Page 10 of Wicked Things
Pippa sighs heavily, tears overflowing from her eyes, down the sides of her face to wet the pillow underneath her head. “I started learning piano,” she says. “Last month. I always wanted to play, but I never had the time. I put it off and I put it off… It’s typical, isn’t it? I finally get around to doing something for myself, and boom! I’m going to lose my hand.”
I brush a stray strand of hair back out of her face. “You’re not going to lose your hand, Pip.” I’m surprised how convincing I sound. I don’t even know if the guys upstairs are going to be able to save it yet, but I’m relieved by how calm I sound. The panic in Pippa’s eyes dissipates a little.
“De-gloved. It’s such a fucked up term. I never once thought about it happening to me when we studied it during residency. It fucking sucks, Sloane. I mean it. It really fuckingsucks.”
Brushing her hair more to comfort her than anything else now, I shhhh her.
“I know, babe. I know. It’s all going to be okay, though. The guys who work here are some of the finest surgeons in the country. If anyone can fix this and make it right, it’s them.”
Pippa blinks; her eyes look a little vacant. The latest round of morphine seems to be doing the trick quite nicely. “But my handwriting’s probably never going to be legible again, is it?” she slurs.
I smile. “Your handwriting was never legible to begin with, so no great change there.”
She’s quiet for a little while. She watches me with this somber look on her face that has nothing to do with what’s happened to her, or the drugs that are shuttling around her body. “You look really happy,” she says at last.
“Iamreally happy.”
“I’m sorry, y’know. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you to know what was best for you. I should have…minded my own business.”
I shake my head. “We don’t need to talk about that now. Let’s just worry about getting you patched up and out of here.”
“No, really.” She swallows thickly. “I need to say it. I was a bitch. I didn’t mean to be. I was convinced I was just doing it to protect you, but I suppose… I suppose I was a little jealous, too.”
“Jealous? Of what?”
“Of Zeth, of course. He just showed up one day and swept you away in this tide of chaos and madness, and I could see it in your eyes. No matter what, you were going to stand by his side until the end of fucking time. It was…shit. I was jealous that he was getting all of your time and energy. I should have been thinking a little more rationally, but at the time it felt like he’d…stolen you away.”
I can see how much it costs her to say this to me. She’s a stoic, proud person who doesn’t share her emotions easily. It’s a rare day that she will even admit that shehasemotions. So an apology of this depth and magnitude? It’s difficult for her, I know it is.
“I forgive you,” I whisper. “I promise, it’s all okay. I’ve missed the hell out of you, Pip. We’ll never spend so long without each other again, okay? Now rest. Dr. Gaffin and Dr. Friedman will both be down here soon to check you out. In the meantime, your body’s been through hell and back. You need to get some sleep, okay?”
She nods. She’s been fighting her exhaustion, but it’s catching up with her, clearly. “You’ll be here, won’t you? You’ll be here when they come?”
“Of course I will.” I get to my feet, then bend and kiss her on the top of the head. “I’ll come back, I promise.”
******
Zeth’s text message is still sitting on my phone’s screen, waiting for my response. Truthfully, I don’t know what to say to him. He hasn’t brought up the warehouse fire since it happened, but he’s not a man who forgets easily. I know this about him. It should come as no shock to me that he’d up and leave in the middle of the day, while I’m at work, to go and ‘take care’ of the matter, without breathing a word of his plans to me prior. He knows a lot about me, too. He knows I’d try and talk him out of something like that, so his actions have fallen into the old, “ask forgiveness, not permission,” grey area. Jerk. If I weren’t pregnant and suffering from extreme morning sickness, I’d get on a plane as soon as my shift ended and go find him, to be with him, because that’s how it’s meant to be. Me and him. Together. Bad things happen when we’re apart. Every single time. Admittedly, bad things happen when we’re together too, but at least we have each other to lean on during those situations.
Michael’s going to be sleeping at the house. I’ll be safe enough with him around, he’d die protecting me without a doubt, but it’s not the same. I need Zeth at home with me, to lay his hand on my belly while I’m sleeping. To stroke my hair and whisper softly to me as I wrestle with my dreams.
“Looking a little peaky there, Romera. Need a script?” Oliver Massey uses the clipboard in his hand to tap me on the shoulder. I haven’t even noticed him arrive. I quickly type three words into my phone and hit send.
Just be safe.
My phone makes ashooping noise as I slip into the pocket of my lab coat. “Not quite at the medication stage yet,” I say to Oliver.
He returns my tired smile with one of his own, sympathy written all over his face. He’s taking the fact that I’m pregnant very well. I was worried about telling him; he’s hardly Zeth’s number one fan. “You tried antihistamines?” he asks.
I groan, letting my head rock back. “They make me so tired. I can’t. I need a clear head while I’m here. They make everything so foggy.”
“You could always take early maternity leave.” I shoot daggers at him, and he laughs. “Don’t murder me for merely pointing out your options, Romera. You’re a tough chick. You can handle this. How many weeks are you now, anyway?”
“Nearly fourteen.”
“Great. If you’re lucky the puking part’s nearly over anyway. How did your first ultrasound go?”
I shrug. “I haven’t done it yet.”
