Through the Windshield Glass (9 page)

I stumbled up
the path to Maria's porch and rang the doorbell. I stood there, shivering, for
about half a minute before the door swung wide. Light fell over me, and I must
have been a sight to see because Maria gasped and took a step back. She looked
just the same as she had when we were seventeen. She was still thin as a twig,
and tall as a tree, with hair that would make Rapunzel jealous.

"Maria,"
I said, "It's me, Alice."

"I know
who you are," Maria said, "I just don't know why you're here,"

Not a good
sign, she didn't look angry though so I kept going, "I've run into some
hard times, my family kicked me out, my husband left me, and--and I'm pregnant.
I have nowhere to go, and I need a place to stay, I was hoping you might have
room..." I trailed off.

"Do you
not remember what happened?" Maria asked, "Don’t you remember what
you did to me? You stole Daman away from me! He was my boyfriend, I was in love
with him and you took him away from me! Why would I want
you
of all
people in my house? Especially, if you're carrying his child!"

"I—I
didn't do any of that," I stammered.

"Typical,
selfish, Alice," Maria said, she looked mad now, "You think you can
just waltz over here and ask me for help after you drove me into depression and
I almost killed myself. No, you know what? You deserve what you got; it's about
time you got hit with some bad luck!"

Maria slammed
the door in my face. I was left standing there on the porch wondering how I
could have done any of the things Maria had described. I would never do that to
her, if she were dating Daman I wouldn't have the courage to tear them apart; I
wouldn't have been able to do that to Maria, let alone myself. I couldn't have
lived with the guilt of it. But apparently, when you're meant to be miserable,
you're also meant to do things to deserve that misery.

I was left with
no choice. I had to resort to plan B. I didn't like it, but it was going to
have to happen. I couldn't sleep out here in this cold, I would freeze to
death. I took a deep breath of frigid night air and walked to the end of Maria's
lawn. After a moment of searching I found a good sized rock. I took aim at a
large window, the one in the sitting room at the front of Maria's house, and
threw it. The rock hit the window hard and the resulting sound was torrential.
The glass rained down, sounding like jingle bells on the rocks below.

I waited at the
end of Maria’s lawn; within moments she was at the empty hole that used to be
her window. It only took her a moment to sum up what had happened, she already
had the phone in hand and was calling the police. I shrugged, sat down on the
curb and waited. This was my plan B. This is what I was subjecting myself to,
because I had nowhere else to sleep.

Soon the police
arrived, a cop got out of her car, and came up to me, it was a, “Are you the
one who threw the rock at the window?” she asked.

“Yes,” I
replied, simply.

“I’m afraid
we’re going to have to take you downtown for the night at least,” the cop said.

“Fine,” I
replied. I popped up off the sidewalk and began walking to the police car. The
cop looked stunned. I doubt she’d ever had someone so willing to be arrested
before.

“Are you
drunk?” Maria yelled from her porch.

“Not even
close,” I replied with a wave, “I just always hated that window.”

I swear Maria
almost smiled at that, but the twitch of her mouth was gone in the blink of an
eye.

The policewoman
opened the back door of the car for me. I was becoming more and more of the
wild child Daman had jokingly called me when we first met. Just in time, the
policewoman remembered to cuff me and mumble out my rights, before helping me
into the back of the car.

Without
thinking, I tried to wave to Maria through the tinted window of the cop car. I
know she didn’t see me, but she watched as we pulled away and when I turned
around to look at her, still standing there on her porch, she had raised one
hand in solemn farewell. I almost laughed to myself. This wasn’t so miserable.
I still felt good from the soup, and I was going to have a semi warm place to
sleep, even if the toilet was open to public view. Maybe I had read the door
wrong. Maybe there was small print under Misery, that said ‘with a side of
silver lining’. Apparently too much wishful thinking was an invitation for more
misery to set in.

Chapter Fourteen

I was waltzed
into the police station and made to sit in an uncomfortable wooden chair, while
I waited for the cop at the front desk to get off the phone. After a little
while, the cop hung up his call and looked at me. I noticed his name tag said
Parker

“Well,” he
said, “I have good news for you, Ms. Patterson. Ms. Cole isn’t going to press
charges; you’re free to go,”

I didn’t see
that coming, my jaw dropped, “I don’t even have to stay here overnight? I mean
I broke someone’s window, on purpose!”

Officer Parker
laughed, “You sound like you actually wanted to be here.”

I laughed too,
with absolutely no enthusiasm, “No,” I said, “Of course not, I just thought…”

“Well, is there
anyone I can call for you? Do you need a ride back to your house?” Parker
asked.

“No,” I said,
“I don’t--I-- I’m fine, I’ll walk, it’s not too far.”

“Are you sure,
I could give you a ride, you don’t even have to ride in the back?” Officer
Parker said, I liked him, he was friendly, and I knew he was just trying to
help.

“Well, I
actually don’t really have anywhere to go,” I said quickly.

“Surely there
has to be somewhere,” Officer Parker said.

I shook my head
and launched into my story.

Parker just sat
there and listened to me quietly, when I had finished he took a deep breath and
looked around. We were completely alone; it was too late for anyone but him to
be here.

“That’s quite a
story,” Officer Parker said, running a hand through his thinning black hair, “I
suppose you
could
stay here for the night, but I’d have to book you.”

I felt myself
smiling, “Really?”

“I’m sorry,”
Officer Parker said a little loudly, he winked at me, “But you committed a
crime, you’re going to have to stay here for the night.”

I smiled even
wider, “Thank you,” I mouthed.

Officer Parker
nodded and stood up to escort me to a holding cell. Maybe I had gone through a
door without knowing it, maybe my luck was about to turn.

I remember
walking into the holding cell, Officer Parker slammed the door behind me with
another wink and left. I walked over to the bed, laid down and fell asleep
faster than I thought was humanly possible.

I was awakened
by a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. I couldn’t even move. I put my hand to my
stomach and found it swollen. There was no way my baby could have grown that
quickly overnight, something was wrong.

“Officer
Parker,” I called out in a panicked voice. No one came, “Officer Parker!”

A few moments
later, Officer Parker came skidding around the corner, he saw me lying in bed,
saw how distressed I looked and immediately knew I wasn’t just yelling at him
because of cravings or maternal mood swings.

“I can’t move,”
I said, “there’s something wrong,”

Officer Parker
fumbled for his cell phone and dialed 911.

“Hello? Hello?
Yes, I need help! I’m Officer Parker of the Carson City Police Department. I
need an ambulance here right away.”

Officer Parker
went silent for a moment, “This woman, she passed out in our lobby, I carried
her to a bed in a holding cell, she just woke up, she’s pregnant and in pain.
She says she can’t move.”

I silently
thanked Officer Parker for tactfully avoiding the fact that I had actually
asked to be arrested.

Another jolt of
pain rocked my body, my back arched and I broke out into a sweat.

"Hurry!"
Officer Parker yelled into the phone. He rushed over to me, "Can you
breathe okay?"

I nodded; my
breathing was fine, if a little shallow. I was just in so much pain!

"The
ambulance will be here soon, okay?" Officer Parker said.

I nodded again.
I tried not to focus on the pain; I closed my eyes and tried to think of
happier things. None came. I opened my eyes again, and stared up at the
cracking ceiling. Soon I heard the whine of the ambulance.

I saw Officer
Parker breathe a sigh of relief; I think he was more afraid for me than I was.
He got up and ran out of the cell to guide the paramedics to me.

"She's
right in here," I heard Officer Parker say. Within seconds I saw two
paramedics rounding the corner with a stretcher.

"We're
going to put you on this, now," one of the paramedics said, "It could
hurt."

I didn't
respond. I just closed my eyes and let them work. I felt two pairs of hands
carefully lifting me off the bed and depositing me on the stretcher. It did
hurt, a lot, but I kept silent. The last thing they needed was a panicked
patient. Besides, I couldn't be panicked; it hurt to do anything but lie
completely still.

The ride in the
ambulance was agonizing, I found myself wishing Officer Parker had been able to
come with me; a familiar face would have been helpful. I didn't tell the
paramedics this though. I let them do their job. They poked me with needles, kept
me awake, and checked my vitals frequently.

Then one of the
paramedics saw something, he motioned for the other to join him at the end of
the stretcher.

They looked at
each other in a way that told me this was more serious than I had thought.

"We need you
to lie completely still," one of the paramedics said, I couldn't tell
which from my angle. His tone frightened me.

"Will the
baby be okay?" I asked through my heavy breathing.

Neither of the
paramedics would answer me. We arrived at the hospital; I was pulled out of the
back of the ambulance and rolled to the ER.

"What's
wrong?" I asked again, I was starting to get panicked. Not a good thing
when you're in pain and possibly dying again.

"Lie
still," a nurse who had come to the side of my stretcher said. I was taken
to a curtained off section of the ER where an ultrasound machine had been set
up. I just laid there while the nurse spread petroleum jelly on my stomach and
started probing.

"You were
right," the nurse called, I assume to the paramedics, "We're going to
have to operate, honey," she said to me.

“Operate?
Why?" I asked, my voice was weak and I knew my situation was quickly
becoming more desperate.

"You have
what's called an ectopic pregnancy, the baby isn't growing where it should be,
we're going to have to abort or you'll die," the nurse was using her most
sympathetic and calming voice, but it didn't work.

"No,"
I groaned, but a dying woman's argument is often ignored if there is a way to
save her life. My bed started to move, the last thing I saw was the doors of
the OR opening in front of my eyes, and then I blacked out.

I woke up in a
sterile hospital room; tubes were running out of my left arm, my burned right
hand was bandaged. At first I couldn't remember why I was there, and then a
tiny twinge of pain in my stomach made me remember. Carefully, I reached my
hand under the covers and felt my stomach. Flat, nothing there, not even a tiny
bump to reveal that I had been pregnant.

Everything
hurt, emotionally and physically, I just wanted to go back to my hallway and
stay there forever, escaping wasn’t worth going through anything like this
again. I started crying, silently at first but raucous sobs eventually brought
the same nurse I had seen earlier running in. She held me while I cried, gently
rocking me back and forth like my mom used to when I was upset. She didn't try
to tell me everything was okay, she didn't try to make light of the situation
by telling me that I was at least alive, she just let me sob. Even though she
knew it must be hurting me, even though she knew that the crying wouldn't help,
even though she knew I should be getting rest and not wreaking more havoc on my
already weak body she just let me cry myself dry.

Finally, I
hiccupped back another sob and sat up straight. I looked at the nurse's scrubs,
evidence of my tears were obvious there.

"I'm
sorry," I said through a stuffy nose.

"It's
nothing," the nurse said, with a smile, "What would you have named
it?"

I thought about
it for a minute, I brushed a few stray tears away from my face, "If it
were a boy, I would have named him Daman, after his father, if it were a girl,
Jane, I think."

"Those are
beautiful," the nurse said, "I'm Katelyn, if you need anything, just
hit the nurse's button."

"Thank
you," I murmured. Katelyn left.

I felt
completely empty, drained of all emotion, "Is this enough yet,
James?" I asked.

In answer, the
door of my room slowly changed. It went from blue, plain metal, to a familiar
black door; one proclaiming itself to be full of woe.

I smiled;
finally, I had done what I had to do.

I ripped the
tubes out of my arm, swung my legs out of the hospital bed and crossed to the
door. I took one last deep breath of clean air, before opening the door and
stepping through.

Chapter Fifteen

I expected
James to be waiting for me in the hall; he wasn’t. I expected to feel better; I
didn’t. I sighed and took inventory of myself. I still felt empty, I could
still feel the phantom pains of my surgery even though my body was completely
healed, my heart still ached for the little one I had lost. Again, I was struck
with how real everything felt, no nightmare had ever felt so claustrophobic.