Chapter 16
16
The room is very dark when Polly leaves.
There are small windows up close to the ceiling, but all of them are obscured by several feet of snow. I shine the beam of the flashlight Polly gave me at the white powder pressed against the solid glass, wondering if those windows even open. When the beam of light reaches the corner of the room, it reflects the web of a spider that is apparently sharing this room with me.
Lovely.
I don’t like this basement and its antiseptic smell, which tickles my nose. The room is only partially finished, which means that while the floor has been paved, the walls are still naked brick. It makes me feel like I am being kept in a dungeon.
My left ankle throbs painfully, and I close my eyes, breathing through the pain. The boot is starting to feel uncomfortably tight, but I’m terrified of taking it off. Not just because it’s going to be unimaginably painful but because I’m scared of what my foot looks like under there. Considering how much it hurts, I’m terrified we’ll find a bone poking out through my skin.
Of course, if it is, it’s better to take the boot off and let Polly try to clean it up and disinfect it, but I can’t bear to do it. Anyway, I’ll be at the hospital by tomorrow morning.
I’m itching for my phone. These days, I’m never without it for very long. I’m sure there are about a hundred missed calls from Dennis—he plays the part of a laid-back ski instructor, but he can be an anxious mama hen at times. Why did I take that extra shift at the grocery store? If I hadn’t, I’d be sitting at his apartment right now, drinking a glass of… Well, not wine, obviously. Maybe some hot cocoa.
I wonder if Jackson tried to call me again. Not that I have any desire to hear from him.
I had thought I’d left my phone behind in the car by accident, but I’m not so sure anymore. I always keep that pepper spray in my purse, and the fact that it’s gone means someone took it out. When Polly was down here talking to me, Hank must have gone through my purse and removed both my phone and my pepper spray. I don’t know why he did it, but there’s no good reason he would have robbed me of both a means of communicating and defending myself.
Although I can’t hear what’s going on upstairs, I can make out the thump of footfalls above my head. Every time Hank’s heavy boots stomp on the floor, my body jolts.
The door to the basement finally cracks open, and footsteps descend the stairs moments before Polly comes into sight. I can just barely make her out in the candlelight, which makes her face seem even more drawn and tired.
“I have your pills,” she tells me.
I feel a stab of guilt. Little Tuna and I are connected by our bloodstream, and anything I take, she’ll get a dose of too. There is a small list of medications that are safe to take during pregnancy, and I’m sure whatever Polly has in her hand is not on that list.
But for God’s sake, my ankle might be broken. I’m only human.
“What did you bring me?” I ask.
“It’s Dilaudid.”
Dilaudid. I don’t entirely know what that is, but it sounds powerful. I imagine the horrible sharp pain in my ankle subsiding to a dull ache. A dull ache sounds like heaven right now. I only question for a moment why this couple has powerful pain pills stocked in their medicine cabinet.
“I’ll get you some water,” Polly says.
She goes to the bathroom with my water glass, her braid swinging behind her head. She emerges with half a glass of water and two little white tablets in the palm of her right hand. Her sleeve is rolled up just enough so that I can see the ugly maroon bruise peeking out.
“Thank you so much,” I say as I snatch the pills from her hand. “I really appreciate it.”
“Of course. You’re clearly in a lot of pain, and you…you shouldn’t have to suffer.”
I had been about to pop the two pills into my mouth, but something stops me. Yes, I’m in pain. But Tuna isn’t in pain. Tuna is counting on me not to put anything in my body that could hurt her, and here I am, popping pain pills like candy.
“What’s wrong?” Polly asks. “Don’t you want them?”
I do. God, I do. If it were just me, I would be swallowing them down and begging for more. I’m that desperate for relief. But it’s not just me anymore. I have to protect my child. It’s bad enough that being drugged is what landed me in this situation to begin with. How could I even contemplate putting something in my body that will alter my mental state? I need to stay sharp—for both of us.
“You know what?” I say. “I think you’re right. I’m not going to take this. It’s not good for the baby.”
“You’re not? I thought you were in pain.” She seems surprised.
“Yes, but…” I squeeze the wool blanket on top of me, my fingers biting into the fabric. “I can handle it. I’ll be all right.”
She looks at me for a long moment without saying anything. Finally, she nods in approval. “Okay. You can keep them in case you change your mind again.”
“I won’t,” I say as I drop the pills onto the dresser next to the bed.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asks.
Her tone is so gentle. I can just barely make out the freckles across the bridge of her nose. Once again, I cringe at the thought of that ogre upstairs grabbing her by the wrist hard enough to create those dark bruises. I hated the way he shouted at her loud enough for me to hear through the ceiling. Like me, Polly is the victim of a terrible man. I feel a sudden surge of kinship with this woman.
We have both been through something terrible. And for both of us, it is far from over.
“Actually,” I say, “you haven’t seen my phone, have you?”
She looks at me blankly. “Your phone?”
“My cell phone,” I clarify. “It was in my purse, but I didn’t see it when I looked through it.”
“Oh.” She tilts her head to the side. “Maybe it fell out in your car?”
“Maybe…”
Or maybe her husband went through my purse and took it. Right around the time he took my pepper spray.
“I could look for it,” she offers. “I’ll see if it fell out in Hank’s truck.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I hesitate, wanting to share something with her that isn’t a lie about my fake husband. “By the way, I think what you do is amazing. I’d been saving up for nursing school.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh?”
“Yes. I’ve wanted to be a nurse ever since I was a little girl, when I got the chicken pox and I was sick for weeks,” I say, knowing full well that a lot of people look at me and still see a young girl. “Some kids want dolls to pretend they’re babies, but I pretended my dolls were my patients, and I would nurse them back to health.”
She laughs. “I can relate.”
“I still want to do it, but…” I rest a hand gingerly on my abdomen. “It might take longer than expected.”
That’s an understatement. I can’t imagine a time in the future that I’ll be able to go to nursing school. Even before I totaled my car, it was a pipe dream. And now…
“It’s hard to go through school when you have a baby,” Polly acknowledges.
I drop my eyes. “Like I said, this wasn’t in the plan. Unfortunately, babies happen.” You can’t always stop them, even if you’re given half a chance, which I wasn’t.
“Yes,” she says softly. “I understand.”
I can’t help but wonder what trapped Polly in this marriage. She said she didn’t have children, so it couldn’t be that. But Hank must have some sort of hold on her. There must be a reason she stays, in spite of his abuse.
There’s always a reason.