Don't Turn Back (Coming Home Book 1) (27 page)

I make it inside the apartment just as my stomach starts to churn again. 

Please, I just want to feel better.
I plead with myself, knowing that as long as my nerves are bundled in knots, I’m not going to feel any better any time soon.

I stumble to the bathroom and lose my Sprite. I am so weak right now; it’s times like this I wish Rebecca or Brian were here with me. I don’t like being alone when I’m sick, but right now, I will deal with it simply because the thought of either of them only makes it worse.

I begin to wonder if maybe I do have a virus, or possibly even food poisoning. I have been so sick this week, more than I can recall in my entire life.

I wake up just as the light is beginning to darken outside. I force myself to nibble on some crackers, but I’m scared to eat very much of anything, for fear of it coming back up. I feel so bad.

Around the time I should be getting ready for work, I realize I am simply too weak to even get up to take a shower. I really hate to do this, but there is no way I’m going to be able to make it in tonight. I place the call to my boss and apologize for the late notice. He suggests I drink lots of liquids, because I could be getting dehydrated from all of the vomiting. He also doesn’t give me a hard time about it, I’m thankful for his understanding.

I try to relax on the couch and prop the pillow up behind me. I glance over at my phone, and it hits me how it has been quiet all week. Other than the phone call from my dad, no one has called or texted all week.
I can’t keep going on like this
.

This has been one of the longest weeks ever, since moving in with Jennifer. I remembered to grab my phone charger when I stopped by the apartment earlier this week for a shower. I knew Jennifer would be at work, so I made sure to pick up behind myself, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

But the phone has been eerily quiet all week. No texts, no calls, nothing from her.

I sit in the parking lot of the movie theater. I couldn’t decide on a movie to see, so I decided to take a nap instead. I’m literally counting change now, and I’ve got to decide soon if I’m going to beg Jennifer for a chance to explain things, or give up on us and move on. I’m not going to get much further since I’m really broke now.

The nine o’clock movie lets out, and I am awakened by the variety of noises outside my car. Teenage kids are walking through the parking lot to meet their parents, couples are holding hands, and groups of friends are laughing and talking on their cell phones. I miss talking with Jennifer so much.

I charged my phone earlier today at the library, and glancing down, I see it still has nearly a full battery. I click one of my favorite games, music playing as the game downloads. I’ve thought many times this week about Jennifer, how I would give anything to hear from her. Even if nothing else but an angry text or call, just some kind of communication from her would be welcomed.

And just like some kind of magic, I see the notification light up on my phone alerting me of an incoming text. A text from, none other, than Jennifer.

Jennifer:
 
Are you able to help me?

What kind of a weird text is that?
While I want to be relieved to finally have a message from her, I’m a little hesitant to reply. I want nothing more than to hear her voice, but I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with the consequences that lay ahead. Right now, I’m concerned by this question from her.

Brian:
 
Yes, baby. Are you in trouble? Do I need to come to the hotel?

Almost instantly, she replies back.

Jennifer:
 
I’m very sick. Can’t keep anything down. Severe cramps. Need to go to ER.

Brian:
Are you home?

Jennifer:
Yes

Brian:
Be right there.

I’m I pulling from the theater parking lot and driving straight to the apartment before the final text goes through. I park and shut the car off, making a dash down the hallway. The door is unlocked. I knock first anyway, and then step inside. I don’t know what I’m expecting to see, but the sight of Jennifer curled up in a fetal position on the couch, with a washcloth across her forehead, alarms me.

I kneel down next to her, taking her hand in mine. “Baby, are you okay? What’s going on?” I gently brush her hair back from her face and see just how pale her skin coloring is.

“I don’t know. I can’t keep anything down, and I’m severely cramping,” She mumbles, and I’m barely able to make out her words.

“How long have you been this way?”

“I’ve felt ill all week, but I’ve been throwing up literally all day long. I think I’m getting dehydrated. The stomach cramps just started earlier tonight.” Her face contorts from the pain.

I attempt to help her sit up, and offer my hand for assistance. Surprisingly, she takes it. “I’m going to grab your coat for you and some shoes. Is there anything else you need?” I hate these are the circumstances that brought us together again, but I’m just thankful to be able to help her.

“Just my purse. All my insurance information is inside.” She sounds so pitiful. “Thank you.”

Since she messaged me for help, I’m assuming she hasn’t yet resolved things with her best friend. Right now, I don’t want to mention that dreadful night. I just want to get her to the hospital.

I put my hand around her middle and assist her with walking to the door. She is so weak; it takes all of her energy to move. We make it to her car, and she hands me the keys to drive. I don’t bother asking for directions to the hospital, since I already know it’s location, and she doesn’t question how I came to know this information.

I pull into a spot near the emergency room entrance. Walking over to open the car door for her, I help ease her from the seat. She’s so frail looking, I
almost
want to pick her up and carry her. But I don’t.

We walk to the front admittance desk, and I sign her name on the clipboard. A female nurse glances at Jennifer’s name and calls her to a room off to the side. 

“Do you want me to help you?” I ask her, not wanting to upset her if she doesn’t want my assistance.

“Please.” It pains me seeing her so sick and weak.

We walk to the room, and I pull out the chair for her to get comfortable. The nurse begins asking her questions, first personal, then about her symptoms. I wish she had contacted me sooner so we could have seen a doctor before getting to this point. Jennifer pulls her insurance card and ID from her purse and the nurse leaves for a moment to make copies.

“Baby, they are going to find out what’s wrong. The doctors here are going to help you feel better.” I rub her hand and try to reassure her as best I can.

She rests her head on the wall behind the chair and closes her eyes. The nurse returns and gives a small plastic bottle to Jennifer, instructing her to provide a urine sample for tests. 

“Are you able to do this by yourself or do you need some assistance?” The nurse asks.

“I think I can do it.” Jennifer stands and slowly walks to the restroom that’s connected to this office. 

The nurse questions what my relation is to Jennifer, and without hesitation, I tell her I’m her boyfriend, omitting our recent separation.

Jennifer finally returns, and the nurse takes her vitals and asks her to step onto the scale. 

“Okay, I’m going to get this specimen over to the lab and the doctor will be with you shortly. Go ahead and change into the gown that’s on the counter.” The nurse points to the gown and closes the door behind her.

“I’m just going to step out in the hallway while you change, unless you need my help.” I tell her, not wanting to make her feel awkward.

“Thank you.”

I give her a few minutes then crack open the door. She’s in the bed now with a sheet draped over her. I can tell she is cold.

“I’m so sorry you feel bad. They are going to find out what’s wrong and get you better.”

She closes her eyes and for a moment; I think she has drifted off to sleep. Minutes pass and I begin to wonder if the doctor is ever going to come. I pull out my phone and turn the volume down while I play a game, hoping to occupy my mind.

Nearly an hour later, there is a light knock on the door. An older, white-haired man wearing a white coat with a stethoscope draped across his shoulders walks in. Jennifer awakens and attempts to sit up. As he approaches her bed, he extends his hand. “Hi Jennifer, I’m Dr. Porter. What seems to be troubling you?”

Jennifer tells the same story to the doctor that she already told the nurse. I am growing angry at myself for not contacting her sooner.

The doctor glances over some notations made on her chart. “We have the results from the lab, and nothing looks abnormal. Your blood work doesn’t indicate any infections, and your counts are where they should be. If I had to guess, I would say you’ve probably gotten a twenty-four hour bug. Have you had this trouble with morning sickness for long?”

Uhh, what? Did I just hear this man correctly? Did he just say morning sickness?

I suddenly want to jump from my chair and leave the room. 
Morning sickness? How could she not have told me? This can’t be happening. There is no way she can be pregnant.
Almost like a slap to my face, I think back to the few nights we had sex and neither of us had bothered to use protection.
How could we have been so careless?
Yes, we did discuss it afterwards, but I never expected this to happen.
When was she planning to tell me?

I look over to her, so helpless on the hospital bed. She is silent. Shocked.

“Ms. Davis? Are you okay?” The doctor questions her.

“Did you say morning sickness?” Her face looks even paler now than when we first arrived at the hospital, if that’s even possible.

I realize by her blank stare that this is news to her as well. While I’m still upset by hearing the news for the first time, I realize she must be even more shocked. She looks over at me and quickly looks away as though she is embarrassed. I don’t know what to say or do.

“I’m going to give you something to help with the nausea. If this is a stomach bug, it should help with your throwing up, too. You are on the borderline of dehydration, so please drink plenty of fluids, especially those containing electrolytes. Once you feel like it, I would recommend something light for your stomach, such as some clear broth and crackers to help regain your strength. I’m judging by your expression the pregnancy is news to you. If you need a recommendation for an obstetrician, my nurse can help with that. But you do need to see one as soon as possible. They can prescribe something for you to help with the sickness if this continues.” The doctor stands and shakes her hand and mine.