50. Gage #2
“Baby, I’m just glad I’ve got you now. I’m so sorry, I should have never put you in danger like this.” I’m a fucking fool to think everything was going to be smooth with a chance of weather and this bunch of douchebags. Now, she’s paying the price.
“We would have been fine except for that guy,” she answers, her voice shaky.
I stroke her wet hair. “I know, we shouldn't have taken the risk.”
She climbs up to the cockpit on wobbly legs, the women eyeing her with sad faces.
“We’re so sorry about everything,” they say in unison.
We don’t even acknowledge them. We’ve gone off course and the rigging is a mess. Charli huddles in the cockpit wrapped in a blanket.
Once we’re back on track and almost to port I make a call to Cap.
It’s the worst call I've ever had to make. He’s the only other person I’ve let in besides Charli.
I want him to be proud of me, to be the person who deserves her affection.
And today, I made the biggest mistake of my life.
I put her in harm’s way. I know better; I know what can happen in the open water and I fucking did it anyway.
The line is fuzzy with interference. “Cap, there was an accident, Charli went overboard and hurt her arm.”
“Christ,” he curses into the phone.
“We’re back on track and should be there in thirty minutes or so.”
“Just get in and we’ll meet you at the docks. Then we can go to the hospital with her. Is the boat okay?” he asks, his voice strained.
“Mostly,” I answer. The boat doesn't matter to me now. My only concern is Charli.
Fuck this boat.
Fuck my plans.
Fuck it all to hell.
It’s all about her now. I only needed a close call for me to finally see it.
I get the sails right and we make the last leg into the harbor as the wind picks up and the sky darkens.
Relief washes through me when we enter the channel to Seascape. Cap and Margaret are waiting at the pier, their raincoats zipped up in the weather and their faces grim. The wind is really starting to howl now, and I can’t believe how stupid I was to attempt that crossing.
A kid from the launch is there to close up the boat for me so we can get Charli to the hospital. The assholes from the charter depart unceremoniously with a dirty look from me. It’s a tense ride as I follow her grandparents in their truck.
She sits in the passenger seat, her head back and eyes closed, still wrapped in the blanket. She was able to change into dry clothes with some help, but she has a chill. The only sound is the rain hitting the cab of the truck and the windshield wipers slapping the water away.
In the emergency room, Margaret speaks to the secretary at the triage desk in a hushed voice as I sit with Charli in the hard plastic chairs of the waiting area.
Cap paces near his wife, glancing at us every few steps.
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead in the space.
It’s fairly empty except for a few other patients waiting.
A pair of elderly women sit a few seats down from us, one is knitting something as the other one dozes off.
Charli stares at a mother with a fussy baby who walks in circles around the row of chairs.
Muffled little cries echo in the space, a shudder going through Charli with each small outburst.
Twenty minutes later, Charli’s name is called.
We’re escorted into an exam room to wait a little while longer.
She lies motionless on the white exam paper covering the hospital bed.
A nurse comes in to take her vitals. I sit in another hard chair by her bedside.
A burst of cool air puffs out through the vent in the ceiling as he wheels his caddy into the room.
“Okay, that’s all set. So you think you broke your arm?”
“Yeah, I fell on his boat and went in too.”
“You were out in this weather?” he asks, shocked, giving me a dirty look.
“It was for work,” I add.
“So the doctor will be in soon to check you, but I need a few more bits of information first.”
“Okay,” Charli answers as she lies back on the mattress, the paper crinkling loudly.
“Could you be pregnant now?”
She doesn't say anything.
I freeze, and turn my eyes to her. She looks me straight in the face as the nurse stands there waiting for a reply.
“I’m late.”
He coughs, and clicks at his keyboard. “Okay we’ll do a pregnancy test, first, but since it’s just your arm, we can still do an x-ray with precautions.”
I gape at her, my heart ready to burst out of my chest. I grip the handles of the chair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn't realize until I was away,” she answers, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“So?” A lump forms in my throat, as pressure squeezes my ribcage.
She sniffs before saying anything else. “I didn’t even know if you were going to be around here.”
The nurse closes his device and slips out of the room.
I stand to sit with her on the bed, my feet like lead on the worn linoleum.
The rubber mattress squeaks under my weight as I scoot closer.
I take her hand in mine as she stares at the ceiling avoiding my gaze.
I need this to come out right. “Of course, I would be around if you're pregnant with our baby.”
She wipes a tear away. “That’s not how I want it.”
I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Sometimes it doesn't work that way.”
The nurse returns with a plastic cup. “Okay, Ms. O’Brien, please use the bathroom and fill this up.”
“Sure.”
Charli goes out of the room with the nurse and leaves me sitting there, contemplating my fucking life right now.
It’s a stab to the heart knowing that she kept this from me.
But I get it. I couldn't give her a yes when she asked me point blank to stay here.
Me and my fucking duty to that god damn boat.
The boat Bill is selling. The god damn boat that I could have lost her on. Her and our baby.
I hang my head between my knees and pinch the bridge of my nose. My head throbs and my stomach is rolling. I know she’s probably feeling ten times worse right now though.
She pulls back the curtain and flops back onto the bed. I scoot to her side wanting to hold her.
“How late are you?” I ask, afraid of her answer.
She closes her eyes. “Ten days.”
“Ten days?” I whisper.
I get up to pace the small room, brushing by the little curtain that separates her from the next patient.
Minutes later a woman enters in a white coat, wearing a tight smile. “I’m Dr. Mulligan. So your pregnancy test is negative now. But it doesn't rule out conception yet. Test again if you don’t start your period next seven days.”
Charli nods stiffly.
“We can still x-ray your arm. Let me do a quick exam first before I have a tech come back to bring you down.”
She looks Charli over as we wait in silence. The doctor moves to the table to add more information to Charli’s file. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
I return to her side and tip her chin to me. “Hey, baby, if we have a problem it’s ours together.”
She blinks at me through watery eyes. “Last night you finally agreed to stay together long-distance. How was I supposed to feel before?”
“I didn’t say that I didn’t want to be with you.”
How did I fuck this up so badly? Everything was okay this morning, well not okay, but not this.
She turns to her side away from me and hangs her head. I know she’s crying. I walk to her bedside and drop to my knees in front of her, holding her waist. “Look at me. All those times we didn’t use anything after the condom broke, it was both of us, not just you.”
She looks me straight in the eyes, hers are red rimmed and puffy, but still beautiful. “I’m on birth control, it’s supposed to be effective. I don’t want to be like my mom and make you do this if it’s not what you want.”
“Nothing changes the way I feel about you. I love you.”
“But I’ll still be on my own while you’re working.”
A tech pulls back the curtain. “Okay, we can take you to x-ray Ms. O'Brien,” she says in a cheery tone.
“Just stay here please,” Charli croaks.
“Yeah, okay.” I sit in silence, my mind racing with thoughts. I’m numb, what if I lost her today and possibly our baby? A baby I didn't even know about. What would be the point of going on, alone?
It’d be so much worse than losing my dad. I grip my knees feeling lightheaded. What would he tell me to do right now? He would tell me to do anything I could to be with her. But, what if I'm not enough?
I stay on her hospital bed frozen in a cloud of fear. Voices carry on around me behind the curtain in the sterile space. The clang of medical instruments, the beep of equipment. I’m lucky she only hurt her arm.
She and the tech return. She frowns at me, cradling her arm. “It’s broken.”
“What do we do next?” I ask expectantly.
“I think you should go back . . . to the boat. I’ll have my grandparents take me home.”
“What do you mean?” my voice shakes. Shit. She’s shutting down like she did with her mother. But this time she’s shutting me out. I can’t let that happen.
Tears stream down her beautiful face slowly. “This is a lot to process.”