Finding Christina (Wild Rose #2) (11 page)

Christina watched her best friend leave the room with a sinking feeling. It felt as though she’d taken every ounce of happiness out of the room with her. “I wish I could run away. It would make my life easier. But it wouldn’t erase the reality of what’s going on, now would it?” she whispered softly, as the door closed.

We’re alone again, baby.

While Grace was gone, time ticked slowly. Her favorite nurse, Vickie, was back on shift today, and when she came in to check on the medicine dripping through the tubes and into her IV, Christina attempted to make small talk.

“How’s the weather?” she muttered lamely.

Vickie smiled and adjusted the blankets on the bed. “It’s cold. Are you getting antsy in here? Your friend tore out of here like hell’s demons were nipping at her heels. How did she take the news?”

“I’m antsy for sure. I just feel like I’m waiting on the other shoe to drop. Something is going to happen. I know it. Grace, well, she took it as good as one could possibly take it, I guess. She said she’ll be my child’s guardian if anything happens, so that’s a plus. She said she’d be back. That’s even better. I’m just waiting.” Christina smoothed the invisible wrinkles on the blanket and nodded to herself. “She’ll be back.”

“I hope so, sweetie. How’s the itching?” Vickie asked with concern.

“I’m still itchy and I’m so tired. My eyes are burning a bit like they’re really dry,” Christina whined.

“Hmm. Let me take your temperature.” Her frown deepened. “Shit. You shouldn’t be running a fever, kid. Let me get the doctor.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Christina whimpered.

“I don’t know, but with all these antibiotics, you shouldn’t be running a fever. Let me get him.” Vickie rushed from the room and dread filled Christina.

Something is wrong.
Tentatively she touched her stomach.
I have to make sure he will be okay.

A new doctor came in this time. “Hi, Christina, I’m Dr. Patterson. I’m taking care of you today. Tell me what’s going on.” He sat down on the stool and picked up her chart.

“I feel itchy, but it’s to the point it hurts. My eyes are burning, and I feel like crap. I mean, I felt like crap before, but now I really feel like poo. I’m so tired.” Christina explained, her voice weak.

“You have a fever of one hundred and one. I am concerned after your reaction to Bactrim.” Dr. Patterson explained.

“What are you concerned about? I reacted and it’s over.” Christina shrugged. “It was no big deal.”

Dr. Patterson opened her chart and read through the pages. “There is a condition that can occur for people who have a reaction to Bactrim and other medicines and I'm worried that you may end up with it. It’s called Stevens-Johnson syndrome.”

“What in the hell is that?” Christina wrinkled her nose.
All this medical jargon is driving me nuts!

“It’s pretty serious. It’s a syndrome where your skin begins to blister and literally peel off. In extreme cases people can lose up to ten percent of their skin. The reason I’m worried about it, is because according to your blood work, your viral load is going down. You shouldn’t have a fever. Having AIDS does make it more likely to get Stevens-Johnson syndrome. Burning eyes, fever, aching skin are all symptoms. It’s a watch and wait game right now. There is no treatment for the syndrome. All we can do is treat the symptoms. It’s dangerous with your CD4 count being as low as it is. If you do have this, we’ll have to put you in ICU and keep a close eye on you for opportunistic and secondary infections.” Dr. Patterson explained.

Christina felt the blood drain from her face. “I could die.”

“Yes. You could. There is a definite possibility. If you do end up with this syndrome, it won't be good at all,” he added.

“What about my baby? I’m not far enough along…” Christina begged, tears running down her face.

“You could survive too. It’s not a death sentence, but it’s a reality that it could happen. If you are far enough along in your pregnancy, we can perform an emergency C-section if anything would happen, but if you aren’t…” Dr. Patterson’s voice trailed off and his face went grim.

“If I’m not, my baby and I would die. So, how long until we know if it’s this Stevens syndrome thing?” Christina insisted.

“It’s been about thirty-six hours since you had your reaction. With this syndrome, some people begin to show symptoms soon and for others it can take a couple of weeks. So all we can do is watch and wait. When and if you get blisters, we’ll do a skin biopsy to rule out anything else.”

“I don’t want my friend to know right now. Not yet. I just...I piled enough on her for one day. Let’s not get her worried unless there is cause to worry,” Christina pleaded and Dr. Patterson nodded in agreement.

“That’s fine with me. It’s your choice as to what we tell her. All we can do is watch and wait, Christina. I’m going to keep you on these medicines. They seem to be helping the HIV load and the Pneumocystis Pneumonia,” he continued, helping her to understand what was going on with her body.

“Let’s do it.” Christina smiled and leaned back against her pillows. “I’m tired.”

“Then we’ll let you rest. If you feel any different, please let us know.” Dr. Patterson closed her chart and put it back at the end of her bed.

“I will,” Christina promised, her eyes already drifting closed.

She woke up later and looked around. Grace dozed in the chair next to her bed, curled up in the ugly green piece of furniture with her mouth wide open. Soft snores escaped from between her lips. Christina stared at her for a moment and she shifted in the bed again.

You came back. You didn’t run away. You’re one in a million, Grace. I am so lucky to have you as a friend. I wish I’d been a better one to you. Maybe I have time to make it up to you. Just maybe.
She jumped and clapped a hand over her mouth as a squeak escaped. A fluttering thump came from her belly and she stared down at her belly in wonder.
You’re going to fix everything, aren’t you, baby? You’ve helped me find out who I really am and admit to the things I’ve done. You’re going to save Grace. You’ve already saved me. In more ways than you’ll ever know.

Her door opened and a nurse walked in. “Shh!” Christina ordered. “Don’t turn on that light, come use this little one.” She pointed at the light behind the bed.

“I’m Leslie, I’m your night nurse. I’m just coming in to check your temperature. How are you feeling?” Leslie murmured.

“My skin hurts. I am thirsty and hungry,” Christina whispered back, doing all she could to keep from waking Grace.

“Let me see if I can get you some juice and crackers. They’ll be bringing breakfast around in a couple of hours.”

“Hey, hand me my phone, will you?” Christina motioned to the phone, which Grace had started charging.

“Sure thing. Need anything else?” Leslie unplugged the phone and passed it over.

“Not right now. Thank you.”

Christina turned her phone on and browsed through the few texts from Addie and Patrick asking if she was okay. She responded honestly, letting them know there was a chance she was developing Stevens-Johnson syndrome from the reaction to the antibiotic.

She still had Drake’s number and e-mail in her phone and she contemplated e-mailing him. Chances were good he’d changed his number to something unlisted now that he was with the band, but maybe he still had the same e-mail. She had input it all into her phone when he’d given her the scrap of paper with the information, saving it just in case, even as she tossed the paper to save Grace. Now she had the chance to tell him what she’d done.

Not yet. I still have time.

When Leslie returned with apple juice and saltines, she smiled in thanks and groaned as Grace muttered, “What time is it?”

“Sorry I woke you, I was just thirsty and hungry,” Christina sheepishly stated around a mouthful of cracker.

“No, it’s fine. I slept a few hours.” Grace stood and stretched. “I’ll be back. I need coffee.”

Grace stumbled from the room and Christina continued to nibble the crackers and sip the juice. Her stomach roiled and rebelled against the simple food, but she pushed it down anyway. Her baby needed whatever sustenance she could give him. About twenty minutes later, Grace came back sipping a steaming mug of coffee.

“I’m back. I brought you some more juice. I wasn’t sure if you’d want it.” Grace offered the small bottle of apple juice and Christina took it from her.

“Thanks, that was nice of you.”

“I talked to my dad while I was gone yesterday. He was shocked, as I’m sure you can understand, but said that you and the baby would be welcome in our house. Also, you were right. Papers should be drawn up, so that if anything should happen, it’s on file, that I’m his guardian.” Grace smiled as she sat down. “Dad’s gonna come up today and help me get the paperwork together. His lawyer drew some up and we’ll get them signed. He said he can get a notary in here and that way it’s all legal. But, we both agree that you’re going to be fine and we don’t need to worry about this.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Christina lied between clenched teeth, forcing a smile. “But this way, if anything ever happens he’s got a home.”

“Of course. I can understand that. You’ll be the godmother for any kids I ever have. Dad said you were smart, it’s always good to know where your children will go if anything happens. But what about the dad, Christina? Isn’t he going to want something to do with him?” Grace rested her elbows on her knees and sipped again at her coffee.

“That’s been handled,” Christina promised. “I had him sign papers saying he wanted nothing to do with him. My fear was that one day he’d suddenly want something to do with him and then try to take him. I had to protect the baby.”

“Where are those papers?” Grace asked.

“In my dorm under my mattress.” Christina explained. “They are notarized. I googled what I should do to make sure it was as legal as it could be.”

“I’m going to go get them, that way everything is together. Dad suggested putting everything into a safety deposit box. What do you think?” Grace asked.

“Sure, that’s probably a better spot than under my mattress,” Christina admitted as she took another bite of her saltine cracker.

“What are you going to do about school? Did you let them know you’re sick? They probably won’t let you keep the dorm if you’re not taking classes…” Grace finished sadly.

“I haven’t had time to let them know I’m sick. I know I can’t stay there. I shouldn’t have been there as long as I was. The doctor warned me right after Christmas that I shouldn’t go back, but I did. And I am paying for it. The stress wasn’t good for me.” Christina sighed softly and took another bite of her cracker. “But I had no other choice. The crap in the dorm is just stuff. If I lose it, I do. As long as the papers are safe I don’t care.”

“You had another choice, but you weren’t ready for it.” Grace reminded her.

“You’re right.”

“What are you going to name him?” Grace drained the last of her coffee.

A dreamy, soft smile touched Christina’s mouth. “Cain. Cain Rose Morgan.”

Grace blinked and as she realized the meaning of his middle name, she smiled. “Every wild rose…”

“Needs a place to call home.” Christina finished for her. “I felt him kick earlier.”

“Oh! How exciting!” Grace squealed. “Let me know if he does it again, I want to feel!”

“I will,” Christina promised, covering her mouth as she yawned. “I’m so tired.”

“Then sleep. I’m going to get more coffee and some fresh air. I’ll be back in a while.” Grace stood and adjusted the blankets up around Christina’s shoulders and Christina smiled gratefully.

“Thank you for being a better friend to me than I ever was to you. I love you,” she mumbled sleepily.

“I love you.”

She woke when breakfast arrived and thanked the lady who brought her cereal, toast, bacon, and eggs. The only thing she could manage to eat was half a piece of the dry toast and a few sips more of juice. The limp, lifeless bacon lying on the plate made her think of Aaliyah, and she picked up her phone to see if Addie had texted her back.

A:
Patrick says shit, that’s not good. If you need us, let us know.

C:
I will. Thank you.

The sun was slowly rising through the blinds and she watched the play of the light on the clouds. Her heart squeezed and tears filled her eyes as she watched the ascent into the sky.
What if I have a certain amount of times left I get to see something like that? I should be ticking off items on my bucket list. You know, maybe going to Ireland and getting drunk as shit, or making love on a tropical beach. Meeting a dark eyed, swarthy, beautiful man and falling in love and us living in a shack and raising babies. Writing a novel. Painting something beautiful. Living. But instead, here I sit in a hospital bed, hooked to tubes and waiting. For what I’m not sure of yet. Maybe I’ll pull through all this and end up being just fine. But what if I don’t? What if I have one hundred sunrises left. Shouldn’t I cherish each and every one? Shouldn’t they be special? What if I only have two hundred meals left? Shouldn’t they be the most delicious meals in the world, prepared by the finest chefs, instead of choking down juice and toast because my stomach won’t let me eat more?

Christina worried about what would happen if she died.
Will Cain be angry one day that I died? That I wasn’t there for him? That I risked his life with HIV? That his father wasn’t in his life? Would Grace come to hate me for putting such a burden on her? Will she hate me for what I have done and have yet to do?