She gives me a small smile. “I’d like to go ahead and do a D&C. You’ll be able to go home afterward, but you’ll need to take it easy for a few days. Drink lots of fluids. You’ll experience some mild cramping and bleeding, which could last a week or two. The nurse will go over what to watch for before you go back for the procedure. Do you have any questions?”
I can’t think of any, so I shake my head.
At least none that she can answer.
My question is this: How will I tell Ford?
How will I explain that I lost our child? One I didn’t even know existed until it was too late. What kind of mother am I? How will he ever forgive me?
And my biggest question of all: How will I ever forgive myself?
When I wake, I’m groggy and tired. My lower abdomen feels tight, but there isn’t any pain. At least none there. All the ache remains in my chest.
“Hey,” Aunt Joan whispers, her eyes swollen and tired. “You did great.” She leans over my bed and kisses my forehead, much like she did when I was a child and would show up at her house hoping to eat.
I look around, noticing we’re alone in the small room. “Cassie?”
My aunt flashes me a quick look. “Well, she’s in the hall, talking to Chad on the phone.”
“Chad?” I whisper, my voice raw and hoarse.
She nods. “Yeah, she called him. Your phone has been blowing up with texts from Ford. A bit ago, he called too, but I missed the call before it went to voice mail. Since I don’t know your password, I wasn’t able to call him back. The texts have been getting increasingly urgent, so I told Cass to call Chad. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I knew how much that boy must be worrying about you.”
I close my eyes for a moment and fight against the fatigue. The clock on the wall reads three in the morning, and I can only imagine what Ford must be feeling. Even though I’d much rather tell him myself what’s going on, I wouldn’t want to keep him in the dark any longer than necessary. “No, it’s okay.”
“Chad will tell him you’re okay,” she reassures, rubbing my hand. “He’ll have Ford call you at our house later after you’ve gotten some rest.”
“I can stay at my apartment. Mom must be worried,” I reply, catching the look that crosses her face. “What?”
Aunt Joan sighs. “Well, your mom was here, sweetie.”
“She was?” I ask, glancing around.
She nods. “I sent her away.”
Her words are quiet yet pack a punch. “You did?”
“I did. She showed up looking for your keys so she could get into the apartment. She was…” Aunt Joan closes her eyes for a second, but when she opens them, I already know what she’s going to say. I can feel the remorse ebbing from her small frame. “She was pretty strung out, and she kept saying she needed to get inside to get her things. Bull was with her.”
And just like that, I’m crying all over again. My body aches with a familiar pain, one I’ve grown so accustomed to carrying, yet it engulfs me, taking me by surprise all the same. Why? Because I had hope. I had hoped this time would be different.
That she would be different.
“Security escorted them from the building, and Jet was going to make sure they didn’t gain access to your apartment. Uncle Henry will gather her things and meet her somewhere away from you. We won’t let them hurt you again,” my aunt vows, but we both know it’s already too late for that.
The damage is done.
She’s hurt me all over again.
“Shayne, we’re getting you set for discharge,” Dr. Lewis says, entering the room. She takes a seat beside me and goes over post-op instructions. The nurse removes my IV and helps me change into a T-shirt and pair of cotton shorts that Cassie brought me, and before I know it, we’re on our way.
A part of me wants to insist I go home to my own bed in my own space, but a bigger part doesn’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be there if my mom or Bull shows up, so I don’t fight it when I’m placed in my aunt’s car and driven out of town, toward their farm.
Once we arrive, Uncle Henry meets us at the car and helps me out. He never leaves my side as he escorts me to the house and up the stairs. I’m led to Chad’s room, where his bed beckons me. I’m suddenly so exhausted, I feel like I could sleep for days.
They say their goodnights and promise to check in on me regularly. I can tell by the look in Aunt Joan’s worried eyes, she probably won’t be getting much rest, even though she’s been up all night.