enough room in my head or my heart for the sadness that won’t loosen its grip on me.
Jackson keeps trying to see me. I’ve sent him a couple of matter-of-fact text messages letting him know where I am and how I’m doing. I’m not heartless and he seems concerned about me. But I’m not ready to see him or the disappointment that I’m sure will be written all over his beautiful face. And I fear that maybe he isn’t disappointed. What if he’s relieved? That would be worse. It’s all a mess. We were just starting to get into a groove of being together. Yes, he was a player, but I know he cares for me and we were going to give a relationship a shot. It felt so right. And the timing for the pregnancy wasn’t ideal, but we could’ve made it work.
My work day is coming to an end. I’m grateful that I made plans with Scarlette tonight. We’re getting together for dinner. I haven’t seen her since her New Year’s Eve party over a week ago. We didn’t make the best exit. After I told Jackson that I was pregnant, he wanted to hit the road, and fast. It was embarrassing, but he played it off that he wasn’t feeling well. I guess I deserved it. The timing seemed good. A New Year’s surprise. It definitely didn’t work out that way.
Dave pokes his head back in my office and says, “Hey, lady. Any interest in some chicken noodle soup for dinner?” He walks back behind where I’m seated at my desk and grasps my shoulders and starts massaging. It takes a moment to relax, but when I do it’s heavenly. “I could bring it over to your place so you don’t have to cook. You know what they say about chicken soup.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I have plans tonight.” I tilt my head to one side and Dave digs his fingers into my exposed neck muscles.
“That’s too bad. I was ready to take care of you tonight,” he says.
“Hey, Amelia,” Dora says, swinging her hips into my office. Her mouth opens wide, like she’s going to say more, but she stops in her tracks.
“What’s up, Dora?” Dave drops his hands and comes around to the other side of my desk. “Amelia was looking tense. Thought I’d help her out. I’m taking off for the night, ladies. See you on Monday.” He tosses a smirk my way and then he’s gone.
Dora shuts my door and closes in on me. “What the hell was Dave doing?”
“You saw. Rubbing my shoulders.” The way she’s acting, you’d think she caught us in a make-out session.
“He has the hots for you.” She points her finger at my desk for effect.
“Seriously, Dora? He’s trying to be nice. I told him I had the flu.”
She’s shaking her head back and forth like it’s on a swivel. “Do you like him?”
“Yes, I like him. But that’s it. I don’t want to be with him if that’s what you mean.”
“You should try not to give Dave mixed signals. He’s a nice guy.”
It’s a mystery to me why she thinks she has to stand up for Dave, but this interaction is zapping the last of my energy. Note to self, keep an eye on Dave. If I get the vibe that he’s into me, I’ll pull back on our friendship. “Trust me, I won’t lead Dave on. But you came in here on a mission. What’s up?” I lean in and fold my hands in front of me on my desk.
“Oh, right. I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out tonight. Watch a movie.” She’s dropped her attitude and is all of a sudden back to her normal self.
“Sounds fun, but I’m meeting Scarlette tonight. Rain check?”
“Yeah. Sounds good. Call me later if you want to talk.”
“Thank you.” Dora has been great through all of this. I appreciate her opening her home to me and being a reliable friend. “You’re the best.”
“I know,” she says and blows me a kiss on her way out my door.
On the ride to the restaurant, I go back and forth about whether or not I should tell Scarlette about the miscarriage. She never knew I was pregnant. I don’t think she’d tell anyone, especially if I ask her not to. And she’s a great listener, always ready to lend advice when need be. She knows about everything Jackson and I have been through since Ireland. Maybe it’ll be best to see how the evening goes before I decide what to tell her.
Checking myself out in the rearview mirror, I pull some concealer out of my purse and dab it under my eyes. I apply some lip gloss and brush through my hair. Nothing I do seems to improve my worn out, pale appearance. Sure, my body could’ve used a few more days to recover, but my mind was teeter-tottering on depression. It was go to work or be sucked into the vacuum of sadness. Work won.
Scarlette is waiting for me at a table in the back of the Italian restaurant. The smell immediately improves my mood. Fresh garlic and doughy bread. It’s the first meal that’s sounded and smelled good in days.
“Hi,” I say, adding as much cheerfulness to my voice as humanly possible.
Scarlette stands and gives me a hug. When she pulls back and scans my face, it’s clear t
hat she can see something is wrong. Her eyebrows knit up and the back of her hand comes to my cheek. “Are you feeling okay?”
Blinking rapidly, I attempt to hold back my tears. Seeing her and her concern turns on the tap to my emotions. “Not really.”
“Oh, no. What’s wrong?”
Sitting down in a chair, I grab the napkin and dab my eyes before a real stream can get started. “I’ve got some bad news, but I need you to promise that you won’t tell anyone.”
She takes her seat across from me, never taking her eyes off me. “Of course, I won’t say a word.” Through tears and hard swallows, I fill her in, not skipping over anything, including how I can’t seem to face Jackson anymore.
“Wow, Amelia. I am so sorry to hear that.” Her hand rests on mine and she squeezes it. “I’m here for you if you need anything. To talk, or cry, anything.”
“Thank you.” I appreciate her genuine kindness.
“Can I give you a piece of advice?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“You should talk to Jackson. I saw him at McLoughlin Contracting a couple days ago. He isn’t in good shape. Braeden doesn’t know what’s going on. He asked Jackson if he needed a couple days off. Jackson just grumbled off and told Brae he was fine.”
Shit. I didn’t expect to hear that. “He’s really that upset?”
“Braeden says he’s been off for a few days now. Nobody can do anything right. He’s taking his frustrations out on everyone. Please see him. You guys should be together now. This is a difficult thing for both of you. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Damn hormones. I tear up again. The napkin is covered in black mascara. When a waiter comes up to the table to take our order, he hands me a new, fresh napkin. We tell him what we’d like to eat. Gnocchi for me and lasagna for Scarlette.
“Is it awful that I feel like I need some time? I want to see him, just not yet. The wounds are too fresh.”
“I thought you two were going to try and have a relationship. This isn’t the best way to make things work.”