Left Hanging

by Cindy Dorminy

I blink. “Yeah. Uh, it’s…”

  “Was she born at this hospital?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Check the electronic medical record,” he tells the clerk.

  “That makes things easier. Is she allergic to anything?”

  “Uh… no.”

  The clerk taps at her keyboard. “Is she taking any medications?”

  “No.” My voice hitches. Theo’s warm hand rests on the small of my back.

  “Blood type?”

  “She’s B positive.”

  “Okay, we’ll probably need you to donate blood, just in case.”

  “Uh, okay. Wait. I’m AB negative.” I sigh and bury my head in my hands. I can’t even help my own child. “I can give blood for your bank, but it won’t help her. She’ll reject my blood type.”

  I peer up at Theo. I know without asking what his blood type is going to be.

  “I’m B positive,” he says. “But I’m not supposed to donate blood. Diabetes.”

  “Hmm,” the clerk says, writing all our answers down. “We may need you to donate anyway, depending on our supply.”

  Tommy and Shelby rush into the emergency room, and Shelby wraps me in a hug. “Is she here yet?”

  Tommy squeezes Theo’s shoulder.

  “Tommy, she’s got B positive blood,” I say. “If necessary, would you donate blood?”

  “Of course.”

  “The helicopter’s landing now,” the clerk says. “Come with me.”

  We all follow on her heels.

  She stops. “Only immediate family.”

  I desperately seek out Tommy’s expression. He gives me an encouraging nod.

  Shelby gives me a kiss on the cheek. “It’s going to be all right. You know what you have to do.”

  I take Theo’s hand and tug him forward with me. “Come on.”

  He scrunches his forehead. “She said family only.”

  After I swallow the frog in my throat, I say what I’ve needed to say for a very long time. This isn’t how I wanted to tell him, but I don’t have any other choice. The secret ends now.

  “You are family. You are Stella’s father.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Theo

  Holy mother of God. Thirty seconds ago, I was helping someone I love deal with a medical emergency. It’s what I’m good at—staying calm during a crisis. But thirty seconds ago, I wasn’t a father, and it wasn’t my medical emergency. Now I couldn’t even remember how to add fractions if anyone asked me.

  She said Stella is mine. I have a child. We have a child. The blood drains from my head, and I feel as though I’m going to pass out if I don’t tell myself to breathe. I’m only able to meander down the emergency room hall because Darla leads me by the hand.

  A gurney whizzes down the hallway toward the emergency room and vanishes behind a privacy curtain. From the viselike grip Darla has on my arm, I know it was Stella who was whisked past us.

  A tall woman rushes up to us and wraps her arms around Darla’s neck. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how this happened.”

  Darla hugs her back and wipes tears from the woman’s face.

  Darla’s sister, Diane, wipes her nose with her sleeve. “I was so scared. I don’t know how you deal with trying to be brave. I tried to stay calm. I promise I tried.”

  “It’s okay,” Darla says. “I hope it will be okay.”

  Her sister glowers at me. “Who is this?”

  I see fear in Darla’s eyes as she shifts her focus from me to the woman. “Diane, this is Theo.”

  Her eyes stare a hole through me. “You seem familiar.”

  The airport. Holy crap. The little girl at the airport. The same little girl in Jennifer’s class. She’s Darla’s. She’s my… I stumble backward, putting my hands out to steady me. I crash into a wheelchair parked behind me in the hallway.

  “This can’t be happening,” I mumble. “I saw her with Stella at the airport.”

  “Oh God,” Darla says under her breath.

  “And Jennifer was her teacher, wasn’t she?” I ask.

  Darla nods without meeting my eyes. I pivot and lean against the wall. Jennifer knew. She knew, and she didn’t tell me. The deer-in-the-headlights expression she had when I mentioned Darla’s name, the stranger-than-usual phone conversation… everything makes sense now.

  “Who is this?” Diane asks again.

  Darla clears her throat. “Theo is Stella’s father.”

  Diane throws daggers at me with her eyes. “I thought you didn’t know who the father was.”

  Darla bites her trembling lip. “Not exactly.”

  Diane marches over to me and slaps me across the face, hard. Damn, that hurt. “You horrible son of a—”

  “Stop it,” Darla yells, moving between us.

  “Stella Battle’s parents?” a man calls out.

  Darla and I push past Diane and rush toward the man. He’s wearing a yellow gown over his scrubs, booties over his shoes, and a mask hangs around his neck. It all screams, “full contact precautions.” They think whatever Stella has is infectious. Shit.

  “I’m Dr. Michaels. Dr. Edwards, right?”

  I nod. “Theo.”

  “I’m a pediatric infectious disease specialist. They called me in to take care of your daughter. We’re getting little Stella settled right now.”

  My daughter. I have a daughter.

  “What happened?” Darla asks.

  “From the appearance of the affected area on her left foot, we’re looking at a serious infection.”

  Darla sniffles again. “How?”

  “Her aunt told the flight nurse they went on a pontoon boat ride, and when Stella jumped onto the shore, she fell and cut her foot on a rock. The brackish water must have been the perfect breeding ground for bacteria. I think we’re dealing with an aggressive infection, hence the protective gear.”

  I can hardly form complete sentences at this point. I’m lucky I even know my own name. I think it’s Theo. “What kind of bacteria?”

  “We’re doing cultures of blood, tissue, and saliva to determine exactly what. Once we know that, we can focus on her best treatment.”

  “But it could take days to get the cultures back,” I say.

  He nods. “I know, but I have my suspicions, so we’ll start antibiotics as soon as we’ve collected all of the samples. We’ll need to get her to surgery to clean out the wound and debride if necessary.”

  Darla gapes at me, wide-eyed. “He thinks there’s dead tissue.”

  “What do you think it is?” I ask him.

  He stares at both of us and sighs. “I’d bet money on necrotizing fasciitis.”

  I have lost all ability to breathe. Flesh-eating bacteria. No! This cannot be happening.

  Darla whimpers into her hands.

  I shake my head so hard, I think it’s going to fall off. “That’s impossible.”

  “Rare, but not impossible. This is the third case at this hospital alone this summer, but she’s the youngest patient I’ve seen.”

  Darla sniffles. “But chances are it’s something more common, easier to treat, right?”

  “I hope to God I’m wrong. But I need you to prepare for the worst.”

  “Which is?” I ask.

  I don’t want to know, but I need to know. I have a strong feeling I know what he’s going to say, but the words have to come from him. This isn’t a nasty boo-boo that needs a kiss and a good dousing of antiseptic to make it all better.

  He clears his throat before he continues. “Organ failure, amputations, possibly even death.”

  Darla backs up to me and spins around. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She runs to the nearest bathroom.

 
I wipe my face with my hands. I think I’m going to lose my lunch too.

  “Is your wife going to be all right?”

  I take a slow, deep breath. “We’re not married.”

  “Oh, sorry. Anyway, we have to stay one step ahead of the organism, and that may mean losing limbs. It’s awful to think about your little girl without a leg, but it might save her life.”

  I hold my hands out in front of me. “I don’t want to go there yet.” I turn my back on him and try to breathe.

  “If it’s Strep A, we’ve got a treatment for it. But we have to stay on top of it. It’s pesky, but not very virulent as long as the body doesn’t try too hard to fight against the treatment.”

  I wheel around and cock my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  Darla bursts out of the bathroom, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. Her face has a greenish tint to it. “Can I see her? Please, I need to see her.”

  He sighs. “One at a time, though. It’s very crowded in there, and you’ll have to suit up. We’re trying to get her in to surgery soon. So get in and out before we intubate her.”

  Darla’s lip quivers. There are so many unspoken words behind her sad eyes. I know she’ll have to tell me everything, but not right now.

  “You go first,” she says. “I guess I owe you that much.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  Her lip quivers. “Go before I change my mind.”

  I nod and slip away with the doctor. He helps my trembling hands get inside the armholes of the protective gear. One leg at a time, I hobble into the suit, and he fastens the Velcro strips for me. “It sure is different being on this side of the bed, isn’t it?”

  I nod.

  He opens Stella’s door, and we enter the beehive of activity surrounding this little bitty human that I created. A nurse taps information into a computer next to the bed. Everyone in the room is rushing about, doing their jobs like they are supposed to do. But to me, it looks as though they aren’t paying her any attention. Stella lies there with no one holding her hand or whispering to her not to be scared.

  My little girl so sick, it about kills me. Her eyes are closed. Beads of sweat cover her forehead. I want to pick her up and rock her until she’s all better.

  I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together. She’s got my crazy hair, my nose. She’s a female version of me when I was in the first grade. She looks exactly like me in every way possible. I should have been able to zone in on that fact and pick her out in the crowd. But I saw her in Jennifer’s class and at the airport, and it didn’t register because this is supposed to be impossible. I’ve always been told I would never be able to father a child, but I did, and she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I can’t let anything happen to her.

  Stella’s left leg’s has Betadine spread all over it, all prepped for surgery. Her left foot is three times the size of her right foot—swollen and cherry red. The edema extends up her calf, almost to her knee. Either it doesn’t hurt, she doesn’t feel the pain anymore, or she’s the bravest person I know.

  The nurse taps Stella’s arm, and her eyes flutter open.

  I blink away the last few tears and try to put on a brave face for her. “Hey, there. Do you remember me?” Probably not, considering the only part of my face not covered are my eyes.

  Even though she’s in pain, her eyes twinkle with recognition. “How’s your sugar?”

  Her sweet voice makes me chuckle. “It’s pretty good. How are you?”

  “My leg hurts.”

  “Dr. Michaels is going to help your leg.”

  Her eyes well up with tears. One trickles down her sweet little cheek. “I’m scared.”

  I sit beside her and take her little hand in mine. Even through my gloves, I can feel her soft skin. “Me too. It’s okay to be scared. You do everything the doctor tells you to do, all right?”

  Her breath hitches, and another tear escapes from her eye. I wipe it away.

  “Where’s my mommy?”

  “She’s right outside.”

  More tears fall. “I want my mommy.”

  I nod and stand. “I’ll go get her.” I lean in and kiss her forehead.

  I kissed my little girl. On my deathbed, I want this moment to flash through my mind. Not because she’s so sick and could die, but because it’s the first time I got to kiss my daughter. I didn’t get to see her take her first breath or her first step. I wasn’t around when she spoke her first word, which I am very sure was “mama.” I didn’t even get to change one foul-smelling, dirty diaper. I have none of those memories. This is my moment, and I will never forget this moment no matter how long I live.

  When I go to leave, she says, “I got chocolate ice cream.” How she can be so scared and still think of something as trivial as ice cream, I’ll never know.

  I smile back at her, knowing good and well that she can’t see it behind my surgical mask. “And when you’re feeling better, we’ll both get chocolate. Deal?”

  She nods. “Deal.”

  I head back into the hallway. Darla waits right outside the door for her turn. Her eyes plead with me to tell her that Dr. Michaels is overexaggerating the severity of the situation.

  As the nurse helps me out of my gear, I tell Darla, “She is beautiful.”

  She bites her bottom lip and heads into the room.

  The nurse balls up my gown and disposes of it in the hazardous waste container. “I could tell you were her daddy a mile away. She’s the spitting image of you.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  I slide down the wall and crouch on the floor. My hands cover my face, and I shed more tears than I knew I was capable of producing. I’ve already developed such a strong connection to my daughter. These feelings are supposed to be reserved for a person I’ve spent years caring about, possibly decades. But here I am, and after one hour, I have a connection stronger than I have ever felt before. It’s almost as if my soul knew about her all along.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Darla

  Seeing my little girl being whisked away to surgery is more than I can handle. Her voice echoes in my mind, screaming, “Don’t leave me, Mommy. Don’t leave me.” I feel as though I’m living a nightmare in which my feet won’t move and everything is just out of my grasp. And as soon as I think I reach what I want, it’s suddenly out of my grasp again. I have never felt so helpless in all my life. The control freak in me can’t control this. Not one single thing is within my control right now.

  I stand in the empty emergency room bay, all alone with my thoughts. The family-only section of the emergency room is lonely, and I don’t know where Tommy and Shelby went. I have no one. The sterile room filled with medical equipment is quiet, but I’m screaming on the inside. My mind is like a pinball machine again. I cannot land on one emotion long enough to do anything about it.

  A cleaning lady slips into the deathly quiet bay. “Ma’am?”

  Her voice makes me jump.

  “I need to disinfect the room. Can I help you out of your gown?”

  “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

  She gingerly helps me out of the gear and places everything in the hazardous waste container. “Dr. Michaels knows what he’s doing. He’ll take good care of her.”

  I nod.

  She pats my arm. “Let’s get you to the waiting room where the rest of your family is.”

  She leads me out into the hallway where Theo is curled up against the wall. I slide down next to him and lean my head against his shoulder. He doesn’t reach out for me. We cry together in silence. His breaths are labored, and a moan escapes his lips. I have broken him. In the span of one hour, he has found out he has a daughter and that she might die. He will never be able to forgive me, not that I’m worthy of forgiveness.

  �
��It’s my fault,” I whisper. “Everything is my fault.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Excuse me, Dr. Edwards?”

  We gaze up to see a nurse standing over us.

  Theo clears his throat. “Yes?”

  “I’m Sharon, one of the ER nurses. Dr. Michaels told me you have the same blood type as Stella.”

  He nods. “Stella.” He says her name as if he’s trying it on for size.

  “I know you’re a diabetic, but he would really like you to donate blood for her. We need the least amount of reasons for her body to reject treatment. With you having the same blood type and being her father—”

  “You can have every ounce of my blood.”

  Sharon motions with her head. “Come with me. We’ll have to monitor you closely afterwards.”

  “I don’t care.” He rises to his feet and holds out his hand to help me up. “I’ll meet you in the waiting room as soon as I can.”

  I throw my arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

  His arms hang by his side.

  I step back and watch him leave with the nurse. He glances back at me once more before they round the corner.

  I stumble around until I find Tommy, Shelby, and Diane sitting in the corner of the busy emergency waiting room. All three jump up when they see me enter.

  Shelby wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Together, we make our way to the surgical waiting room for the longest night of my life.

  I sit curled up in a chair, wrapped in Isaac’s arms. He made it to the hospital almost before Shelby could get off the phone with him. Even though he’s not the person I wish was holding me, Isaac cares for me and for Stella in a way that I need right now.

  Theo has been gone for two hours. Tommy sits with his elbows resting on his thighs, head in his hands. Shelby sits between him and me, a comforting hand on each of our backs. Diane leans up against the wall, her breath hitching.

  My eyes follow a little girl bouncing down the hallway. She holds her daddy’s hand and clutches a smiley face balloon in her tiny fist. I may never get the chance to give my baby another balloon. I still have the deflated one from the day she was born. It was a pink teddy bear. I kept each balloon she got for every birthday. They range from unicorns to teddy bears to super heroes. They’re among the mementos I have stashed away in Stella’s boo-hoo box. Every time I rummage through it, I boo-hoo. If I had it with me today, I would ruin every item in the box with my tsunami of tears. Stella has made my life worth living, and if I could trade places with her, I would do it in a heartbeat, without even flinching. She does not deserve to be so sick, so close to death.