44. Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Four
“It’s important for the expectant mother to be aware and mindful of her health, as a minor ailment can easily become more serious when carrying a child.”
A Young Woman’s Guide to the Joy of Impending Motherhood
Dr. Francine Pascal Reid (1941)
I t took a few minutes to realize where I was when I finally woke up. In fact, I honestly didn’t know and did the whole “Where am I?” mumble.
″The hospital,” J.B. said from the chair at the side of my bed. “We brought you to the hospital. You kept throwing up, and then you passed out. How are you feeling?” He took my hand.
I wet my lips. “Thirsty.”
J.B. found a glass of water somewhere in the room and handed it to me, first positioning the bendy straw for me. “Just take sips,” he instructed. “I don’t want you to throw up again.”
After I took four tiny sips, he took the glass away from me. I leaned back on the pillow and closed my eyes, feeling J.B.’s warm hand on my clammy forehead, smoothing away my hair.
″You’re so pale,” he said.
″How long have I been here?” I managed to ask with some effort. I still felt horrible. Then an even more terrible thought: “Babies?” I gasped.
″They’re fine,” J.B. soothed. “They put you on some sort of monitor, and everything’s fine. So don’t worry. It’s almost six now,” he continued as he checked his watch. “I think it was about four thirty when you got home. You came to in the car on the way here, but you were still pretty out of it, and then you passed out again when we got here. I’ve never seen Em drive so fast,” he laughed. “It was fucking scary!”
That got a weak smile. “What’s wrong with me?”
″Why don’t you tell me?” he countered back. “The doctor checked you and the babies out, but you weren’t exactly helpful, just lying there.”
″Sorry,” I said.
J.B. leaned over and pressed his lips on my forehead. “You scared me,” he muttered almost inaudibly. “Don’t do that again.”
I scrabbled on the covers for his hand, and clutched it. I could feel my eyes closing. “I don’t want to miss our date,” I moaned. Then I fell asleep.
When I woke up again, J.B. was still there. It turned out I was suffering from extreme dehydration. Like the time on Survivor, when those guys kept throwing up and you saw their eyes rolling back in their head. Like that. That was me. The doctor read me the riot act, and to piss me off, decided I needed to stay overnight for observation. Apparently, all of the throwing up I’d been doing had made me severely dehydrated. He gave me strict orders to take the pills the doctor prescribed, no matter how tired and bitchy I became. And he used the word bitchy, too. I promised Dr. Bode I’d start taking them again. I much preferred this guy to Dr. Morrissey. He thought my pelvis was just fine! Plus, he was young and not bad-looking, which was weird thinking about when he was giving you an internal exam.
The only time J.B. left me was when he went and told the nurse I was awake, and once to go to the bathroom. But he made sure Libby was with me then. Cooper called her as soon as they got me into the hospital, and she came right over. It took a couple of hours until I was feeling human again. I had an IV (I was so grateful I was unconscious when they stuck that in me!) pumping some stuff in me, and the nurses kept sticking their heads in and telling me to take little sips of my juice. That was all they’d let me have.
It was after eight by J.B.’s watch by the time I noticed Coop and Emma were getting antsy. Luckily, I’d been put into a private room, but with four people, plus me and the bed, it was getting quite crowded. I was impressed Coop had managed to last this long—ever since his sister had cancer, he’s avoided hospitals like the plague. I was telling them it was all right to go home when the faint sounds of a cell phone interrupted .
″No cell phones in here,” J.B. said irritably, looking from Cooper to Emma to Libby.
″It’s not mine,” Emma retorted, checking her purse.
″I think it’s mine,” I told them. I recognized the ringtone. “Did you bring my bag with you?”
Cooper pulled it out from under the bed and handed me the phone. I answered without checking who it was.
″Where the hell are you?” Brit screamed over the phone. She didn’t really scream scream, but it was pretty loud. But before I could tell her what had happened, I was blindsided by a tirade.
“I’m sitting here in the bar you wanted to go to by myself! Morgan is late, and neither of you has the consideration to call and tell me. Instead, you probably love the idea of me sitting here all by myself. I thought you were a better friend than to—”
She was yelling so loud that J.B. had no trouble hearing the entire conversation from his seat by my bed. He plucked the phone from my hand before I’d had a chance to get a word in edgewise.
“Shut your mouth, Britney!” he yelled into the phone. “If you’d shut up for a goddamn minute, Casey could tell you the reason she isn’t there listening to you moan about your pathetic excuse for a marriage is that she’s in the hospital!”
Silence on the other end. Or maybe she was speaking quietly now. But no. “OhmyGod!” I heard her cry. “What’s wrong? Was it an accident? Are the babies okay? Is Casey all right? What happened?”
″She’s at Women’s College, room 415. Come and see for yourself. And if you start to bitch about anything, I myself will throw you out on your bony ass, so make sure you behave yourself!” With that, he clapped my phone shut. Cooper actually applauded.
″Good for you!” he cheered. “I’ve wanted to do that forever to her.”
″Felt pretty good,” J.B. grinned. “Sorry, her being your friend and all.”
I couldn’t say anything since there have been many a time I’ve wanted to do the same thing.
″She used to be such a nice girl,” Libby mused. “When she was in high school, remember the metal she used to have in her mouth, Case? Horrible. I wonder if there’s any correlation to her becoming gorgeous and a bitch at the same time.”
″She’s not a bitch.” I felt the need to defend Brit against such adversity. “She’s just… ”
″Spoiled?”
″Shallow?”
″Selfish?”
″A cow?”
″She’s not a cow,” I said weakly.
″Yes, she is,” Libby said, straightening my blanket. “I think she’d be very difficult to live with. Very high-maintenance. I’m sure poor Tom is finding that out now.”
I didn’t say anything because things weren’t going well with Brit and Tom, but now wasn’t really the time to get into it. Turns out Brit has a serious case of post-wedding blues, which is compounded by a schoolgirl crush she has on Tom’s boss, so long story short, marriage wasn’t turning out to be all she imagined it would be. I think she had more fun planning the wedding than actually being the wife.
Brit made it to the hospital in record time. She oohed and aahed about my situation, but I could tell she was miffed at the lack of enthusiasm her rush to the hospital generated. Coop was dead-on about the selfishness. But Brit’s minute in the spotlight was cut short by yet another visitor.
″Mom,” I said weakly, shooting a how-did-she-know glance at Libby. Libby’s apologetic shrug told me she called her.
″Sweetface!” Terri cried as she rushed to the side of my bed that J.B. gave up for her. “I knew something was up as soon as I saw you this morning. I hope the news of the wedding didn’t upset you?”
″I’m dehydrated, Mom,” I told her dryly. “I need water. That’s it.”
″You need to take care of yourself,” she chided, full of motherly concern for the first time in years. “You have to take care of my precious grandbabies in there.” She rested her hand, with its inch-long pink nails, on my stomach. Luckily, Libby had adjusted the blanket, or I’d be worried about her talons poking right through me into my uterus.
″You take care of those babies. Triplets,” Terri breathed, her other hand against her chest. “Oh, Casey, what a gift. You’ll have three beautiful children. And you won’t need to have anymore.” J.B. turned a guffaw of laughter into a cough, which brought Terri’s attention to him. “Oooh,” she said skittishly. “You’re D. J., aren’t you? The daddy-to-be?”
″J.B.,” he corrected. “And yes, I am.”
Terri jumped up and engulfed him in her perfumed embrace. “Well, how sweet you’re here with my baby,” she told him, kissing him full on the lips before he could escape. “I feel like we’re already family.” She turned back to me. “What a hunk!” she said, sotto voce .
It might be possible to repair my relationship with my mother, but unfortunately, I couldn’t change who she was—the oldest flirt in the world. Well, maybe not the oldest, but a huge flirt nonetheless. And the oldest in the room.
After ten minutes of incessant chatter from my mother, my head was pounding, and I felt like throwing everyone out. Everyone except for J.B., that is. I loved how he was handling my mother, deflecting her questions and attempts at groping with his usual charm. Even with Eric in the room, my mother couldn’t keep her hands off a good-looking man. Eric obviously turned a blind eye. After his sincere, “Are you sure you’re all right? Is there anything I can get for you?,” Eric stood at the back of the room, talking quietly to Cooper and Emma.
″I’m sure Casey told you all about our upcoming nuptials,” Terri said loudly, this time her left hand pressed to her chest so the engagement ring was visible. “We’re eloping to Vegas,” she giggled. “I doubt you’ll be coming now,” she told me mournfully.
″Vegas?” Libby asked skeptically. “When did you decide that?”
″Just on the weekend. I told Casey today, and she was going to convince you to come too.”
″You’re going to Vegas?” Libby turned blazing eyes on me.
″Not anymore she isn’t,” J.B. cut in. I’ve been in many relationships with men where they felt they could tell me what to do, but no one has done it with such affection and concern in his voice. “I think she should stick close to home until these little guys are born.”
I must have been still woozy, because I’m embarrassed to admit I was close to swooning at the look J.B. gave me. I could only shrug apologetically at my mother.
″Well, drat,” Terri said. She actually stamped her foot, not that a size five makes much of a stamp. “I wanted both my girls at this wedding. Since it will be my last,” she simpered, batting her lashes at Eric.
″That’s all right,” Eric agreed. His agreeableness and tolerance with my mother was beginning to grow on me. “We can either plan some sort of ceremony for the spring, or go down to city hall when Casey’s feeling better.”
″I want to get married now,” Terri pouted. “And not at city hall.”
″How about having it at our place?” I was gobsmacked to hear Cooper suggest that. Just gobsmacked. (Isn’t that a terrific word? I should use it more often.)
″What? Coop, you don’t—” I started to say .
″How lovely!” Terri clapped her hands together. “Oh, Cooper, what an absolute sweetheart you are! We accept!”
″No, you don’t. Coop, you don’t—” I tried again, but this time it was Cooper who cut me off.
″It’s fine, Casey,” he said gently. “We can have it the day after our Christmas party, on the 14, if you like. That way the place will be all decorated for the holidays.”
″That’s too generous of you, Coop,” Libby told him mutinously.
″It’s in the spirit of the holidays,” Cooper told her. Then, while my mother was congratulating herself with Eric, I heard Coop whisper to Libby, “Will you help me? Casey’s awful at organizing anything.”