Page 11 of The Defense Rests
"Shaun and I have history. Personal." Mom raises a brow at this with a lift of her lip. "Not like that. We met when I was taking some classes here. We became friends over the two years I went to the community college before heading out to Berkeley. We…just lost contact for a few years."
"And you want to make sure he isn't getting played in this lawsuit," Dad says. Not a question.
I nod anyway.
"Sounds very complicated to me, but back to your question. Several factors may contribute to the occurrence of birth defects. Many of them are related to diet, lack of vitamins, or a long history of medication. Also, suppose a patient is diabetic and her glucose levels aren't managed. In that case, the high levels of glucose can cause damage to the fetus. Do you have any of her lab results? We can tell you what to look for." Mom says, excited to help.
"No. All of her lab results were obtained at her primary care doctor's office, and she refused to release them. She would only release records that related to the pregnancy. Most of her labs never made it to the clinic. There were notes in the file of phone conversations between her PCP and Dr. Whitmore discussing the pregnancy and test results.
"Well, that doesn't sound right," Dad chimes in.
"Exactly." I take a bite of my steak and groan as the flavor melts on my tongue.
Once the dishes are cleared and the kitchen is clean, I excuse myself to head back upstairs to work for a while. Pulling my laptop out of my bag, I sit on the bed to review some notes with the new information from my parents, focusing solely on the lab results this time.
After clicking on several documents, I strike gold ten minutes later. I think.
"BINGO!"
I grab my laptop and fly down the stairs. "Mom! Dad! Come here…please." I set my computer on the kitchen table, and both of my parents sauntered into the kitchen with me pointing to the screen. "Look."
Goosebumps travel up my arm, hoping I have something of importance. "These labs were in the case file. The paper copy I scanned indicated one of three pages. But the other two pages weren't attached. This one lab is the last line item on page one, and it was probably overlooked by the person sending the labs to Dr. Whitmore's office."
Glucose level 286
"That is extremely high. Even if the person wasn't fasting, the range shouldn't be higher than one hundred eighty for a diabetic." Mom confirms what I was thinking.
"And if she is diabetic and her diabetes isn't under control, then that could possibly cause birth defects in her baby during the pregnancy." Dad finishes for her.
"This is awesome." I offer them a huge grin and a group hug before closing my laptop. Mom gives me a scowl. "Sorry, not awesome as in something happening to the baby, but…you know…for my case." I offer an apologetic look.
I grab my laptop and bolt back up the stairs, tripping on the last step before hitting the landing. I hear Dad chuckle before he tells me to slow down.
"I'm going out for a bit. Don't wait up."
This is a great start, but I have a long road ahead of me. Especially since there is nothing mentioned in any of the files that Heather is a diabetic. I could be grasping at straws. But only one place to start.
Me: Busy?
Teddy Bear: Never too busy for you.
Me: Meet me at Kate's Dinner in thirty?
Teddy Bear: It's a date.
Six
Shaun
"The other party will be here in a moment," I tell the waitress as she guides me to a booth near the window. The outside is bright and flourishing with new life for the season — a contrast to how I'm feeling these days. The lawsuit is weighing on me more and more. Everyone at the clinic tells me not to stress so much, but it's easy for them to say; their job isn't on the line.
I let my mind drift back to the sterile law office conference room. It was such a contrast to the vibrant, pulsating energy of Bedford City. It fits the image of Mr. Malloy. His no-nonsense demeanor was so unprofessional. I understand that I'm not their client, but a little decorum would have been nice. Threats never go over well with me. If anything, they push me to do the opposite.
The bell on the door pulls me from my thoughts, only to flood them with images of Kai, standing there looking around. I wave my hand to get his attention, and he smiles before walking toward me with purpose, reminding me of the day he was nervous to tell me about leaving for Berkeley. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. The day I thought my heart was breaking, although we were never in a relationship. We would often play at the center's events and text each other, but nothing more than that, since we were both busy. Over the few months after his announcement, our companionship gradually eroded.When we played together, we went all in, trying to drink each other up as if we would never see each other again, and we were trying to make as many memories as possible.
I began sacrificing precious time, even texts and phone calls, to fulfill my academic and professional ambitions. I became so consumed by work that I failed to fully appreciate the importance of Kai in my life. In the end, it was too late because Kai left before I had the chance to tell him how I really felt.
The memories intensify, the emotions surging back with a force I hadn't anticipated. I was being pulled back into our past, reliving the highs of our relationship–dolls, tea parties, and glitter. So much glitter. It was almost unbearable; these memories being a sharp contrast to the cold, stark reality of my current dilemma.
