Page 35 of Rami

“Are you going to tell him about the money?”

Gigi widened her eyes. “Of course. I have nothing to hide. It was just easier not discussing it. I should have told him sooner. I was just... in a trance almost. A shell of myself.” Her voice grew small and then she straightened her shoulders. “That’s all over with now. Are you okay with going to the doctor tomorrow?”

Ivy sighed. Surely a hospital visit would only bring more exhaustion and put her on an emotional roller coaster. But she knew she needed to have some blood work done at the very least.

“Yeah.” Ivy took a sip of her tea wishing the whole nightmare could just be over. Soon she’d adjust to normalcy, but right now she felt as though she were pushing through a life-sized spider web. “I kind of have to.” She unfolded her arm, revealing the track marks she’d kept hidden beneath a long-sleeved shirt all day.

Gigi’s breath hitched, and she brought her fingers to her lips. “Oh god,” she moaned.

With that, Ivy spilled everything—from the moment in the parking lot to the moment she’d swung a nail at Rami’s face and every sordid, bleak memory in between.

Telling the story now was a little easier. Almost as if it’d happened to someone else. She was becoming detached from that person, that part of herself who’d been violated and broken. Maybe it was a survival mechanism. Maybe her mind was adapting to help her integrate back into the life she’d once had.

Gigi sobbed, holding Ivy’s numb shoulders in her hands. “I’m so glad you’re back. Everything’s going to be okay. I know you’re worried about the needles, but just keep the faith. You’re strong and all this will be behind you. Have you considered therapy?”

Ivy winced. “I guess, yeah. But not yet. I just feel like... it’s too fresh. I want to process it on my own before I have to unpack it for someone else.”

Gigi bit her lip, clearly not in agreement. “Okay, whatever you think. I mean, don’t worry about anything financial. Please. Just focus on you.”

Ivy took her sister’s hand. “Thank you.”

***

The cool plastic was hard beneath her. Ivy tried to slow her heart rate, but it was no use. Doctors’ offices had always made her blood pressure jump, and today it was even worse. Three days ago, she’d had blood drawn.

Today, she’d find out the results.

Gigi sat next to her with her hand wrapped around Ivy’s.

Please, God, if you can keep me free of disease, I promise I’ll be forever grateful.

Dr. Jenkins walked in with a warm smile on her middle-aged face. Her blond hair was cut in a stylish bob, and her glasses didn’t hide her friendly gaze. Ivy appreciated that the doctor, unlike the police, wasn’t looking at her with sympathy and doubt.

Dr. Jenkins’s pleasantries went over Ivy’s head. She had no idea if she responded to the simple questions. Her leg hammered up and down, bouncing on the spot, while the doctor clicked on her computer to open Ivy’s file. “Well, dear. I’m glad you could come in today. You’re dangerously low in a lot of vital nutrients: iron, B12...I know you were malnourished when you came in, so I expect that’s improved a bit—”

“And the other stuff?” Ivy cut in. “Did, um, anything show? I’m concerned about the needles that were used and what they gave me.”

The doctor nodded. “Of course. You tested negative for HIV, hepatitis, syphilis...”

Ivy tuned out the rest of the doctor’s words, and sagged with relief. She brought a hand to her chest as tears leaked from her eyes. Her leg stopped bouncing.

Negative.

Thank you, Jesus.

“Results showed Rohypnol in your system. Which fits with your recollection of being unconscious for hours at a time. It’s possible other drugs were used, and that they left your body by the time you came in.” The last part of the sentence held a note of admonishment.

The vise around her chest released its grip, and she sucked in a breath of air. She’d truly been given a second chance. Since the prick of the first injection, Ivy had felt as if she were carrying a dirty cloak around her shoulders. No matter how many showers she took in a day, no matter how hard she scrubbed her skin or how many prayers and affirmations she said, the filthy film kept coating her skin like a layer of rubber.

Now it was gone.

“Okay. Thank you.”

But Dr. Jenkins’s smile now carried a pound of pity. “Physically, you’re going to be fine. I’d like you to reach out to some therapists, maybe a nutritionist, but honey, you’re very lucky.”

Gigi wrapped her arms around Ivy’s neck. “See? I told you!” She squeezed until Ivy let out a squeaky laugh.

The doctor gave her some names of specialists she recommended, and then she was gone.

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