38. Jess
Jess:
Connor had another migraine, we’re at the ER. They’ve got him on an IV for fluids and gave him some kind of medication, I don’t remember the name. He seems to be doing a little better now.
Chris:
What do they think is going on??
Jess:
Not sure, still waiting on the doctor.
Chris:
I can be there in 15, let me know if anything changes.
Jess:
Okay. You’re the only one I’ve told, I didn’t want to say anything to your dad yet.
Chris:
Thank you. On my way.
“Thank you,” I weakly smile at the friendly nurse who’s administering some more medication—I think she said it’s anti-nausea—into Connor’s IV. I’m sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to his bed, still holding his hand. I haven’t let go of it since we got in the car, save for helping him fill out the triage forms and folding his clothes while he changed into the gown.
She offers a warm smile back. “The doctor will be in shortly, please let me know if you need anything.”
I’d never been so scared in my life. Things had pivoted so quickly I didn’t even understand what was happening at first. What would have happened if I hadn’t been there and he’d been alone? Or was our argument what caused it to begin with?
I look over at him, laying in the narrow bed wearing a hospital gown with random tubes and cords everywhere. His hair is disheveled and his stare is unreadable.
“Hey,” I squeeze his hand gently and he turns his head towards me. “Is there anything I can get you? Are you hungry or thirsty?”
He just pinches his lips together and shakes his head.
He hasn’t spoken a word to me since the apartment. In fact, until he answered the admission desk’s questions, I’d been panicking that he’d lost his ability to speak altogether. But it’s just me he’s not talking to.
This is not about you. Not everything is about someone being mad at you. He’s got to be freaking out right now, just be there for him. Get yourself grounded so you can be what he needs.
Okay, yeah, that’s a good idea. Give my brain something to do besides spiral.
Things I can see…Connor’s blank stare. Ugh, okay, let’s skip that one for now…
Things I can hear…the IV machine beeps every once a while. The muffled sounds of staff and patients walking around on the other side of the curtain.
Things I can smell…thankfully just all the hand sanitizer.
Things I can feel…Connor’s hand. This stupid chair—seriously, is it made out of push pins?
I shift in my seat and clutch his hand again, more for my reassurance than for his. I’m about to ask if he wants me to get him another pillow so I can break the silence, but he speaks instead.
“I think you were right,” he says.
“Hey, I like the sound of that,” I nervously chuckle.
He doesn’t laugh.
“This was never going to work.” His tone is impersonal, and he pulls his hand away. The symbolism isn’t lost on me, and my heart beats through my chest.
“What? What are you talking about? I never said that.”
“We’re just too different.”
“Okay, look, we definitely need to talk about some things, but it’ll be all right. Let’s just…let’s just get you better and out of here and we can worry about that later, okay? I’m here, Chris is on his way, we’ll take this all one step at a time.”
“Jess, if you think I’m anything like your ex-husband, then there’s nothing else to talk about.”
I close my eyes and rub my face in my hands. “I didn’t mean for you to take it that way at all, I’m sorry. You’re nothing like Alex, please let’s just talk about this later when you’re?—”
“I can’t even get you to spend the night at my place,” he snaps. “I mean, Jesus Christ, I bought you some shampoo, and you thought I was trying to mind fuck you.”
He’s just scared to be here, don’t flip out.
“I apologized for that, I know you were trying to be thoughtful and I overreacted, I?—”
“Just stop, Jess. Stop apologizing, stop explaining, stop acting like this timid little mouse who’s afraid of everything.”
His face is no longer blank, that’s for sure. The ire is pretty clear. I have a million things I want to say in response, but I know none of them will be right, so I stay silent.
“Listen, this was a nice little experiment and all, but it’s just not sustainable. I have way too much to worry about without having to cater to all your anxieties.”
He might as well have slapped me across the face. My mouth is open, but I can’t speak.
Remember, he’s scared, okay? He’s lashing out because he doesn’t know how to?—
No.
No, it doesn’t matter if he’s scared. This is not okay.
His expression shifts again, this time to one of resignation. “Look, obviously we’re still going to see each other occasionally at family stuff and I don’t want it to be awkward. I do care about you, so let’s just keep things amicable, all right?” He offers his hand back to me but not to hold. He’s extending it for a shake. Like I’m one of his business deals. “Friends?”
I hate that my first inclination is to bury the hurt that’s spreading through my body and shake his hand in agreement. To just say, “fine,” and be compliant. Maybe that initial reaction will never go away, but at least now I have the choice to act on it or not.
Chris:
Okay, I just pulled into the parking lot, on my way in.
I look from my phone to Connor’s still outstretched hand. “No,” I say. I push the pin cushion chair back as I stand up and grab my coat and purse. “No, we are not friends.” I don’t know what he expected me to say, and his face isn’t giving anything away. He lowers his hand and I walk to the door, calling, “Chris is in the parking lot, he’ll be here in a minute,” over my shoulder as I leave.
Because I’m a coward, I hide in the ladies’ room for ten full minutes, hoping that gives Chris enough time to walk in and have someone direct him to where Connor is. I know if he sees me, he’ll ask what’s wrong, and I know if I have to answer, I’ll start crying.
Once I feel like the coast is clear, I make a beeline through the parking lot, keeping my head on a swivel just in case.
With shaky hands, I open my car door, plop in the driver’s seat, close the door, and take a deep breath. It’s only then that I finally let myself cry.