“But…”
“No, Al. I want you. I’ll be quite happy with just you by my side for the rest of my days. The thought of losing you? Well, that kills me. Promise me, Allie. If this gets too much, you’ll tell me? Promise me. Don’t put your life in danger.”
He’s deadly serious. There’s only one reply I can make. “I promise, Truck.”
But I wonder where that point would be, and whether I’d know it when it came.
Twenty years in the future - Drummer
“Ahoy there, Admiral!” comes a loud shout.
It can only be one person. Peg and I exchange amused glances as Tommy comes slowly down the track, carefully parking his mobility scooter at the end of the line of bikes. As adeptly as any of the brothers, the quiet beep beeping shows he’s put it into reverse so it’s just like the motorcycles are situated, facing out.
“You remember when we got him that?”
The corners of my mouth rise. “Sure do.”
We’d always thought Tommy was around thirty when he’d arrived, but no one knew for certain, certainly not the man himself. Maybe he was older, who knows? But the years have taken their toll on him. Always a big man, his weight kept piling on, despite Peg getting him onto an exercise regime and the women trying to watch his calorie intake and limiting it where they could.
The man became slower and slower, soon getting out of breath when he walked up the incline. But he never complained, and continued doing whatever he could, and always with a smile on his face. None of us liked to see him struggling, and it was Sam who’d suggested the solution.
Some had doubts and were concerned that even on a machine that couldn’t go any faster than eight miles an hour that he would be a danger to himself and to us. Blade said he’d have nightmares of him riding into the bikes. But Sam was insistent, and as in many things, I’ve learned it’s easier to just go along with her suggestions.
But we didn’t get any old mobility scooter, oh no, we got the one with the front end which resembles a Harley.
Fuck, his face. I chuckle to myself as I remember it. “He couldn’t have been happier if we’d bought him his own motorcycle,” I remind Peg. “The man broke down and cried.”
“He fuckin’ hugged it,” Peg replies. “To him it was his own bike. Learned to ride it fuckin’ quickly as well.”
I glance over to where Tommy is standing, a rag in his hand as he wipes some almost invisible dust from the handlebars. He loves that scooter as much as I love any of my bikes.
“It had been worth it, just to see his face, Brother.”
“That it was, Drum. Man might be suffering though he’d never tell us, but the joy he gets from that machine, well, that gives us all pleasure.”
Peg’s right, it does. The sight of a beaming Tommy coming down the track on his ‘Harley’ puts a smile on anyone’s face.
He’s now carefully attaching it to one of the charging points outside the clubhouse. After having cared for his most precious possession, slowly he walks over to us, his hand clutching at the railing as he takes the two steps to reach the veranda, then he takes a couple of deep lungfuls of air as he regains his breath.
“Admiral,” he says, again in greeting. Then adds respectfully, “Peg.”
Admiral. I choke back a laugh. Soon after he got here he’d been watching some film or other and decided I was like the man leading a fleet. He’d decided to give me the title, much to everyone’s amusement, and nothing I could say could alter his mind. No one else dared use it, well, the couple who tried caught the wrong end of my fist.
“You doing okay, Tommy?”
“Tommy’s good. Tommy’s hungry.”
“Got fried chicken inside,” Peg notes.
His eyes brighten and he rubs his stomach. “Fried chicken for Tommy. Mmm mmm.”
I’m shaking my damn head as he walks into the clubroom. “Dysfunctional family, that’s what you’ve always called us Peg.”
“Stand by it, too,” he states firmly. “Everyone’s got their place here, Drummer. All we ask is loyalty.”
He’s right. And strange as Tommy might be, he’s got that in spades.
“Life went on, didn’t it? Through all the shit Truck and Allie had coming.” I jerk my head behind me. “Tommy, the kids… We had to keep putting one foot in front of the other despite everything.”
“Only one direction to go in,” Peg agrees.
“But sometimes we don’t have where we’re going mapped out.”
“Truck and Allie didn’t. They were caught blindsided by everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Truck…
I walk into our regular church with my head bowed, the weight of the world on my shoulders.
“You look like shit,” Rock observes.
Shrugging, I simply turn my head toward Drummer, waiting for him to start the meeting, prepared to sit through reports from Dollar which won’t hold my interest at all. But for once, the Prez’s eyes are surprisingly soft when they return my gaze.
“Truck, time for a discussion. I hope you won’t take it the wrong way when I say that we all hold Allie in high regard. She’s been part of this club for as long as many people sat around this table can remember, and it’s fuckin’ hard to see both you and her struggling. What can we do to help?”
“She’s pregnant,” I state the obvious. It’s not a secret, everyone now knows. “Her body’s just not coping. I married her so…”
“You what?” Joker looks stunned.
“Why did we not know this?” Peg snarls.
“When?” Road’s eyes narrow. “Didn’t see you sneaking off.”
I realise they wouldn’t have seen Allie’s ring on her finger, she never comes out of our suite. And as for mine, well, as I no longer have the proper digit they wouldn’t have realised the implication. Now, I hold up my little finger bearing my wedding band. “That day when we went to see the doctor. Didn’t want to make a fuss. Of course, eventually, I would have asked her, done it properly and told everyone in advance. I had to do it fast to get her on my insurance.”
“I’d say congratulations, but I don’t think you’re in the right place to receive them,” Drummer observes. “I would have liked to have been told, but I can see why you treated it as a formality. Good thinkin’, Brother.”
“I’ll record it,” Heart says practically.
“I’ll update your records,” says Mouse. “Anything I can help with, just let me know.”
I thank them both, glad they’re not making a big thing of it.
“So you went to the doctor, what can he do?”
“Nothing, Prez. He thinks it will sort itself out at the end of the third month.”
Slick is shaking his head. “Ella had morning sickness, but it wasn’t anything compared to what Allie’s going through. What did you think of the doctor you saw, Truck?”
My teeth clench. “Not a fuckin’ lot. Had a discussion about the drunken lifestyle he thought we were living. Old fashioned as fuck. Bet it’s been some time since he last saw a textbook.”
Peg looks confused. “Where the fuck did you find this asshole?”
“I spoke to my surgeon asking for recommendations, and this is who he suggested.”
Heart frowns. “Why don’t you go see Dr Cassidy? That’s the woman Marc uses. She’s excellent. Oversaw Marc and the twins, and is looking after her this time as well.”
That’s an idea. “Think we might do that, Heart.” Anything is worth a try at this point, and it would be good to get a second opinion.
“I think you should.” Prez raises his chin. “In the meantime, can we do anything to make Allie more comfortable? She must be bored out of her head sitting up in your suite the whole time.”
“She’s weak, liable to faint. She needs to constantly be near a toilet or bowl, she’s sick at least twice every hour, day or night. She gets terrible headaches too.”
“Not surprised. She hasn’t eaten in weeks.” Even Blade looks concerned.
“What about Doc? Can he set her up with a saline drip or something?” Rock suggests.
Mouse looks doubtful. “Doc’s just a paramedic. I don’t know if he’d like interfering with a woman who’s pregnant.”
It comes out before I can stop it. “I fuckin’ wish she wasn’t.”
“What are you saying, Truck?”
I might as well lay it on the line. “I wish she’d get rid of it. I hate it, you know? Hate what it’s doing to the woman I love.”
“If that doctor is right, you’ve just got to get past these next few weeks. Take it a day at a time and hope for improvement. How about we set up a rotation of old ladies to go keep her company, try to keep her spirits up?”
I nod at Prez’s suggestion.
Then frown when Joker opens his mouth. “Yeah, no wonder she’s miserable, if all she’s seeing is your ugly mug all the time.” My lips actually twitch. I know it’s something he’d say to anyone, and not a reference to the scars on my face.
Lady slaps him around the head for me.
I answer the prez. “Company would be good, as long as they don’t overtire her.”
“I’ll speak to Sam. I’m sure everyone will want to be in on it.”
Viper raises his hand, and offers in an apologetic tone, “May need to leave Sandy out of it. She’s still not come around.”
“She’s an old lady and should listen to her old man,” Drummer snarls. “But if she can’t be pleasant, I doubt Allie would want to see her anyway.”
Neither do I want Allie faced with any more unpleasantness. She’s got enough to cope with as it is.
“I think the other old ladies, with the exception of yours Mouse, and Bullet, know what she’s going through to some extent. But Sandy? She’d have given her right arm to be pregnant, and never experienced it. She’s jealous, and hell, suspicious as Allie seems worse than anyone else and is getting the attention for being that way.”
“She thinks Allie’s making it up?” I glare at Viper. “What? She’s exaggerating to get sympathy?”
Viper shrugs. “Got to be honest with you, so yeah. Part of it is her thinking she’s playing on it.”
“You nip that shit in the bud,” Prez roars. His hands rake back through his hair as he glares at Viper, clearly upset with him.
Good. I don’t even like someone thinking something bad about Allie. She doesn’t deserve it.
That’s the end of the discussion about my wife. We spend the next couple of hours discussing club business which I pay some attention to. Knowing my brothers are there to support me and my old lady has helped.
Afterward, Prez follows through, not that I expected anything else. Sam gets straight on it. Allie even seems to brighten when she’s not alone for much of the time. Sophie and Marcia seem to be welcomed the most.
But despite her spirits being lifted a little, Allie gets no better. To my dismay, she keeps getting worse.
I’d made the appointment to see Dr Cassidy as Heart had suggested, but it’s another week before she can fit her in. The day of our visit, I drive the truck up as close as I can get it to our suite, as she’s far too weak to walk.
On the way Allie’s quiet, as though conserving her energy, her silence only broken by retches as she uses the bucket too many times.
Breaks my fucking heart.
The difference in doctors is striking, and is there from the moment we walk into her office.
“I’ve got the notes from your last doctor,” she starts. “You saw him, what two weeks ago? I don’t need to go over the basics. I’ll weigh you again, and we’ll check how baby’s doing on the ultrasound.”
“Allie’s really sick.” I can’t keep quiet. “I’m worried she’s harming herself and the baby.”
Dr Cassidy examines Allie with her eyes, then notes, “Well, that’s what we’re checking today.”
Allie’s watching the screen, seeing the lump of cells that’s causing all her problems. I’m watching the doctor’s face.
“Okay, clean up. Then we’ll have a discussion.”
When we’re once again sitting in front of her desk, Dr Cassidy’s face is serious. “You’ve lost a total of ten pounds if your pre-pregnancy weight was correct. We normally get concerned if you drop significantly, and five percent would be worrying. Your loss is more than that. We cannot let this go on.”
“The baby?” Allie’s concerned.
“The measurements are what I would expect. Baby is growing.”
Because it’s leeching the life out of her. Parasite is how I’d referred to it, and I think I could be right.
“Should she have an abortion?” I ask.
I don’t see shock that I’ve raised the word. Instead I see sympathy.
“How do you feel about that, Allie?”
“Doctor, I never wanted a baby. But now I’m pregnant, I don’t want to give this up. And it’s just a case of getting through the next couple of weeks, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and no. You don’t have morning sickness, Allie. You’ve told me none of the normal remedies work, and with the symptoms you’re presenting, I’m pretty confident in a diagnosis of Hyperemesis Gravidarum. HG, as we call it, is severe sickness experienced during pregnancy. It’s not that common, but can be traumatic for a sufferer. It is more serious and debilitating than normal morning sickness. At the moment there’s no actual treatment or cure, all we can do is mitigate the symptoms.”
“Does it stop, like morning sickness?”
“Morning sickness lasts typically for the first trimester. With HG, the majority of patients will see improvements after week twenty, but in extreme cases, it can continue for the whole of the pregnancy and only stop at the birth of the baby.”
“No way,” I say quickly. “Allie will be dead in another ten weeks. Allie, you must consider…”
“No,” she says firmly. “If you can put a name to it, can you treat it?”
Doctor Cassidy nods. “There are some things we can try. A process of elimination to see what might work. But I can understand your husband’s concern, Allie. This is going to put a toll on your body, mentally and physically. A number of sufferers with this condition do consider termination.”
“My body might be weak, but my mind’s strong,” Allie insists.
All Allie’s stubbornness is coming to the fore. Tell her she can’t have something and it makes her more determined. I’m wishing I didn’t have such a fighter as my wife. I wish she would take the easy way out. Though I admit, nothing about this would be easy, whether she decides to continue the pregnancy or not. Part of the reason I didn’t want to look at the ultrasound, didn’t want to view that clump of cells as anything other than something slowly killing my old lady.
“You still have time to think about what you want to do. But for now, we need to take care of you, Allie. I’m going to admit you. You are badly dehydrated, so you’ll be given fluids intravenously.”
Allie’s eyes flick to me in horror.
I won’t be taking my old lady home? But I don’t let my own worry show. Something needs to be done, and I’m filled with relief that this doctor recognises it. “It’s the best thing for you, Allie.”
“It is,” the doctor confirms. “We’ll try various anti-nausea remedies as well. See if we can make you more comfortable.”
“For how long?”
“That’s difficult to say, Allie. But you’ll be in the right place. If you’re continuing this pregnancy, it’s what you’ve got to do for both your health, and the baby’s.”
The doctor makes a call and finds a bed for Allie at the hospital next door. I can see her fighting tears as I walk her over. There’s an easy way out, I want to tell her. Just stop this now. But she won’t. As if she can read the thoughts in my head, her mouth fixes into a stubborn line.
She’s checked in, then settled. She might not like the idea, but she’s so weak, she doesn’t make much protest and soon she’s in be
d wearing a hospital gown, and a promise from me that I’ll get one of the women to buy her some proper nightwear. She’s got none of her own, she’s never bothered to wear it.
I’m chased from the room while they put in a line, and return to the doctor’s office in the adjacent building on the off chance that Doctor Cassidy is free to talk to me.
“I thought you’d have questions,” she says, as her receptionist shows me in. “I had a patient cancel so I have some time.”
“She wants to keep the baby,” I start with a frown. “But won’t her condition harm its chances?”
“The baby could be born underweight or premature, but we’ll be monitoring him or her very carefully.”
“What about Allie? I’ve served, Doctor Cassidy. I’ve seen people die from starvation. I can see the signs with Allie. I can’t lose my wife.
“I understand that, which is why I’m keeping her in the hospital for now.”
“I’m worried about organ failure.”
“Again, we’ll be running tests and making sure everything’s functioning.” She draws in air, then breathes it out slowly. “At the end of the day, it’s her decision and we’ll support whatever she decides. It’s true, ten percent of people with this condition have a termination, but others are determined to continue.”
She waves me to a seat.
“Does it happen to many women? I’ve never heard of it before.”
“Morning sickness varies from person to person, and pregnancy to pregnancy. This isn’t morning sickness per se, but something more serious. It affects about one in a thousand people, but Allie’s case is certainly among the worst ones I’ve seen. Tell me, she says she doesn’t know her family history. Why is that?”
“She never got on with her mom. Was thrown out of her home when she was sixteen. Would it be helpful to know more about her past?”
“It would be interesting. The condition does seem to run in families, and particularly if the baby is a girl.”
“You’re saying it’s likely we could be having a daughter?” I frown. The thought of a little girl looking like Allie flits across my mind. I suppress the burst of elation as I wouldn’t want her if it meant risking the health of my wife.
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