All I could do was give her the space she wanted, and make sure she wasn’t sick from the gas leak. I took her to the ER, the same entrance where I’d dropped Brody off a week ago to check on my sister. This time, I parked in the fire lane and rounded the car, helped her out and charged in demanding a wheelchair.
“You can’t park there,” she said faintly.
“I’m a fireman,” I said, “let them fucking say something.”
A security guard came out to wave me off. I rounded on him and said, “My wife was in a gas leak. She needs to be examined now.”
“Sir, they’ll tow your car.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “I’m not leaving her. Here’s the keys. If they want it moved, they can move it.”
I badgered the registration clerk and shoved my insurance card at her and insisted on following when they took Trixie back to the cubicle to be examined.
“Sir, you can’t go in during the exam,” a nurse told me.
“That’s my wife,” I argued.
“Rules are rules,” she said wryly, “we get plenty of domestic disputes in here and women get examined without their partners. No exceptions. Wanna complain? We got security.” She crossed her arms. I stepped back and went to sit in the waiting room.
“Tell her I’m waiting,” I said.
I sat in the plastic chair and stared at the floor tiles. I wasn’t capable of making a call or sending a message. I was vibrating with fear, with tension. After half an hour, the same nurse came out.
“Are you here with Trixie Owens?”
“Vance. Her name is Trixie Vance,” I said. “Yes.”
“You can go back now. She’s in the first exam cube.”
I slid the curtain back and saw her lying on a narrow gurney, a cotton blanket over her. She was on her side, curled up, and she’d been crying.
“I can go home,” she said. “I’m going to be fine.”
I went and sat on the edge of the gurney and took her hand and kissed it, “I’ll do anything,” I said. “You were going to leave me, weren’t you? I knew when you didn’t answer my call you were done. But I want to try again, just tell me what we need to work on. Is it my work schedule? Is it—do you need more help at the shop or do we need to get counseling or something?”
Trixie buried her face in her hands and turned away from me. A doctor came in and looked at me like I was doing something wrong. I climbed off the gurney and sat in a chair, aggravated and worried.
“Good news is I can give you the all-clear today. No ill effects from the gas exposure and your blood count numbers are good. The bad news is, your math is wrong. Your estimate of four or five weeks… looks more like eight or nine weeks to me,” he said. “Do you have an OB appointment yet?”
She sat bolt upright, shook her head, eyes wide.
“OB appointment?” I asked, my eyes flicking from the doctor to my wife.
“I have one for Friday morning,” Trixie said weakly.
“The nurse will be in to give you discharge instructions. Keep taking your vitamins and get plenty of rest,” he said. Then he left.
I was back on the bed in an instant.
“OB appointment?”
“I’m so sorry, Damon,” she said, and started crying again.
“Trix?”
“I’m pregnant. I found out in Savannah. It’s why I didn’t call you. I couldn’t tell you on the phone. I didn’t want you to find out this way. You’re mad, I get it. But I didn’t mean for it to happen, I swear I’ve been on the pill this whole time. I didn’t—do this on purpose. To trap you. I know how it looks.”
“How it looks? It looks like you’re pregnant and you were afraid to tell me.”
I swept her into my arms, her palm on my shoulder blade, holding on tight. I kissed her and kissed her.
“God help me, I thought you were leaving me. Were you leaving me?”
She shook her head, “I don’t understand. Aren’t you done with me?”
“I thought you were done with me,” I said. “That all you wanted was a fling and you were over it.”
“I’m not over it. Not by a long shot.”
“Good, because neither am I. I’m taking you home,” I said.
25
Trixie
He held my hand all the way home. He took me into the house and locked the door. Then he was pressing me up against it, kissing me. All I could do was hold on and suck his tongue deeper in my mouth and admit to myself how much I’d missed him, how much I’d missed this connection with him.
“I should’ve told you,” I gasped. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you still dizzy?”
“No, why?”
“Because I’m about to put my mouth between your legs and I don’t want you to fall.”