Sweet Nothing(81)

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.”