Page 130 of Black Flag

Just like myengine today, my body was shutting down. I could barely put on foot in front ofthe other to get back to the hauler. The entire time I was in the car, I thoughtof nothing but that video, my fight with Sway this morning and how much of anasshole I felt like for snapping at her.

Once inside the hauler,I collapsed in the same spot as I did before the race and waited for Aiden orSpencer to come get me. I was in no shape to be driving myself back to thehospital.

I must have eitherpassed out or fallen asleep. When I came back around, Spencer and Aiden werehovering over me.

“Not again,” I heardAlley’s voice in the distance. “How long has he been lying there now?”

“An hour...we think.”

That caught myattention. I needed to get back to see Sway.

Sway was sleeping whenI arrived. Dr. Clayton met me outside her room, “Mr. Riley, she’s been askingfor you but she’s sleeping now.”

“Am I allowed to go inthere?” I asked shuffling my feet.

“Yes,” he said as hiseyes fell toward her chart he was holding. “She was in a lot of pain thisafternoon so I had to give her some pain medication.”

I nodded once, my eyesfocused on the ground. “Is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s beenthrough a lot in the last forty eight hours. It’s to be expected she’s in painconsidering she fell down two flights of stairs and the placenta abruption ispainful for some women.” Dr. Clayton leaned against the wall, tucking his fileunder his arm. “After speaking withRenatainObstetrics we discovered the abruption is mild to severe. We know Sway isn’tgoing to make it full term at this point. But all we can do is hope that shecan make it to thirty-two weeks.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

He paused, choosing hiswords. “Every week is better. I’ve seen babies born at twenty weeks and go onto live a normal life with minimal complications...” he paused again. “likeI said,every week we can keep him in there is better.”

I think he knew at thatpoint I was starting to get the glazed over look again, knowing it was too muchfor me. He motioned toward the door with a nod. “Go ahead—she’s been waitingfor you.”

When I walked inside,she was sleeping. Looking at her now, I was reminded of how much all this hurt.How much it hurt to see the love of my life, the reason for existence lying ina hospital bed, because of me.

I hated the remorse Ifelt but I prayed I’d see past the wreckage for some sort of repentance. Thiswasn’t healthy for me to feel this way nor was it healthy for me to be blamingmyself but I did. I did because at that moment blame was all I felt.

I was just starting todoze off beside Sway’s bed when I heard the click of her door. I looked aroundconfused for a moment, trying to decipher if this was a dream or not. Part ofme wished it was. Swimming in emotions wasn’t enough. I was suffering. Burningalive with pain, agony, anguish and grief were my only friends. My mind was insuch a tormented stage that I didn’t know if I could pull out of the blackness.So yeah, I was disoriented.

My mompeekedher head inside. “Is it a bad time sweetie?”

I shook my head rubbingmy eyes as she walked in taking a seat on the other side of Sway.

Trying to focus, I satup straighter in the chair, rubbing my eyes once again. It was like trying tosee through thick fog.

Mom sat quietly for afew moments, her hands clasped near her chin praying.

“How are you holdingup?” She whispered with love and concern. The same look everyone was giving me.

“I uh—” I started tospeak but the emotion grew into a painful lump in my throat.

I gave up trying toanswer her and just shrugged, my face fell in my hands that were resting on thebed.

The truth was, I wasfar from holding up. I was an absolute fucking mess. I couldn’t think ofanything but Sway. I couldn’t eat and sleeping was becoming something I onlywished I could do but sadly couldn’t achieve soundly. Every time I closed myeyes, the video deluged my mind, leaving me miserable. I let this happen to herand I couldn’t get past that.

Mom was quiet for a fewmoments longer, and then bent forward reaching for my hand over Sway’s sleepingbody.

“Jameson,” she began,tears streamed down her own cheeks now. “I know that you think this is yourfault. I know my son.” She paused until my teary eyes met hers and smiled.“You’ve always thought it was your responsibility to protect Sway, to protectyour sister, to protect everyone.Especially with Sway.But sweetie,this, what happened to Sway, is not your fault. You can’tcontrol what happens to her no more than you can control the outcome of a race.You can’t protect her from everything and you need to realize that before youhurt yourself trying.” Her hand rose to sweep my tears away just as she didwhen I was a child. “Sway needs you to be there for her, but as her boyfriendand soon to be husband. She needs you to be a father to your child together.She does need you, just not as her protector.” Leaning forward, she kissed myforehead before whispering one last piece of advice.“Justthink about what I said sweetheart.”

My mom was right and Iunderstood what she was trying to tell me. The problem was,I wasn’t sure I could forget what happened and let go of what I caused.

I drew in a deep breathonce my mom left. My hand reached for Sway as she slept. I finally allowedmyself to think with uncharacteristic optimism at the thought that, together,we could pull through this okay. It was possible. She was alive. The baby wasalive. That right there was reassuring to me.

I felt her hand twitchin mine, her fingers gently squeezing.

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