Chapter 42
Amelia
“Level two trauma now, level two trauma now,” the overhead speaker announced as I stuffed the last bite of banana in my mouth.
Fight night had arrived and my mind tried to treat it like a normal day instead of a life-altering type where one wrong move could mean game over.
The queasy stomach didn’t help either, that’s what happens when you fucking nervous and you just hope that the man that you love comes back in one piece.
The plan was simple. I do half a shift, off by late afternoon.
Go back to the house and finish packing for an extended vacation that he made through some connection in eastern Virginia.
He said he’d tell me more after but to make sure I had a swimsuit, a lot of sunscreen, and some of our favorite “accessories”.
Funny that he didn’t mention any specific type of clothes or anything.
Chris had stayed away a lot longer than I’d anticipated. For me, I didn’t care. But at the pit of my stomach I worried it would be a matter of time. Maybe it was just my paranoia.
“Why is it always over a holiday weekend that the most traumas come in here?” I groaned. It was a rhetorical question but nonetheless a time old question.
“Because people tend to lose their senses or their brain cells and become reckless. Or the stress of their mind becomes one with their illnesses that the body becomes fight or flight mode,” Sarah muttered from behind the nursing station.
“Plus shouldn’t you be getting ready for a fight?” Jennie asked as she looked at the board of all the rooms.
I rolled my eyes. “I have four hours left in my shift. I need the distraction. Between my stomach being in knots and my head always fixating on tonight, I need something to do. I think the stress is making me cramp. I don’t know.”
“He’s going to be fine,” Jennie grumbled, rolling her shoulders back, cracking her neck, then moved her attention to me. “You on the other hand, I don’t know if you need a banana bag or to be freshly fucked. You look like death and not in the most attractive way.”
Listen, I never said my friends were the nicest, but sometimes you get hit by the brutally honest truth and that's what you needed.
“Maybe both.” I shrugged.
“Ladies, incoming trauma, and just heard from the paramedics, patient’s getting worst, let’s get moving.” Dr. Andres popped out of nowhere, barking orders.
When she was on the move, so were you. The blaring sounds and the bright lights of the ambulance came rushing to the bay. Part of the team rushed to meet with the medics, grabbing the patient as they rattled off their assessment.
They came rushing through the doors, and the patient that looked to be in his older age had bright red liquid at the corner of his mouth. Orders came through as a second ambulance was pulling up with another one.
They kept explaining that it was a motor vehicle accident and that one of the drivers didn’t appear to have issues until he had hurled over blood during the transport, and the other driver may have suffered some broken bones and was being rushed to be further assessed.
The first driver started flailing around as he bent over the railing and started to vomit more blood. I’d bet his internal injuries were causing it, Dr. Andres liked to consider them the silent killers.
But something was off, not with the patients but with myself.
I stood there frozen, sounds around started to muffle like I was paralyzed.
The sight of the bright red substance spun my insides.
This was ridiculous, I was a damn nurse, the sight of blood or bodily fluids never bothered me, not like when I was a student. I had an iron stomach.
And yet one look at the blood, and I could feel my body reject the sight and made my stomach curdle.
For the first time, I abandoned my post and sprinted to the nearest bathroom.
Seconds blurred as the door squealed and my knees hit the cold tile.
I didn’t fuss with the lock on the stall as I bent over and hurled my guts out.
Everything had boiled on the inside, my body trembled. I don’t remember crying but somehow I cried, hot tears streaming down my face.
I shivered like my body was failing me or I was failing it.
It felt like it never stopped, like if I kept going I’d never leave the damn bathroom.
I tried to catch my breath. What the fuck was wrong with me?
When the nausea subsided, my body sunk on the wall of the stall.
I tried to push past the thought that I was in a bathroom and may or may not have been cleaned and my ass was sitting on the floor trying to catch my breath.
I was going to hear it from Dr. Andres or my charge about this, I was never like this. I just needed to make it for the next four hours.
That’s all. And then I would be with him, and we would get through the night.
If I wasn’t able to handle the sight of blood at work, how the hell did I think I would survive the night? I couldn’t call Shooter after that, he would have worried the entire time and then he would be off the entire night. He needed a clear head.
I needed to pull myself together and get over this shit. Maybe a dose of Zofran would work. I rested my head on my knees, trying to focus on my breathing. That’s when I heard the door open again, small footsteps carefully approaching me.
“Hey there, darling girl, you okay?” Jennie’s melodic, and yet sarcastic voice rang.
I peered up. “What do you think?”
She crouched down at my level, and pulled something from behind her back. “I think you need to pee in this cup.” Her palm revealed a sample cup waved in my face.
“I’m not on drugs. Jesus, I know I have been off lately, but I’m not doing anything.” I got defensive. My stomach tightened again as a wave of nausea started to bubble up.
Jennie laughed. “No, dumbass. I don’t think you’ve been doing any recreational drugs or something. But you have been doing someone,” she teased.
It took me a minute to realize what she was saying. I laughed dryly, “You’re off your rocker. I’m on birth control.”
I was still using my patches. Right?
“Have you?” she asked, waving the cup again.
All color drained my face. I patted to my lower abdomen, the typical place where I used it. My fingers skimmed under my scrub top. My fingers ghosted over my skin, my bare skin. No edges or smooth surface of the patch that I swear I was religiously doing.
“Now she’s connecting the dots,” Jennie teased again.
I shook my head. It was all talk right. It was one thing that Shooter always wanted to fill me, talks of one day watching my belly grow with a child.
“That bastard.” I hissed out.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she snapped. “When was the last time you picked them up or asked for a refill order?”
Oh fucking hell. No, it couldn’t be happening. I was so damn sure.
“When was your last period, Mia?” she asked.
Like a dam bursting, tears flowed down my cheeks. I couldn’t remember. I had been so diligent, preventing the fear of doing it again, of repeating history and have my heart broken all over again. Would I be strong enough?
“Come on, baby girl, I’m going to need you to buck up and do this if not for me, for your future.” Jennie rested her hand on my shoulder. I slowly nodded. The wave of emotions spilled over me, a million thoughts spiraled, all the “what ifs”.
I knew it took two to make a bundle of joy, I thought all those days and nights spent with Shooter were playing a fantasy.
Time ticked by and my mind imagined a little one that was a perfect blend of both of us, Shooter smiling every day, loving on both of us.
That was what I had dreamed of from the start.
“I’ll make those dreams come true one day,” he had said. Instinctively, my hand grazed over my stomach. I guess playing Russian roulette with my birth control and Shooter’s endless need to fuck me or love me on every surface he could was about to turn our life upside down.
I remember the last time, being so excited for this, only to be shattered through hopelessness and pleading that it wasn’t true.
I wasn’t ready to go through that again, I couldn’t.
Though even in the darkest times, hope survived after all that time.
It would live on through love and a new beginning.
Jennie held my hand, waiting with me, screaming at anyone that tried to come through the restroom. The timer had beeped, and suddenly my heart raced.
She looked at me. “You ready?”
“Not really, but I can’t wait forever, right?” Tears started to well up.
She walked me over to the counter where the test laid, waiting to be read.
I wasn’t mad at Shooter or myself. Fate had a different pathway for us, a timeline that may be pushed. I gripped Jennie’s hand tight enough that I thought I was cutting off her circulation.
When we peered over the counter, the answer was in front of us.
Pregnant.
I was pregnant.
Tears dripped down my cheeks. A rush of happiness knowing that it was Shooter and my child growing inside of me. It was a gateway to a new start, a lead into our future.
A creak of the door swinging open caught our attention and before Jennie could yell at the person, she quickly shut up and a soft smile appeared.
“I was starting to worry about you, my girl,” Dr. Andres' light voice said. Her eyes trailed to the counter and darted back to me. A gentle smile spread across her face. “Let’s get you to a room.”
I shook my head. “I can’t be admitted, I have somewhere that I need to be.”
Dr. Andres chuckled. “Well, it’s a good thing I wasn’t going to, but I know you want to know.” She opened the door wider waiting for Jennie and I to walk out. My little family, coming to be there for me when I needed them the most.
Jennie called out to Sarah as we got back to an empty room. Sarah bolted through the door, closing it, giving us some privacy.
“You don’t have to do this, Dr. Andres.” I didn’t want to pull her into this mess. My life was starting to clear up and enough people were already entangled.
“Didn’t say I had to, but we take care of our own.” She patted my hand as we got into the room. “You think that no one was watching you, but” she started wagging her finger, “I know a silent survivor when I see one.”
My face dropped. I knew what she was saying, but I worried that my past would be what people thought of me; weak. I was at a loss for words. We should never go through life not knowing that we have people in our corner, ready to be there when you need them.
“Why do you think I scared your boyfriend that day?” She patted the exam bed, “I needed to know that he was worthy of you, of taking care of the one person whose hearts bleeds so much.”
All I could say was, “Thank you.”
They always said that family was who you make of it, but I thought it was just something you said to empathize with someone. Guess I was wrong.
With Sarah and Jennie, side by side by me, taking my hand in theirs. I laid on the bed, waiting for the sign that I needed to tell me it was going to be okay, that this was a good thing, that history wouldn’t repeat itself. I waited to see if I had the chance again.
The subtle whooshing sound brought the tears back and the joy back into a lost smile. A moment I thought I would never have again. But even through all the rainstorms, there’s always a rainbow spreading hope.
I turned to the monitor and was welcomed to the sound of a brighter future.
“Congratulations, my girl.” Dr. Andres said. “Look what love made for you.”
It made me a mother with a healed heart.