Forgiving Paris: A Novel(6)

“That’s what I thought.” Fran made a note in the chart.

For the first time since Alice started using, she didn’t feel judged. She relaxed into the bed. This nurse probably saw people like Alice all the time. Her feet and hands started shaking. Or maybe they’d been shaking. “Please… can… can you give me a… a hit? Just… just one.”

Nurse Fran stood and touched the side of Alice’s head. “You know I can’t do that.” She smiled, and there was something different about the woman. A light and certainty. “We’re going to get you better.”

Alice wanted to throw up. No more heroin? She would have to find a way out of here, slip through a window maybe. She wouldn’t feel okay until she got the next needle. The nurse couldn’t possibly understand.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Alice?” Fran held Alice’s chart to her chest. She waited.

Then Alice remembered and her shaking hand returned to her belly. “I…” If the baby had lived, it would’ve been Benji’s. He was the only one. She closed her eyes again. “I was pregnant. Before… before I overdosed.”

Fran nodded. “You’re still pregnant, Alice.”

A wave of nausea rushed through her gut and her head pounded. “I’m… I’m still…?”

“Yes.” Fran put her hand on Alice’s shoulder. “You’ve been here five days, Alice.” The woman paused. “Would you like to hear what happened that night?”

Not really, Alice thought. But maybe she should. “Yes. Please.”

“Your friend must’ve known you were overdosing, because he was experiencing the same thing.”

Benji had overdosed, too? Alice’s heartbeat picked up speed. And how had he gotten a cell phone? Must’ve been one of those cheap throwaways. “I… I remember taking my last breath.”

“An officer was fifty feet away, about to check out the homeless camp. He heard your friend yelling and he rushed up in time to give you Narcan. Your friend wasn’t doing well, but he pointed at you. He wanted you to have it.”

Alice sat up straighter. “What happened to him? To Benji?”

For a few seconds the nurse didn’t say anything. She looked down at Alice’s chart and then back at Alice. “He didn’t make it. I’m… I’m so sorry. The officer had just one dose of Narcan on him and by the time backup came… It was too late.”

“No.” Alice was screaming on the inside, but her voice was only a whisper. “Not Benji!” She rolled onto her side and buried her face in her pillow. “Not Benji!”

“He had identification on him. We… were able to notify his parents. Benji is home, Alice. He’s finally home.” The nurse stepped away from the bed. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit. When I come back, we’ll make a plan to get you better.” She hesitated. “Your baby needs you, Alice.”

Benji’s baby. The child who would never know a father now, all because Benji had asked the police officer to save her life over his own. She pictured Benji, holding her, caring for her. He would do anything for her, and he had. He had given his life for hers. For hers and the tiny baby he had known nothing about. Alice’s tears came then, and sobs took over until her sides heaved. Poor Benji. He had never made things right with his family, never found his way past the drug.

But there was something Alice hated even more than that. The man who had been her friend and lover had died without hearing the words Alice had always meant to say. Her true feelings for Benji.

She loved him, she did. But she had never told him.

And now it was too late.





CURRENT DAY 3





Ready or not, Ashley Baxter Blake was finally going to have an art show in Paris. She and her sister Kari had been out shopping for a suitcase, and now they walked up the front porch steps of Ashley’s Indiana home and made their way inside.

“All you have to do now is get those paintings shipped and pack.” Kari’s eyes sparkled. “You must be practically bursting, Ash. Paris! Can you believe it?”

Ashley didn’t say anything. She led the way into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Then she turned to her sister and made a few circles in the air with her index finger. “Yippee.”

“No.” Kari’s smile faded. “Not again, Ashley. Please.” She set her purse down and came closer. “You and Landon are celebrating eighteen years. This trip, the art show, it’s all happening at the perfect time.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Ashley sighed. “Maybe if I get the paintings shipped.” She motioned for Kari to follow her. “Come look at my paintings. I have to send twenty of them out tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Kari sounded optimistic. “That’s the spirit. You need this trip, Ash. You do.”

Ashley nodded. She’d been dodging the issue of how she felt about Paris ever since the gallery called and asked her to do a show. She could still hear the woman’s voice.

This is Emilie Love, owner of Light of the Seine art gallery in Paris. The woman had explained that the shop used to be called Montmartre Gallery, where Ashley had worked twenty-three years ago. Now it was in the Marais district in the fourth arrondissement. We’d love to showcase your work.