Page 25 of Saving Emily
Although I’m unsure where she’s going with her interrogation, I answer, “The day of the accident.”
While I lower the toilet seat to sit down, Dr. Miller hands me a tissue from a box on the vanity. “Can you explain to me what happened that day?”
“Yeah… umm… I was rushing to tell Noah… to tell him something important when the traffic became bumper-to-bumper. A police officer said there was an accident and that I had to go another route. When I put my car in reverse, my intuition begged me to stay, so instead of doing as the officer requested, I ran toward the crash scene.” The swirls of my stomach double. "A detective who knows Noah was standing behind the police barrier. When he recognized me, he walked over to me. That's when I spotted the guitar I had bought Noah for his birthday on the roadside. It was shattered beyond repair." I choke back a sob. "But it was nothing compared to how badly Noah's body was damaged. He was just left of the accident scene... Half a dozen EMTs were working on him."
Dr. Miller bobs down in front of me. “Was Noah unconscious by then?”
I vehemently shake my head. "No, he said my name when I kneeled beside him."
A flare darts through her impressive eyes. “Then what happened?”
I swallow the bile scorching my throat before muttering, “Noah started convulsing.” I twist a tissue around my fingers as I struggle not to cry. “That’s when I was dragged away from him by his detective friend.”
Dr. Miller sighs before squeezing my knee in support. “Okay. That helps. Thank you for sharing.” She stands to her full height, which I guess is around five-foot-six. “I believe the circumstances that pushed Noah into his comatose state are the reason he reacts negatively any time I mention you during our sessions.”
A sob rips from my throat unexpectedly, startling both Dr. Miller and me. It’s the pained noise of a woman whose heart just cracked into a million pieces. The idea of Noah hating me hurts just as much as wondering if he’s in pain.
“I’m not saying Noah doesn’t love you, Emily. He’s fighting to come back toyou. I just need to work out how I can help him do that in a positive manner.”
Dr. Miller gasps when her endeavor to leave the bathroom is thwarted by Jacob standing in the doorway. Mistaking her shocked expression as annoyance for his creeper ways, Jacob blurts out the first thing that pops into his head. “Is everything okay? You? The baby?”
I plot his death while grinding out, “We’re fine.Bothof us.”
When Dr. Miller’s eyes drop to my barely visible baby bump, Jacob mouths a silent apology.
* * *
"I’m sorry, Em, you know what I’m like when I’m nervous. I speak out of my ass.”
I roll my eyes as we continue moseying down the corridor. Dr. Miller suggested for Jacob and me to get some lunch in the hospital cafeteria while she continues with her session with Noah. I didn’t want to leave Noah, but Dr. Miller promised she'd have us immediately paged over the hospital's loudspeaker if he shows any signs that he’s waking up.
The break will also give me a moment to get my head back into game mode. It seems ludicrous to think Noah is reacting negatively toward me because Ryan dragged me away from him, but when I stop to assess what Dr. Miller said with a rational head, it kind of makes sense.
Noah has lost so much in his short life. He was present at the accident scene of his brother, Michael, then Ryan informed him about Chris’s overdose. When you throw those facts together with a horrific accident that caused his brain to swell, it’s understandable that he’s confused and angry.
He has feared losing me our entire relationship, and although I am still here, very much present, to him, we’re still apart. He can’t touch me as I can him. That, in itself, would be causing him pain.
I’m drawn from my somber thoughts by Jacob peering down at me with big, remorseful eyes. He hates that he spilled my secret as much as I hate that I have to keep it a secret. Our baby was a surprise, but that doesn’t mean he or she is unwanted. I can’t wait to share our news with the world. It just needs to occurafterI tell Noah.
After bumping Jacob with my hip, I try to ease the resentment in his eyes. “It’s fine; don’t worry about it. I doubt I can keep my secret much longer. My belly is too round.”
“You could blame it on donuts?”
When I laugh, I see the guilt weighing down his shoulders lift. "Speaking of airless holes, how was your anger management class this morning? Do you still think your counselor is a few nuts short of a fruitcake?"
Panic crosses his features, but he’s quick to shut it down with a joke. “A few nuts short? He’s got enough for two cakes.”
I laugh again, hoping it will keep our conversation easy-going. I don't know what's going on with Jacob, but he seems more distant than usual. It’s also nice keeping the focus off me for a change.
After purchasing the cafeteria special, we take a seat at one of the many empty tables. This is the first time we’ve sat down for a meal since Noah's accident. Grimacing, Jacob shovels a forkful of sweet and sour chicken into his mouth. He gags, assuring me it tastes as disgusting as it looks. It's supposed to be sweet and sour chicken, but it seems more like a weak broth poured over boiled rice.
His throat works hard to swallow as his watering eyes raise to mine. “Who was the lady in the bathroom with you?”
While moving my food around my plate with my fork, I explain Dr. Miller's role and what her sessions with Noah are about. I don't tell Jacob about my first run-in with her. Jacob defends Noah as fiercely as Noah protects me, so my confession would have Jacob seeing Dr. Miller as enemy number 1. Her attitude toward Noah has drastically changed the past week, and I accepted her apology, so I can't continue holding it against her.
Over both our conversation and the horrid-looking food in front of me, I push my plate away from me. Jacob arches his brow, warning me I either eat or he’ll forcefully feed me the orange slop on my plate. His brow remains high until I pull off a large chunk of the bread roll that came with our broth and pop it into my mouth. "Better?"
He grins before shoveling in another forkful. “Much.”
