Sweet Nothing (38 page)

Josh’s theory about curses might not have been so farfetched after all.

“This isn’t happening,” I cried. The flashes, the hallucinations, the headaches—it had all started since the wedding. “This is just a bad dream,” I said, sucking in several breaths. A new cry ripped from my throat. “I just want to wake up.” I slumped over, touching my head to the steering wheel. “I just want to wake up.”

I closed my eyes, seeing flashes of the hospital room, and I blinked, looking around the Dodge. Maybe Josh was right. Maybe I was going crazy. Everything had felt off since the accident. Maybe I was imagining things. Crazy people didn’t know they were crazy.

My blurred vision came into focus, and I noticed a small copper circle at my feet. I reached down, picking up the dull penny and clenching it in my palm.

My breathing faltered, and a wail bubbled from my chest, piercing the night. Two bright lights came closer, and I held my breath, closing my eyes.

I woke up panting with fear, gripping handles on either side of my hospital bed. Beeps surrounded me on every side, and I looked down. My scrubs were gone, and I was dressed in a hospital gown. I reached down to feel my flat stomach. Penny was gone, too.

I cried out, covering my face, and Michaels ran in. “Avery?”

I could only cry.

Michaels called frantically down the hall. “She’s awake! Avery’s awake!” Michaels ran in, checking my vitals. “Do you know where you are?” she asked, her voice smooth and soothing.

“The hospital,” I said. “Is the baby okay?”

Michaels’ eyebrows pulled in, and my heart broke.

A female doctor rushed in, with shiny dark hair that barely brushed her shoulders and a large mole on one side of her chin.

She flashed a pen-sized light in my eyes, from one to the other, and then turned it off, plugging her stethoscope into her ear. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Avery … Avery,” I said, wincing from the light.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Avery. I’m Dr. Weaver. You’ve been in a car accident.”

I frowned, confused.

“We’ve been waiting for you to come back to us.” She rubbed the diaphragm of the stethoscope on her white coat and slid it under my gown against my chest. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

I did as she instructed.

“Is Penny … is the baby okay?” My voice faltered, afraid to even speak her name aloud.

Dr. Weaver pulled the stethoscope from her ears. “Avery, we still have some tests to do, but we need to have a conversation. It could be shocking.”

My bottom lip quivered, and then I covered my face, feeling tears slip between my fingers. “Can someone call my husband?”

Dr. Weaver glanced back at Michaels and then touched my shoulder. “Avery …” she said, her voice thick with concern. “You’re not married.”

I looked up and blinked. “Yes, I am.”

Michaels frowned and looked at Dr. Weaver.

I pointed to Michaels, the IV tugging on my hand. “Call my husband. Please. He’s probably worried sick. I have to tell him about Penny. I have to tell him what I’ve done,” I said. I began to wail, and Dr. Weaver patted my leg.

“Give her a mild sedative. I need a full blood work-up and another CT. I want to see how the bruising has healed.”

“Bruising?” I asked as Michaels left the room. “Is that what’s been wrong with me?”

Dr. Weaver offered a comforting smile. “You’ve been asleep for quite a while, Avery. Your body has been healing.”

I looked at her, feeling something dark and frightening weighing on my chest. “Please find my husband.”

She pressed her lips together, empathetic to the fear in my eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

I sat in the dark room alone, the same room I’d seen so many times in the flashes. The same wallpaper that covered the rooms in Step-Down, the same room I’d woken in after the accident. I looked around for my phone, my purse, anything. All that surrounded me were monitors, machines, and ugly wallpaper.

Michaels stood in the doorway, her silhouette outlined on the floor. “Avery? Do you remember Deb?”

I wiped my face. “Yes, can you call her?”

“She’s here. Can she come in?”

I nodded, watching as Deb stepped into the room. She covered her mouth and then rushed to kneel next to me.

She grabbed my hand in both of hers. She had lost weight, and her hair was a bit longer.

“Jesus Christ, partner, you took the longest nap ever.”

“Please call Josh for me,” I said. “I don’t have my phone, and I know he’s worried sick.”

“Josh?” Deb asked, shaking her head.

“Yes, Josh. Why is everyone being so
weird
?”

“Josh Avery?” she asked, watching me with concern in her eyes.

“Deb, stop! I’m freaking out here.”

“Avery,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soothing. “Josh is down the hall.”

I sat up. “Then tell him I’m awake! Why won’t anyone go get him?” I thought for a moment, and then sat back. “He doesn’t want to see me. He told me not to leave, and I lost the baby. He hates me, doesn’t he?”

“Honey,” she paused, clearly trying to find the right words. “Josh is in his own room, down the hall.”

I gripped her arm. “He’s hurt? Deb! Take me to him!”

Michaels injected my IV port with the sedative Dr. Weaver had prescribed.

“No!” I said, fighting her.

She finished pushing the meds and stepped back, looking both sad and confused.

“No!” I looked to Deb. “I need to see him.”

“Rest, honey,” she said, running her hand over my hair. “Rest. You can see him when you wake up.”

“I’ve been resting! I want to see my husband!”

Deb gasped and looked up at Michaels. Michaels shook her head and left the room.

My eyes grew heavy, and then I fell into darkness. I didn’t cry, I didn’t feel, I didn’t dream. I only slept.

When I awoke, I could only recall a moment of panic before I had been sedated. Deb was sitting in a chair, flipping through the pages of Cosmopolitan.

The sheets slid against the mattress when I sat up, and Deb dropped her magazine, hurrying to help.

“Morning, sunshine,” she said. “Want me to open the blinds?”

I nodded.

She walked over to the window and twisted a long, horizontal rod, letting in the bright sun and revealing a large billboard for J.C. Penney.

I squinted until my eyes adjusted, and reached for my necklace. “I left it.”

“What?” Deb said, sitting next to me on the bed.

“My penny necklace Josh gave me. We fought. I left it behind when I stormed out on him.”

Deb seemed uncomfortable and searched for something else to say. “Dr. Weaver was in this morning. All of your tests came back great. They’re going to move you to the second floor today.”

“To rehab?” I asked.

Deb pulled her mouth to the side. “You need to build back muscle in your legs, Avery. It won’t take long. Water?” she asked, pouring some into a large mug before I answered.

I looked out the window, feeling emotion weigh down on me. I had been so quick to walk out on my life with Josh the day before. Now I would do anything to find my way back.

I touched my stomach, feeling more alone than I ever had. I had lost my parents. I had lost friends. This was much, much worse. Tears filled my eyes and spilled over my cheeks.

“Dr. Weaver has scheduled Dr. Livingston and Dr. Brock for this afternoon.”

“Who are they?” I sniffed.

“Dr. Livingston is the neurologist.” She hesitated. “Dr. Brock is a psychiatrist.” When I began to protest, Deb held my hand in both of hers. “No one is judging you, Avery. Your little body has been through so much. It’s really a miracle that you survived at all. Your brain had to do what it had to do to distract you while you healed. There is so much about the brain that we don’t know. It’s important that you tell them everything.”

“I just want my husband.” I pulled my hands from hers, covering my face. My chest and face hurt from the hours of tearfully mourning my daughter.

Deb only nodded, sympathy in her eyes.

“Deb,” I said, warning her with my tone. “Will you take me to see Josh?”

“I can,” she said, sad. “But it will upset you.”

“Take me,” I said. Josh would be the only thing to calm me down.

Deb brushed my greasy hair and braided it, and then she held a cup of water while I brushed my teeth.

“Here,” she said, handing me a warm washcloth. “Wash your face while I get a chair.”

I rubbed the warm terrycloth over my face, feeling it evaporate and cool while I worked it over my skin. I wasn’t going to look in the mirror. I didn’t want to.

Deb wheeled in my ride, pressing the brakes down and lifting up the foot pedals. She used her upper body strength to lift me up and pivot, and with incredible control, she lowered me back into the seat.

“All set?” She unplugged my IV and held it in one hand, gripping the handle of my chair in the other.

I nodded, feeling her push forward. When we cleared the threshold of my room and broke into the hallway, something inside me clicked into place. The feeling that something was out of place or missing was gone.

Deb passed four rooms and then paused. “Are you sure, Avery? I really think you should give yourself more time. You’re confused, and …”

“I’m sure,” I said, reaching for the doorjamb.

With some difficulty, I pulled myself through the doorway and into the room. All the wind was knocked out of me as I scanned over Josh’s body. He was on his back, hooked up to as many tubes and machines as I had been, his eyes closed, his chest moving up and down only by the ventilator.

I reached
for his hand. His fingers felt foreign in mine, and the gold band I’d given him on our wedding day was missing. I held up my own hand, which was also bare.
Why couldn’t I have just listened? He wanted to tell me more. That Hope …
A sinking feeling overcame me. Hope had done her laundry at the house. She had wanted Josh all along. She had planted the panties. That’s what he was trying to tell me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. I glanced back at Deb. “What happened?”

“You were both on your way home from work. You pulled out into the intersection in front of a semi, and your car was knocked back into Josh’s. The cars were a mangled mess.”

“No, Deb, what happened
this
time?”

“That
is
what happened this time, Avery. His partner, Quinn, said when he arrived on the scene, you were both unconscious, but your vehicles were mashed in such a way that your fingertips were touching.”

“His partner Quinn,” I said, scanning over Josh’s sleeping face. “You mean your
boyfriend
, Quinn?”

Deb looked down at me, amused. She pulled my braid over my shoulder. “No, honey. Ew.”

“What do you mean no? You’ve been dating Quinn for almost two years.”

Deb chuckled, but when she realized I was serious, her brows pulled together. She shook her head slowly.

“Yes,” I said, leaning forward, holding Josh’s hand tight. “Josh, wake up. You have to tell them. I’m not crazy.”

I looked up at Deb. “What happened to Penny?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “Who’s Penny?”

“Our baby. Josh’s and mine. I was thirty-one weeks pregnant, Deb.”

Deb tried to back out my wheelchair, but I gripped Josh’s blanket in my hand. She knelt down beside me. “Avery, you weren’t pregnant. You weren’t married to this guy,” she said, pointing to Josh.

“Stop it,” I said, feeling panic building.

“You two were in the same accident, and you’ve both been in comas.”

I shook my head and tucked my chin. “You’re lying.”

“Avery,” she said, touching my arm. “Why would I lie about something so hurtful? You’ve been unconscious for seven weeks.”

“Seven weeks?” I said. “I’ve been with Josh for two years. We were dating. We got engaged. I remember the wedding and the day we found out we were pregnant. It wasn’t a dream, Deb. I would know the difference between a dream and a memory. It happened.” I looked at Josh, desperate. “Please wake up. Please wake up and tell them. I’m so afraid.”