“Jesus,” I hiss. “Oh, Jesus.” My voice is raw as I pick her up, cradling her limp body to me. I don’t check for a pulse, I don’t stop for anything. All I can think is that I need to get her to the hospital. I’ve got to try and save my baby. I have to….
I never realized how dingy hospital waiting rooms were before. Everything is a dull beige that looks more like gray with the overhead, filtered lighting. I’ve been here for an hour. They haven’t told me a damn thing. I wring my hands together. I started to call someone, but I realized that I’m really all alone. Jake is in Wyoming. He’s making a name for himself riding bulls. We tried to keep in touch, but last time we talked he was high on life, and I was about at rock bottom. It made talking to him next to impossible. And it makes me a shit friend, but I haven’t told him Katie is pregnant. She begged me not to, that if Jake knew he’d give up his dream just to come back and she didn’t want him like that—she didn’t want him to resent his child. I can’t say for sure Jake would have felt like that, but I know that I’ve spent some time since finding out Chas was pregnant resenting my child.
Calling Mitch never was much of an option—it’s less so now. There’s no way Callie wants to hear from me—and especially about this. So, here I am, sitting alone in the hospital waiting room, waiting to hear if my child and Chas survived. Chas never regained consciousness on the way over here. I don’t even know if she was alive. I think I felt a pulse, but I can’t be sure. My own was hammering so hard that I could feel it in my fingertips. That made it next to impossible to check Chas’s.
“Mr. Lane?”
I stand up, my legs shaky as a man in blue scrubs and a white overcoat approaches me. He has a mask pulled off one side of his face, his hair covered in a blue scrub cap.
“I…I’m Mr. Lane.”
“Mr. Lane, I’m afraid your wife didn’t make it—”
“She’s not my wife,” I correct him. I’m not sure why that feels like it’s so important to correct, but it does. “Doctor, how is the baby?” I don’t comment on the fact he said Chas wasn’t alive.
“Mr. Lane, Mrs.—”
“Doctor, it’s Miss Newberg. We’re not married. I need to know about the baby.”
“The baby,” he says. “The nurse said you mentioned she was pregnant, but Mr. Lane, there was no baby.”
“She lost it?” I ask, going numb.
“No.”
“Doctor you’re confusing me. Did she or did she not lose our baby before she died? She’s far enough along, you could keep her alive right, machines or something—anything until you could—”
“Mr. Reed, Mrs.—Miss Newberg was never pregnant. She had no signs of a pregnancy and in fact when we looked at her medical records, it was discovered she couldn’t have children because of an accident she had when younger.”
“I… She was never pregnant?” I squeak.
“Never. Mr. Lane, I’m not sure what you were told, but—”
I don’t let him finish.
I’ve been played for a fucking fool. Chas was never pregnant. She was never having my child. I broke up with Callie, put her through hell—put myself through hell and it was all for fucking nothing.
Nothing.
I slap my hand against the glass hospital door and open it wishing Chas was alive so I could choke the life out of her.
46 Reed
“Let me in, Callie. I’m not going anywhere until you do,” I warn, my hand flat against the door.
I draw it back, slapping it hard again. It’s dark, but I have no idea what time it is. I know it’s too late—or early, I guess—to be here at Callie’s door and yet I’m here anyway. I’ve wasted so much time. I was a bastard for pushing her away, but I didn’t know how else to do things. I think I’ve been operating forever in shock and guilt. She’ll probably tell me to go fuck myself, but I just need to see her.
I need to tell her how I feel.
My heart beats in triple time as the knob begins to turn. I prepare myself to see Callie, but instead it’s Katie. “Reed, what the hell?”
Katie stares at me, her hair pulled on top of her head, her eyes squinted because she was obviously asleep. She’s wearing a ratty blue robe and staring at me like I’ve lost my mind and I guess, maybe I have.
“I need to talk to Callie. I know she doesn’t want to talk to me but—”
“You’re right, she doesn’t,” Katie snaps, crossing her arms at her chest.
“I’ve got to talk to her, Katie. I need to explain.”