Page 57 of Bonds We Break
I hate the way my hormones rule me these days. I don’t mean to be such a bitch, so I pull Cash back to me and give him a proper goodbye, kissing him with more rigor than I normally would in front of someone.
“Get a room,” Adam scoffs, and I smile against Cash’s lips before we break apart.
“I love you,” he says to me, and I clutch the keys in my hand, waving at both of them before exiting.
I walk across the street to the parking garage and find my car parked where we left it. I haven’t been on the back of Cash’s bike since we found out I was pregnant. I miss that feeling of absolute freedom, the wind in my hair, and my arms wrapped around the soft leather of Cash’s jacket. I am still that same person, but I’m trapped in someone else’s body and I resent it sometimes. There are times when I feel this immense love that I think I will burst just from the thought of holding our baby in my arms, and other times, I feel so disconnected.
I haven’t told Cash any of this because I don’t know if he would understand. He’s so sure about this, about me, and I can’t bear to give him any doubts. Getting pregnant wasn’t planned, but it is a wonderful surprise. The thought of holding a baby with Cash’s sandy blonde hair and his stormy grey eyes fills me with so much love. If I don’t think about it too hard, I can enjoy the thought. When I let my self-doubts creep in, I am filled with dread about being good enough. Maybe it is more about losing my identity because I’ve already gotten a taste of that.
I shake the thoughts from my mind and get in the car, having to adjust the seat. I give my ticket to the parking attendant and pay. The traffic in the city is always horrible, and I have to navigate through the city streets to get to the I10. The highway is no better, but when I get to Castle Heights, it lessens and I can actually go the speed limit. I think about stopping at one of the shops near our place to look at some bedding for the crib Cash put together last weekend, but I’m so tired. I wonder sometimes how I will make it the full nine months when I feel so out of sorts at only thirteen weeks.
I warned Cash not to buy too many things all at once, but he couldn’t wait to make our spare room into the baby’s room. I loved watching him get frustrated trying to put the crib together. Are you sure these directions are in English, he asked? I laugh out loud just thinking about it.
Traffic merges from the on-ramp and I signal to change lanes when a cold sweat breaks out on my skin, and my vision blurs.
*****
I open my eyes to bright lights and blink them shut again. There are voices around me and I don’t feel in control of my own body. I blink my eyes open again and everything is blurry, as if I’m riding the teacups at Disneyland. I can see the sky, or what I think is the sky, but it twists and turns until I can’t see it anymore. I try to move my hand but they are both restrained, and that’s when I start to panic.
“You’ve been in a car accident,” I hear someone’s calming voice say from close to my ear. “Try not to move.”
Everything goes black again.
TEARS FALL FREELY over Cash’s cheeks, something I never thought I would ever witness, and it’s heartbreaking all on its own, besides the reason for them. Wetness pools onto the material of my hospital gown and blooms like the petals of a flower opening. I press his head to my chest as he lays half of his body across me. I can’t bear to look into his eyes, so full of disappointment and regret. As his body shudders against me, I begin to cry with him. We are two ships lost at sea yet tied to one another, taking on more water than we can bail out. As the waves of emotion try to force us under into the deep, dark ocean below, we hold onto each other for support.
I hear footsteps retreat and a door close, giving us privacy to grieve. My body is sore but the pain comes from deep within. I have often felt the sharp sting of life throwing punches my way, but this is a rabbit punch aimed at the back of my head that I never saw coming.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpers into my chest with unrestrained tears. The wetness spreads and sticks to the small space between my breasts. I’m not sure what he is sorry for; sorry that we lost our baby, or sorry that he isn’t strong enough to bear this for both of us?
I have never loved him more than in this moment; his ability to be vulnerable and allow himself, for once, to not have to be the strong one.
“If I had driven you home…” he can’t finish the sentence and I close my eyes. Fate can be a cruel pill to swallow, something you can never outrun.
“Stop,” I say quietly. I don’t want him to blame himself. There is no way either of us could have known that I would have a seizure while driving.
It feels like a bad dream that I can’t wake up from, but the worst is that I don’t remember any of it. If I could picture the impact, remember the moment I knew my life would change forever, maybe this would feel real.
I haven’t been able to wrap my head around any of this because I’ve never had a seizure before. The doctors seem puzzled and want to do more tests, but none of that matters at the moment.
Instead, I play with the strands of Cash’s hair. The action is soothing and comforting to me, more than it is for him I’m sure. I need something to hold onto, to keep me tethered. I will never know what it feels like to run my fingers over the soft peach fuzz of our baby’s head. That gift has been taken away from me.
I look up at the ceiling, and all I can think is that it’s the same pattern I saw on the ceiling of the operating room just before everything went dark. The aching emptiness inside of me comes back, and I want to curl up inside of it.
I take a deep, clarifying breath and lift the blanket, beckoning Cash to climb into the bed with me. His long body wraps around me, barely fitting on this small mattress, but the weight of him is what grounds me, keeps me here, instead of letting me drift away. Cash absently moves his hand to my belly and I feel as if I want to throw up, but instead, I bury my face against his neck.
Something was stolen from me today, and I will never be the same again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
You Could Never Disappear
“CAN YOU SPEAK plain English?” Cash asks Dr. Nagar irritably. He sits next to me in the chair opposite Dr. Nagar’s desk. He is gripping my hand tightly, almost to the point of being painful, but I welcome the distraction. The room is icy cold and I don’t know if I’m shivering because of it, or because of the news he’s just given us.
“The CT Scan revealed changes in your brain activity. Along with the genetic testing, we have confirmed it is Huntington’s disease,” Dr. Nagar repeats, his voice clinical. His grim expression masks his handsome features, and I don’t need to hear anymore. I turn away from him, wanting to escape but knowing I can’t. I have an instinct to get up from this chair and run. Run to where, I don’t know, but anywhere is better than being here.
“What is that? What does that mean?” Cash asks for both of us, even though I don’t want to know the answer. My coping mechanism has always been to avoid things in hopes they will eventually disappear. It never did me any good, but I did it anyway. If I can’t hear what he says, then it isn’t real.
“It causes degeneration of the nerve cells in the brain,” Dr. Nagar explains as I crawl further into the dark crevasses of my mind. In the background, I hear the echo of Cash’s voice and the word progressive is uttered in a forced hush, as if whispering it would lessen the impact.
