Page 3 of Protecting Tiffani

“I sent them home. I wanted it to be just us seven,” Mom answers, pulling out of my embrace.

Emilee pulls her into the kitchen, and I finally have a chance to look around the place I called home for so long. Adam is nowhere to be seen, but I assume he’s with Carly and their son somewhere. By the sounds of it, Parker is in Emilee’s old room. They must be staying here since they live two hours away. Has she been here the whole time? My body automatically turns to the left, and I take in the room that has been Dad’s for my entire life. Two years ago, they had to remove the door to make room for the wheelchair he needed.

In the middle of the room is their bed. I guess they had to move it for whatever medical equipment he had in his final hours. It’s made up on the right side, but the left looks like someone just stepped out of it. He always slept on the left side. My chest squeezes with the knowledge that the indent I see was made from his body laying there. The house is eerily quiet, and I expect him to come through the door behind me any minute, but that will never happen again.

None of this feels real to me. I feel like I’m dreaming, but I can’t wake myself up. I drop my bag in the middle of the living room and head into the room I can’t pull my eyes from. The moment I enter, I smell him. He has worn the same cologne my whole life, Black Suede. I pick up the bottle that is sitting on the dresser and bring it to my nose. A sob tries to force itself out of me, but I hold it back. I spray a little on the underside of my shirt so I can smell him until I wash it. I make a mental note to buy a bottle so I always have him around me. Sitting the bottle down, I lower my hand and run it up his side of the bed, feeling the cold sheets under my fingers. The emotions raging in me make my body shake so violently that my knees give out and hit the hardwood floor below me.

I crawl to the top of the bed and grab one of his pillows. Bringing it to my face, I open my mouth and scream into it until my throat is raw. The tears I’ve been holding back break free as my chest heaves, and sobs wrack my whole body. “I’m so damn sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me the most. I’m just so fucking sorry. Please forgive me, Dad,” I repeat until my throat is dry and my knees ache.

“Levi, man, come on. He knew you loved him, and you know he loved you. He was so fucking proud of you.” Parker’s voice pulls me back from the brink of insanity. Standing up, I let him lead me in the direction of my childhood room. We pause in the living room so Mom and Emilee can kiss each of my cheeks. As I get settled on the twin bed, I stare up at the tile ceiling. With the lack of sleep and all the emotions my body has gone through, I should be exhausted, but I’m not.

Slowly the sadness is replaced with hot, pure rage. I’m pissed at myself for being weak and running all those years ago and for allowing my family to be proud of me for joining the marines. They thought it was a noble decision, but it was the coward’s way out. I let someone else control me, let someone else make my decisions for me. All because I was weak, but I’m not weak anymore. Gone is that scared eighteen-year-old boy, and in his place is a twenty-two-year-old Marine who isn’t afraid of anyone.

I know what I have to do. It’s time I stop running from my fucking problems. I have to man up and help my family through the days coming. Then it’s time to stop running from him. Because of him, I didn’t get to say goodbye to the one man who was always there for me, my hero, my dad.

Chapter two

Tiffani

Ihatethecolorwhite. That’s all I can think of as pain courses through my lower back. I shift around, trying to get comfortable.

“Ms. Summers, please hold still,” the nurse to my right sighs as this is the second time she has had to ask me.

“Sorry,” I mumble. I’m not sure who designed the beds that doctors use, but someone needs to make softer ones. Also, who thought it was a good idea to make us have our feet held up in the air and legs spread apart like this? It’s so fucking uncomfortable. The muscles in my legs scream for me to move my feet from the stirrups, but I fight against the cramps. The more I move, the greater the chance that the nurse will miss something, and this is too damn important for her to miss anything.

My ears strain, trying to listen for the sound that will ease my nerves. The fast thumping sound that will let me know everything is perfectly fine. That the bleeding means nothing. The nurse moves the wand further into me, making me wince. Something isn’t right. My last appointment didn’t take this long. My breathing is shallow as I try to hold off the panic bubbling right under the surface. I feel it low in my gut. The dread lays there, swirling around, waiting to hear the words that I know are about to be spoken. My life has been thrown into many tailspins over the last two months, but I’m afraid I won’t ever come back from this one. Please find it, I silently beg.

Another sigh falls from the right of me, but I don’t move my gaze from the yellow spot on the ceiling. A cold chill makes my exposed skin prickle with goosebumps, and a shiver races down my spine. The wand makes a squishing sound as it’s pulled from my body. My chest starts to shake, and my lower lip trembles as the tears fall. I close my eyes as the nurse’s soft voice whispers, “Ms. Summers, I’m going to step out so you can get dressed. The doctor will be in to talk to you.” The sound of the door closing sends me over the edge.

I throw my hand over my mouth, trying to quiet the noise coming from me as the sobs shake my whole body. It feels like my heart is being shattered into a million little pieces; like it was a pane of glass that someone dropped off the tallest building in the world. My legs slip from the stirrups and drop over the edge of the bed. The sheet covering my lower half slips off me, landing in a pile on the dirty floor. The doctor could walk in at any moment, and I’m laying here with my bare pussy out for her to see. That thought pulls me into motion. Pulling my hands away from my mouth, I pull them into my sleeve and use them to wipe the tears and snot from my face. If my southern belle mother was to see me right now, she would likely pass out, but I don’t care. Sliding off the bed, I stand on shaky legs, grab my panties and pants from the chair, and put them on. The weight crushing my chest makes it hard to breathe. I collapse in the chair, hanging my head as my hand instinctively goes to my lower tummy. Please don’t leave me too. I just got you, little bean. I love you so much already. Why is everyone leaving me?

A soft knock comes from behind the pulled curtain. At the same time, my phone pings in my pocket. “Come in,” I choke out, ignoring my phone for now. I will worry about the outside world later. If I make it out of this room alive, that is. The curtain pulls back, and Dr. Yates walks in. I have been coming to her since I was born, and usually I enjoy our talks, but not this time. When her gaze lands on me, a look of sadness passes over her face, but she quickly tries to hide it. I saw it. The room is bright from the sun streaming through the window behind me. Another cold chill graces my body, even though I’m sitting directly in the sunlight I’m frozen to the bone. I feel like I’ll never be warm again. My hands turn to fists on my stomach, as she grabs the stool the nurse just got up from and rolls it over to sit in front of me.

Leaning forward, she pulls my hands away from my belly and holds them in hers. Another sob leaves me. “Oh, sweetie,” she says softly. Her thumbs start rubbing circles on the back of my hands, but she doesn’t say anything else. The silence in the room feels like a blanket trying to suffocate me. It has a life of its own and flows through us, wrapping itself around me. I need her to say something, but at the same time, I’m begging her to keep her mouth shut. If she never says it, I can walk out of this room and live a lie, but at least I’ll still be living.

“No. No. She’s wrong. I know she is. Tell her to come back in, and I promise I won’t move. I was just moving around too much. That’s why it never showed up,” I whimper, breaking the silence.

“Oh, sweetie. If only. I’m so sorry. These things happen, but there is no longer a heartbeat. Have you had any weird pains or feelings?”

“God no just the small bleeding. Your machine is wrong. There is a heartbeat. There has to be one… there has to be.” She pulls me into her as I cover my mouth to keep the scream that rips through me somewhat quiet. I’m making a massive fool of myself, but this can’t be happening.

“No, Tiffani. There isn’t. You have suffered a miscarriage,” she tries to soothe me.

Miscarriage, no heartbeat. What do those words even fucking mean? How can that even happen? I’ve been taking care of myself. Not lifting anything, watching where I walk, how I sleep at night, and I’ve had no pain. Shouldn’t I have felt something when… My whole world shifts for that last and final time. This time I’m afraid it’s so far off its axis that it won’t be right again. Dr. Yates pushes me back by my shoulder, but the tears are so bad at this point that I can’t see her face inches from mine.

Her mouth moves, clearly saying something, but no sound reaches my ears. The only sound making its way to my eardrums is the fast beating of my own heart. I wish it would stop. It is only serving to remind me that the tiny heartbeat I’ve been carrying with me for two months is no longer there. I won’t ever hear it again, and I don’t want to hear my own if that’s the case. Why did it have to stop? What did I do wrong? The more I blink, the worse my vision gets. I can’t do this. How do I walk out of here without the only thing that was keeping me alive?

The sensation of cold hands on my wet cheeks pulls me from my breakdown. The thumping in my ears calms down enough that I can hear what Dr. Yates is saying. The sincere look that was on her face a minute ago morphs into a disgusted and angry one. “Tiffani. It’s all your fault. You did this. You deserve this. You are a failure, and you know it. A failure as a daughter, a friend, and most importantly, a woman. What kind of woman can’t even protect her baby. No wonder he left you all alone. He never loved you. No one does.”

What the fuck? Opening my mouth, I let out the loudest scream I have ever created and pull my head out of her hands.

My body shoots forward, a scream still coming from my throat, as my eyes fly open. My chest is heaving as my breath comes out in pants. Darkness surrounds me, and as my eyes adjust to it, I make out where I am. I’m not in the doctor’s office. I’m all alone, sitting in the middle of my bed. A cold tear lands on my chest, and my hand grips the wet sheets below my body. “It was just a nightmare,” I whisper into the darkness. Reaching over, I turn on the small lamp sitting next to me. No one comes running to check on me, and no one will. As my gaze takes in the dingy, badly-in-need-of-repair, studio apartment I live in, I’m reminded that while what I just went through was a nightmare, it’s a nightmare based on my truth. Instead of being a mother to a four-year-old, I’m a failure.

Just like in the dream, my hand falls to my stomach. My flat stomach that holds no stretch marks, because my body failed me. I couldn’t protect the little thing in me for longer than eight weeks. I flop back down, only to be reminded of the cold, wet sheets. Groaning, I roll out of bed, sliding my feet into my old, worn-down house shoes. Turning, I pull the wet sheets, pillowcase, and quilt off the small twin bed. Balling it all up, I head across the apartment I can barley afford and grab the bag holding my laundry soap. Opening my front door, I head down the stairs and into the laundry mat I live above. Opening the lid of the closest washer, I throw everything in, not caring about separating colors from whites. Once everything is shoved in, I pull the small coin purse out and insert six quarters into the machine. The sound of water rushing into the tub fills the empty room.

Sighing, I pull myself up on the lid. My whole body is still shaking from the horrible things my mind conjured up while I slept. I don’t need someone to tell me what Dr. Yates said in my dream is just a manifestation of how I feel about myself. I'm not dense. Every vial thing that poured out of the dream Dr. Yates' mouth, are things I have said to myself over these past four years. The feeling of failure and I are close friends by now. She has been my only company for so long that I wear her like a second skin. I drift through my days and nights with her wrapped around me, choking me to the point that sometimes I’m scared it will kill me.

That day irrevocably changed me, just like I feared it would. I walked out of that building and into a world void of color, happiness, and warmth. I watched while everyone around me went on living their life, and I stayed stuck. I had just graduated high school and had the world at my fingertips before that visit. Afterwards, I watched as everyone left this town, searching for their next adventure. They went off to the college of their choice, or whatever they had planned, while I mourned the loss of my future. I became a shell of who I once was. I was all set to join my best friend, Emilee, and her husband, who was also a dear friend, Parker, at college. We had picked out a small, two-bedroom apartment close to campus so we could live together. They gave up their space as newlyweds for me, but I never showed up. The message she sent me that day went unanswered, just like the rest of them. Eventually, they stopped coming altogether.

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