Coda (Songs of Submission #9)(45)

“I don’t care. I can’t go back there. I can’t. Let’s go to Hollywood Methodist.”

“It’s a different ward entirely.”

“Do you know how far out of my way I go to not drive past it? And it’s on Beverly, so yeah, I’d rather be late than see it. I’d rather go to the urgent care clinic on Sunset. I’d rather see the witch doctor in Silver Lake than go anywhere near that hospital. It smells like death. It’s hell. Nine stories of f*cking hell, and I won’t go.”

Jonathan looked at me for a second then back at Lil. “Drive.”

“Jonathan!” I said as Lil closed the door. I tried to get up, but he pulled me down.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I know how you feel. Believe me, I get it. But that was enough blood to scare the hell out of me, and it wasn’t enough to convince me this is completely over. If we lose this baby because we went to a second-rate hospital or nowhere at all, because we were scared… well, I’d like to know how you’re going to forgive yourself. Because you’re going to have to teach me.”

I looked away from him. His gaze was going to break me. It was a wall of resolve. He was doing what he wanted to do, and I had to go along. From my angle on his lap, all I could see was the grey-blue glass of the sky, streetlights, and telephone poles zipping by. A speck of bird or plane.

He was right.

Fear was fungible, and death was forever. Overcome one to face the other. Blah blah. I didn’t want him to be right. I wanted to fall down a hole of despair or climb a pillar of hope, and reason and rationality were distractions from the choice.

Reaching for the hope, I touched his face. “I’m sure it’s fine. We’re just overreacting.”

“I hope so.”

“Didn’t Jessica miscarry? What happened?”

He turned toward the window. “We were throwing an event at the house. Some fundraiser for the artist co-op she was in. She just takes my hand and brings me into the house. Doesn’t break a beat. I’m following her, and I can see the blood inside her stockings. I picked her up and carried her to the car, but it was too late. It was a mess before we even got there. So much blood. I never saw her cry except in the front seat of my car. The pain was so bad, and you know, I asked her how long it had hurt before she told me.”

“Could they have saved it?”

“The doctor wouldn’t guarantee anything, but just said that next time we should come right away.”

I relaxed into that, watching the fancy streetlights of Santa Monica turn into the more urban, less fussy designs of the west side of LA. “I had pain yesterday, but I thought I had the flu.”

“Let’s see what happens.”

“If we lose it, do we try again?”

“I don’t know.”

That didn’t help. If he pulled back from getting what he wanted most, what he’d always wanted most, then I didn’t know who he was anymore.

“Did you try again with Jessica?” I flinched from my own question. It sounded petty and mean. Our situations couldn’t have been more different. But I wanted to know what to expect from him. Did he give up or truck on?

If he heard the question as cutting, he didn’t show it. “We both got checked out. I was fine, but her uterus had a shape that made it hard for her to go to term. We were fine, but it never took again. In a way, it improved things between us for a while.”

I cupped his face in my hands, and he looked down at me then leaned over and kissed me.

“This won’t end us,” he said. “I swear, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m keeping you.”

The car stopped.

“I’m ready,” I said. “If you stay by me. I’m ready.”

Lil opened the door, and Jonathan carried me through the sliding glass doors into Sequoia Hospital. Hell on earth. I closed my eyes, but the smell was still there, and the ambient noise. When something somewhere beeped, I clung to him.

chapter 33.

JONATHAN

I’d called ahead while gathering our clothes, and I was able to carry her right up to the second floor. We were offered a gurney outside the elevator, and I put her on it, insisting even when she clutched me. She weighed nothing to me. I could have carried her ten more miles, but I knew hospitals better than I wanted to, and she needed to be on the gurney.

We exited onto the maternity ward. The first thing I heard was people laughing, and I looked down at Monica to see if she heard it. I thought it would relax her. Maternity wards were gentle places with better results than the parts of the hospital she’d been stuck in for weeks.

Her eyes were clamped shut, as if she were a child who didn’t want to see anything scary. I was about to make some wisecrack about ocean views and a full buffet. Describe the dancing girls and rare art she was missing. Anything to calm her down. A chuckle. Even if she slapped me and told me to shut up, it would have been preferable to seeing her coiled in dread.

“Mister Drazen,” a young woman in blue scrubs said.

“Are you Dr. Blakely?” I asked. It had taken Dr. Solis seconds to recommend this young woman with the flat brown ponytail above all others.

“Yes. Dr. Solis told me you’d be coming.” She looked at Monica. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” my wife lied.