“Are you having pain?”
So much pain. But that’s all in my heart, and I’m pretty sure she’s talking about my pregnancy. The babies. I try to concentrate on my physical body but there’s a weird disconnect happening that I’ve never experienced before. When I concentrate really hard, I feel faint traces of that familiar stabbing in my stomach and at my spine.
I wince and Elle’s eyes go wide. “Okay, that’s it—I’m gonna go and get a nurse.”
Before I can argue, she does the same as Pol did and disappears, racing out of the room as though I’m in imminent danger. It certainly feels that way, but as far as medicine goes, I’m not sure a broken heart qualifies.
The longer I lie there, the sharper the pain becomes. And by the time Grigory runs in with a nurse in tow, I’m actually relieved. The nurse isn’t familiar. She’s got dark brown eyes and jet black hair. She’s also got a nose ring that I would have appreciated a lot more if it hadn’t been for the stabbing pain that’s starting to push in on either side of my stomach.
“Alyssa, are you okay? What’s going on?”
I wince, the pain taking my voice hostage. Luckily, Elle is there, ready to speak for me. “She… Um, Uri was here a few minutes ago. I think they had a fight. She had a little freakout—” Did I? Is that what we’re calling it? “—and then she just got really pale and quiet. Something’s not right.”
“Okay,” Dr. Grigory says, all business. “Let’s check her vitals. We might be seeing the first signs of fetal distress.”
No.
I so desperately wanted to give both my babies their best chance of survival. Add that to the long list of things I’ve failed at before I’ve even started.
Marriage.
Pregnancy.
Motherhood.
Failure, failure, failure.
Elle grabs my hand and keeps a tight hold on it as Dr. Grigory and his nurse hook me up to machines, measure this, check on that. It seems to go on forever. And then—
Dr. Grigory turns to me. How have I not noticed how sandy his eyes are before now? Quicksand eyes, dragging me down… “Okay, we’re going to need to perform an emergency C-section. These babies need to be delivered immediately.” He turns to his nurse. “Prep her for surgery.”
Elle looks between me and the doctor helpless. “No. Wait! The father—”
The door to my room bursts open and a few more nurses come in, pushing a gurney between them.
“The father’s not coming, Elle,” I say so softly that it’s a wonder she can hear me at all. “Uri’s not interested. I’m on my own with this one.”
Elle’s face ripples with determination. “No, you’re not. I’m going to be with you. I won’t leave your side.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to,” Dr. Grigory says gently. “No one is allowed in the operating room except medical staff.”
“Can’t you make an exception?” Elle demands. “She needs me.”
“I’m afraid not,” Dr. Grigory insists as I’m transferred onto a gurney.
“But—”
I grab Elle’s hand and squeeze as tightly as I can. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll be okay. I can do this.”
She doesn’t look confident. She looks ghost-white and fidgety. “Alyssa—”
“This is for my babies,” I choke out despite how much energy it’s costing me to speak. “I can do this… for them.”
A tear slips down her cheek. “W-what about Uri?”
I know what she’s asking and the simple truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know if telling him I need him is the right thing—or if telling him to fuck off forever is better. I’m too emotional and in too much pain to decide what I really want or why I really want it. And that’s assuming the universe even gives a damn about whether or not I want what’s coming. It might just force it on me anyway.
I keep my eyes on her. “I’ll be fine,” I promise as they wheel me out of the room.
My head lolls back against the pillow and I keep my eyes on the moving ceiling. No, wait. The ceiling isn’t moving; I’m moving. I can hear beeping in the distance, voices raised in urgency, the tangy smell of Lysol and dirty mop water.
It’s the same smell that invaded my nostrils every time I stepped into the hospital with Ziva. I still remember her leaning over to me with a secretive, ghoulish smile and whispering in my ear, It’s the only way to cover up the smell of me rotting from the inside out.