Misunderstandings (Woodfalls Girls 2)

My heart stuttered as I took in the leggy blonde perched on the lap of the only guy to whom I had ever said I love you. I wanted to look away and yet, my eyes refused to move. I watched as Justin ran his hand up the back of her shirt, urging her closer so he could claim her lips. Stomach bile churned its way up my throat as I watched them play tonsil hockey for the world to see. No longer able to be in the same vicinity with him, I backed toward the door, not caring who I bumped along the way. My eyes never left the train wreck in front of me. It was as if I were witnessing a crime that I couldn’t look away from. I was almost home free when the inevitable happened.

Maybe he sensed my presence, or maybe God just felt I needed to suffer a little more.

I was almost out the door when Justin broke the kiss and looked my way. Dozens of memories flooded me as my eyes clashed with the guy who had stolen my heart so completely. A flash of something I couldn’t discern crossed his face before it was replaced by the cocky grin that had always driven me nuts. He wrapped his arms tightly around the leggy blonde, making it clear I had been replaced.

Flashing him a brittle smile to show I didn’t care, I left the apartment without a backward glance. Each step I took was painful, like I was walking across broken pieces of my own heart.

I made my way through the crowd in the hallway, toward the stairs that led to the first floor. My mind was on autopilot as I willed back my tears. Crying in front of a bunch of strangers was not an option. The stairs were almost as busy as the hallway and I had to push past several jocks who were blocking the way. I was halfway down when they decided to show off their testosterone and started shoving each other. Before I could react, someone stumbled into me, making me pitch forward. Drunken hands reached out to steady me, but they grasped uselessly at thin air as the force of the shove sent me the rest of the way down the stairs.

I hit the pavement hard, feeling all the pain to match. Several people gasped while more laughed as I landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

“Holy shit, you totally fell down the stairs,” a girl said, stating the obvious.

“No shit,” I muttered, sitting up embarrassed. Was there no end to my shame? I straightened my legs, fighting a string of curses as they protested. “Great,” I said, grimacing at the holes in the knees of my jeans. From the few lights around the apartment building, I could see both knees were glossy with blood.

“Are you okay?” the same girl asked, reaching a hand down to help me up.

“I’ll live,” I answered, grunting with pain when my scraped hand made contact with hers.

“Do you need to go the hospital?” she asked, looking concerned.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks for helping me up since the asshole who pushed me down the stairs doesn’t seem to care,” I said in the direction of the offending idiot, who was still screwing around with his buddies.

“Grant pushed you? What a dick.”

“Truth,” I said. “Thanks for your help,” I added as I started to shuffle away.

“Hey, wait. Are you sure you’re okay?” she called.

“I’m fine,” I reassured her, even though each step I took made everything hurt. My knees seemed to have taken the brunt of my fall, but my left side felt tender to the touch, cluing me that I must have landed there also. Reflecting back on my fall at least got me home without any thoughts of Justin. It was only after I had maneuvered out of my ripped jeans and took stock of the large bruise on my left side that I finally allowed Justin to enter my mind again. I stepped into a hot shower, letting the water cascade over my stinging raw skin. Everything ran through my mind at once. Justin, the baby inside me, and the decisions I needed to make. My earlier optimism had faded and I was once again indecisive about what I wanted to do.

Switching off the water, I grabbed my towel and was in the process of drying when a sharp pain speared across my abdomen, making me gasp in pain. I clutched my stomach, and a moment later the pain was gone as fast as it had come on. For the first time since my fall, I thought about the baby. I rubbed my hand possessively over my stomach, which had only recently started to bulge. Nothing noticeable when my clothes were on, but something I could feel when I tried to button my jeans, which had gotten a little snug. I sat on the toilet seat lid for several moments, making sure the pain was truly gone and not coming back. After several pain-free minutes had passed, I carefully pulled on my yoga pants and shrugged into an oversized sweatshirt. Limping out of the bathroom, I climbed onto my bed and pulled my comforter up to my chin, placing my hands on my belly as if I could protect the fetus from any more harm.

Before I fell asleep, I reflected on what this sudden possessiveness meant for the life inside me. Did it mean I had ruled out abortion? Was I committing to carry the baby for another seven months? My hands on my belly made it clear I was already starting to care. I wondered if that was a good thing. Maybe I had waited too long to make my decision. I drifted asleep to the mental picture of a baby swaddled in blankets and cradled in my arms.

My thoughts carried through to my dreams, as they were filled with images of me carrying the baby to term and preparing for birth. In the dream I could sense my excitement as I lay in a hospital bed awaiting the baby’s arrival. The scene abruptly changed and I was no longer in the same bed. Instead, I was on a sterile table with a doctor telling me they would take care of my problem. I tried to fight him, telling him I had changed my mind and wanted to have the baby. He ignored my pleas as two burly guys stepped in to restrain me. The doctor disappeared between my covered legs. I screamed in agony as his hands reached inside me.

I woke screaming with cramps seizing my belly. Groaning in pain, I wrapped my arms around my stomach, instinctively knowing what was happening. The dampness between my legs was the only verification I needed. Fear ripped through me as I flipped on the light so Melissa could help me.

My heart dropped when I discovered Melissa’s bed was empty. Not wanting to attract any attention, I reached for my phone and dialed the number for a cab company rather than call 911. The pain was steady and cramps continued to rip across my stomach as I struggled to gather my belongings. Shrugging into my heavy jacket, I headed out of my room to wait for the cab that would take me to the hospital.

The hours I spent at the hospital passed in a blur. A sympathetic doctor confirmed I had lost the baby. I watched with dry eyes as they gave me a local anesthetic and then performed a D&C to remove any remaining tissue. That was how they referred to it. Tissue. As if the thing that had thrown my world completely out of whack had been nothing more than that. My eyes burned from the tears I refused to shed. After the procedure, I was placed in a curtained-off area where I could be observed for the next few hours until they released me.

I received a text around noon from Melissa, asking where I was, while a nurse checked me over one last time. I typed a hasty message telling her I was with the doctor. She fired back immediately asking if I was okay. The nurse was in the process of telling me what to expect over the next few days as my body adjusted to the loss of the baby. My phone chirped again, signaling another message from Melissa.

“Sorry, it’s my friend,” I said as the nurse paused her instructions. I typed out a quick answer to Melissa, not even paying attention to what I had typed. The nurse waited while I finished and then continued giving me the list of things to watch for.

“You might want to text your friend and tell her you need a ride home,” she said kindly as I listened to her instructions in a daze.

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll call a cab. My friend doesn’t have a car.”

“We’d rather you had someone with you for the next twenty-four hours.”

“She’ll meet me at my dorm,” I promised, gathering my belongings.

“Are you sure?” she said skeptically.

“Promise,” I said, ready to leave. The knot in my throat from holding back my tears was to the point of becoming painful. An orderly wheeled me outside and helped me into the waiting cab. I needed to make it home and then I could cry. I was scared that if I started now, I wouldn’t be able to stop as I thought about how empty my body suddenly felt.