Sometimes They Don't Come Home

The alarm clock rang, interrupting the sleep that had finally taken over only an hour before. Evelyn groaned and batted it with her hand. He hadn’t come home again last night, at least not before she fell asleep at 4:00 AM. He’d probably claim that his pool match had run late, and she’d pretend to believe him even though they both knew that the pool hall closed at midnight on Wednesdays. If she questioned him, he’d be angry and there was no telling how that would go.

She had to be careful now, because of the baby. She couldn’t risk making him that angry. If he pushed her down the stairs again, it wouldn’t just mean a bruised hip. As if sensing her anxiety, the baby started kicking her ribcage. She pressed firmly against the spot, hoping the little monkey would take the hint and stop assaulting her. Rolling onto her side, Evelyn pressed herself upright and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Regardless of what was or wasn’t happening at home, her students would still show up in class today and need her to be on her game. Sammy nudged her hand with his wet nose and looked at her with his head cocked to one side reminding her that he had needs too.

“Yes, yes, alright, I’m up, let’s go.” Evelyn shuffled down the stairs and opened the sliding door for him to relieve himself while she started the coffee.

She always wished she was able to remember to start the coffee in the evening so it would be ready when she woke, but somehow she never developed that habit. There were lots of habits she’d tried to develop, but they never really seemed to stick.

Showered, and dressed for a day of corralling 30 fifth graders, Evelyn grabbed her bag of papers that she had planned on grading last night, but never got around to, and stepped out onto the porch of the new-construction colonial she had fallen in love with a year ago. As she stepped off the porch she noticed that his car wasn’t in the driveway. Ben never made it home at all last night. It occurred to Evelyn that most wives might be worried, maybe file a missing person’s report.

Since the pregnancy, this behavior had become so normal for him that it didn’t occur to her to be worried. She eased her expanding frame into the SUV that she just purchased for the little boy who had finally stopped hammering her ribs with his heel and drove to work.

That afternoon, as she warmed her leftover chili in the teacher’s lounge, Evelyn finally allowed herself to think about her missing husband. Typically he’d have texted her by now, with some flimsy story and a weak apology. Then, he’d show up after work with flowers in hand and a sheepish smile. He’d be nice to her for a few days. Evelyn checked her phone, nothing yet. Maybe he was still sleeping it off wherever he had passed out.

“Wow, you really popped this week, huh? How much longer now?” her well-meaning coworker had just walked into the room and was making a beeline for her belly, hand outstretched.

Evelyn smiled tightly and turned towards the counter, just before the woman’s hand made contact, “25 weeks now, so over halfway there!” Evelyn feigned cheerfulness.

“You and your husband must be so excited! Have you decided on a name?” The woman seemed not to notice Evelyn’s desire to avoid her hands because she was reaching around to touch the baby bump despite the evasive maneuver.

“Yes, and no. No name yet. We have a few we are thinking about.” Evelyn lied. Truthfully, she had a list of names, but Ben hadn’t even wanted to have a conversation about them yet. He seemed to be in denial that their son would be here before the leaves changed colors. “I have to run, I have a science experiment to set up while I shovel in my lunch today.” Evelyn smiled and turned to leave the room.

Hopefully, a busy afternoon with her students would allow her some reprieve from thoughts of her jumbled life and crumbling marriage. As she reached the door of her classroom, a cramp ran through her abdomen and her arms instinctively wrapped around herself, her chili falling to the ground, and staining the tile below. Leaning against the doorframe, Evelyn breathed deeply. The cramp lasted only a moment, and then she began the business of cleaning up the mess of her lunch. Her doctor had told her that Braxton Hicks contractions could start anytime now, but she hadn’t expected that amount of discomfort. The rest of the afternoon passed with a few more of the cramps and a lot of hunger pains.

That evening, Evelyn pulled her chenille cardigan protectively around her swollen, abdomen, rubbing herself as the discomfort edged towards pain. The woman at Nordstrom’s had told her it was the softest thing she’d ever own, and she had been right, though at this moment it brought her little comfort. The cramps had started this afternoon but were getting worse, and now, there was blood.

Maybe she should have left work early today, but, after the last miscarriage she didn’t have any sick time left, and sometimes preparing for a day out of her fifth-grade classroom was more trouble than it was worth.

Evelyn wiggled the mouse. She just needed to get the number for her OBGYN so they could tell her that everything would be just fine. She had lost the other baby at just 10 weeks, but surely, this one, a little boy, already past the 24th week, a healthy, kicking cherub who danced on the ultrasound the week before, would be just fine.

The screen flickered to life, and her husband’s Hotmail account opened on the screen. She instinctively moved the cursor to the red x in the corner, but her hand froze when she saw the subject line on the first email Re: How do I get a hold of your sexy self? She had never wanted to be the wife who went through her husband’s things, suspicious and looking for trouble. But, this was left open in front of her, it would probably be nothing, some spam from a random site that had made its way to his inbox. Ben wasn’t even that sexual. He turned her advances down regularly, so it wasn’t actually possible that he was looking elsewhere. Besides, if he was, he was certainly smart enough to do a better job of hiding it.

Suddenly a cramp gripped her midsection, she wrapped her arms around herself and doubled over, a moan escaping her lips. The pain reminded her why she was in front of the computer in the first place. Evelyn quickly typed the number for her physician on her phone. Following the prompts, she was directed to the after-hours line and gave her name.

“Hello Mrs. Avery, my name is Faith. How can I help you?” the operator’s voice twittered like a canary.

“I’m 24 no, 25 weeks pregnant. I’m having some bleeding and cramping since this mor — ”

A cramp, stronger this time, cut off her breath, ripped through her abdomen and brought with it a gush between her legs. She placed her hand on her upper thigh and brought it up. Even in the dim light, she could see the unmistakable darkness of blood. Her vision blurred. The roar of the blood rushing between her ears drowned out everything around her. She had a vague sense of the after-hours receptionist talking hurriedly, and then, her doctor’s voice cut through the line.

“Blood…I’m bleeding.. she managed to croak.” The phone fell from her blood-soaked fingers and bounced across the cream carpet, creating an unsightly trail as it traveled, landing just inches from her. She felt her body tilting to the side but somehow had lost the ability to right herself. The chair tipped and her petite, swollen frame slipped from the chair while her arm gripped the armrest, pulling the chair down along with her. She landed as another cramp caused her to curl her knees to her chest. The chair followed, it’s armrest jabbing her squarely in the abdomen.

“Mrs. Avery, are you there? Hello? Mrs. Avery? Hold on, we are sending an ambulance.”

Her eyes drifted closed, “I…have…to…clean…the…carpet…” She heard the ambulance sirens in the distance. Her eyes fluttered closed.

“EMT! We were dispatched to this address for a pregnant woman in distress.” Jackson pounded on the front door of the new construction colonial.

“I think we should break the door down. The doc said she was in bad shape,” His partner, Anderson returned as he flexed the muscles in his arms, stretching them behind his back and interlacing his fingers, ready for impact.

Jackson sighed and shifted the spinal board from his right hand tucking it under his left arm. He was exhausted after a double shift, and not at all looking forward to dealing with a hysterical pregnant woman experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions. “Ok, but if it goes badly, you’re taking the heat, and repair bill on this one. The last door we broke down the man was just on the can, and the boss wanted to get rid of us both.”

“Back up, on three, we kick…one, two,”

“What the hell? What’s going on?” a voice yelled from behind the two paramedics.

“This your house?” Anderson asked pointing at the red front door.

“It sure as hell is,” retorted portly man in a sad plaid button-down shirt tucked into khaki trousers, his generous stomach flopping over and causing the brown belt in his waistband to disappear in the front.

“Got a call about a pregnant woman in distress, “ Jackson explained.

“Shit!” The man pushed passed them, and his chubby fingers fumbled with the key, finally getting it in the lock. “Evelyn! Evelyn!” He raced through the living room and into the kitchen, his ample midsection jiggling as he ran. He tripped over a cat, a fluffy black and white furball who sat in the middle of the floor as if nothing was amiss, and caught himself on the kitchen island. Regaining his balance he sprinted up the stairs running through the middle of the house. “Evelyn, where are you?”

Jackson and Anderson exchanged looks, shrugged and followed the man up the single flight of stairs. They watched from the top as he checked what appeared to be the master bedroom to the left, turning lights on, and searching behind the bed and in the closet.

“I don’t know where she is, but she’s 25 weeks pregnant, and has miscarried before. She’s supposed to be on modified bed rest,” the man raked his hands through his thinning hair and it stood on end, making him appear as crazed as he probably felt. He continued down the hall and into another room to the right. Jackson and Anderson followed at a distance.

“Fuck! No! Evelyn!”

They heard the shrieks as they rounded the corner into the doorway. Jackson took in the cream carpeting smeared with blood, the toppled chair laying atop a petite woman whose abdomen was clearly swollen in mid-pregnancy through her thin tank top. The armrest of the chair jutted into her abdomen in a way that would be incredibly uncomfortable if she was conscious. Her heather gray yoga pants were, at this point completely soaked through. Her phone, coated in a layer of drying blood, lay near her. The screen glowed, she had been mid phone call. Her eyes were closed, long, curly brown hair splayed around her, the tips soaking up the droplets of blood that were still moist.

“Back away from her,” Jackson cautioned her husband, “If she’s injured you could make it worse. Anderson, hold him back, get him to sit down.” He gestured to the futon in couch position behind him.

Anderson grabbed the man by the shoulders and guided him into a seated position on the futon while Jackson assessed the woman.

“Pulse is slow, she’s breathing. She’s losing a lot of blood.” Jackson lifted the chair from Evelyn’s abdomen and pushed it aside. The armrest was smeared with the red imprint of Evelyn’s hand, the fingers drawn out long as if she had been clutching it as she fell. He placed the gurney on the floor next to her. “Anderson, I need you here.”

“You need to stay put so we can help her, understand?” The man nodded at Anderson’s words, though it wasn’t clear that he actually understood what was going on.

Anderson knelt beside his partner, they had been paired up so long that no words were needed for this part of the process. They rolled her from her fetal position on to the board effortlessly, Jackson taking her head and shoulders while Anderson supported her lower body, straightening her legs, and fastening the strap around her calves. Jackson brushed her hair from her forehead and then fastened the Velcro strap around it to keep her spine stable during transport. Anderson fastened the third strap around her hips, careful not to disturb or compress the bulge in her abdomen where her baby grew.

“On three, one, two, three.” The two men hoisted the woman with little effort and carried the board, Anderson leading with her feet, and Jackson following out the door, and down the stairs to the rig.

“Where’s the husband?” Jackson asked as they settled her on the gurney and began hooking up the equipment that would monitor her through the ride.

“Fuckhead probably is still sitting on the fucking futon,” Anderson scoffed, “I’ll go drag his ass out. Some people cannot handle a crisis.”

Jackson went about taking and recording the woman’s vital signs while Anderson went after the husband. Her eyelids flickered as he poked her with the needle for the IV.

“I have to clean the carpet before he gets home,” she muttered.

“Don’t you worry about that right now,” Jackson soothed.

The fatty climbed into the cabin and Anderson slammed the door. Evelyn’s eyes flickered and settled on her husband. “Get out of here! Get away from me!”

Her screams brought Jackson out of the robotic action of hooking up a patient for transport. She began thrashing, fighting the restraints.

“No! Don’t come near me!” She screamed at her husband.

“Man, you have to get out. Now! I can’t have her in this state during transport.”

“She’s my wife, you asshole. I’m staying.” The man’s bald spot glowed in the cabin light.

Anderson threw open the rear doors, and finally getting to use his muscle, pulled the hefty man out of the rig. “Get the fuck out, and drive yourself if you want to follow. We are here to take care of her, not your motherfucking ego!”

Anderson shut the rear doors of the rig and jumped into the driver’s seat again, putting the ambulance in drive and starting the siren.

Jackson turned his attention to calming the woman in his care. “Is my baby ok?” She asked.

“Let’s just get you to the hospital so they can take care of both of you, ok?” Jackson looked down at the young, panicked woman

“Will you hold my hand?” Her request was so simple, so filled with need that he couldn’t help but oblige. “Do you have children?”

He smiled down at her, “I have three. Two girls and a boy.”

“That sounds nice,” she said, drifting into unconsciousness again. Suddenly, the monitor sounded an urgent alarm, then let out a continuous tone that caused Jackson to spring into action. He straddled her abdomen and pressed into her chest with his hands locked together. One, two, three. Then lowering his mouth to hers to breathe for her. Four, five, six. One, two, three…he pumped her blood through her body for her. Four, five six, he breathed his own oxygen into her lungs until finally, the ambulance pulled into the emergency bay and the doors were flung open.

Jackson felt himself being pulled out of the ambulance but didn’t stop CPR. His training wouldn’t allow it. He rode on the gurney, straddling the patient, and debriefed the trauma team as he continued his rhythmic pumping of her chest.

“26-year-old female found unresponsive in the field. 20 weeks gestation, revived briefly in the ambulance before coding.” Jackson reported in rhythm with his compressions. “Oh, and something is going on with the husband. She flipped out when she saw him, Anderson had to drag him out of the rig. The fat fuck is on his way here.”

“We’ll take it from here,” Dr. Gagnon said, offering a hand to help Jackson off the gurney.

Looking down at his uniform he realized he was now covered in blood, he sank down against the wall, his head in his hands.

“Your shift is over, man. Want a lift back to the station to grab your car? I have to head there anyway to pick up Gafney,” Anderson asked.

“That one messed me up, man,” Jackson lifted his friend and ran his hand through his wavy brown hair. “What do you think freaked her out about her husband? Did she seem scared to you?”

“Not our lane, dude. The hospital has people to help deal with that crap. Our job is to get them here fast, and with a pulse. You did that.”

“I know,” Jackson hung his head between his knees. “I’m going to hang here for a bit, make sure she comes through ok. I’ll catch a ride to the station later.”

“Ok, but don’t get involved in something that isn’t yours to deal with. That never ends well.” Anderson kicked his friend’s boot and turned to walk away.

“Can I get you anything Noah?” the nurse was one he recognized, and probably should know by name but in his sleep-deprived, adrenaline crash, his brain couldn’t pull it out.

“I just want an update on the woman I brought in, Avery. I think Gagnon had her in trauma two, then I’ll head on home.”

“Sure, let me check in on them,” the nurse smiled, and turned towards the trauma room. She returned a moment later. “The woman will be just fine. She’s stable. They had to deliver the baby, and he’s in the NICU now. 25-weeker, so no telling how that will turn out yet.”

Jackson nodded, then heaved himself to his feet and made his way to the ambulance bay. He’d catch a ride to the station on the next rig that rolled in. He should make it home just in time to wake his kids up and get them ready for school. The chill was missing from the night air, indicating that summer was just around the corner. Jackson waved to the EMT closing up a rig. “Can I catch a ride back with you?”

“Yeah, got to clean up a bit first, though. Nasty MVA tonight. Car rolled a few times and wrapped around a tree. I don’t think the poor guy is going to make it.”

Evelyn’s eyes blinked open and she registered the bright white ceiling and fluorescent lights. The smell of antiseptic and the rough hospital blanket covering her body were confusing. Last she knew she was trying to call her doctor. Remembering the baby, Evelyn’s hands clasped over her now deflated abdomen. “No! Not again,” she sobbed. She had lost another baby. She knew it. Her stupid, broken body couldn’t do anything right.

“Evelyn, honey, what is it? You’re ok, dear,” the nurse rushed in, checking monitors, and smoothing Evelyn’s matted curls away from her forehead.

“My baby,” Evelyn sobbed, “I lost him.”

“Oh no, you didn’t my love. We had to deliver him, the placenta detached, but you got help in time, and he’s snoozing away in the NICU right now. He’s tiny, but he looks like a fighter. Let’s get the ok from your doctor, and then take you to see him, alright?” The nurse smiled down at her.

“My husband, has he seen the baby yet? What did he say?” Evelyn wiped the tears from her cheeks, though more were flowing from her eyes anyway.

“Your husband, we tried calling him, but haven’t been successful yet. I’m sure he will be here as soon as he checks his messages. Is there anyone else we can call to come and be with you until he gets here?”

“No, I don’t have anyone else,” Evelyn turns her face away from the nurse, not wanting to see her face filled with pity. She’s probably wondering how a woman in her mid-twenties doesn’t have anyone who cares about her.

With permission from her doctor, Evelyn is loaded into a wheelchair designed to house patients three times her size, and wheeled, with an IV stand in tow, to the NICU. Her heart pounded in her chest, the roaring of blood all she could hear even though the orderly kept up a steady chatter while en route. She was about to meet her son, her baby. What if he didn’t make it? Evelyn wasn’t sure she could handle losing another baby.

She tried to push thoughts that Ben was missing this from her mind, intent on enjoying this moment. The orderly pressed a button on the wall next to the door to the NICU and announced their arrival. A nurse, cradling a tiny infant buzzed them in from the other side of the window.

“Mrs. Avery, hi! Your little guy is right over here. We’ve got it from here, James. Thanks.” She dismissed the orderly and took over pushing the wheelchair.

Evelyn took in the tiny infants all around her, the wires and beeping monitors providing them with oxygen, monitoring their every heartbeat. Another mother in a hospital gown sat in a rocking chair, her infant on her bare chest, both of them covered with a blanket.

“Kangaroo care,” the nurse indicated, “it helps regulate body temperature in the baby’s and helps stabilize their heart rate. Your boy is too fragile yet for us to take him out of the incubator, but you’ll be able to reach through and hold his hands. That will be good for you both.”

Evelyn nodded as the nurse pulled the wheelchair up to the incubator in the far corner of the room. The baby inside was tiny, the size of a zucchini her mom used to grow in the garden. Spindly arms and stick-like legs protruded from a diaper that swam on his tiny body. His chest was so thin that she could see his heart beating through it, and his nearly translucent skin allowed each of the veins on his baseball-sized head to show through. Wires and adhesive nodes were everywhere, seeming to take up most of the surface of his skin. A monitor next to her showed his heartbeat, rapid, but steady. Tears sprung to her eyes. “He’s beautiful,” she breathed, turning her face to glance up at the nurse.

“Oh, he sure is. He’s feisty too. I’ve got a good feeling about this one. Do you have a name for him?”

“Aiden, his name is Aiden,” Evelyn decided right then that if Ben didn’t have the desire to even show up at the hospital, that he didn’t get a say in the name. He’d just have to deal with it.

“Go ahead, reach in and hold Aiden’s hand. Let him know who you are,” the nurse nodded towards the incubator.

Evelyn reached in through the tunnel, just big enough for an arm to fit through, and brushed her index finger along his tiny cheek, down his arm to his minuscule palm. Instinctively, his fingers closed, clasping her finger. His strength surprised her. She ran her thumb over his fingers, counting five perfectly formed fingers complete with tiny fingernails.

“Hi Aiden, I’m your Mama. I’m so happy to meet you,” Evelyn managed to choke out before the tears began to fall again.

The nurse placed a hand on her shoulder. “This will be a long road, but he’s strong, and we are good at what we do here. He’s in the right place.” The phone rang. “Excuse me, dear. I’m just going to grab that.”

Evelyn turned her attention to the tiny person in front of her, marveling at the fact that he could be so perfectly formed, and so unbelievably small at the same time. She fought to silence the what-ifs that threatened to ruin this first perfect moment with her son.

What if he had brain damage? What if he had huge medical needs for his whole life? What if Ben didn’t love him? What if he didn’t make it?

Shaking her head, Evelyn focused her brain on what was right in front of her. She was suddenly thankful for the methods her therapist had been working with her on to stop the spinning in her brain. She started describing the things she could see in her mind. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights, the whoosh of the oxygen pumping air into Aiden’s lungs.

How long would he have to be on the ventilator?

Evelyn turned to ask the nurse and caught her staring right at her from the desk, placing the receiver in the cradle on the wall, the nurse returned to her side.

“How long will he have to be on the ventilator?”

“We’ll go over all of that in a bit. I just got some news about your husband,” the nurse’s eyes were glistening with tears.

Evelyn turned her eyes away from her boy but kept hold of his hand.

“I just got a call from the ER. There was a man brought in last night, and it took them until now to identify him. It’s your husband, Benjamin. He was in a car accident last night.”

“I should go see him. He’ll want to know about Aiden,” Evelyn started to pull her hand from the incubator.

“His injuries were very severe, and they lost him in surgery. I’m sorry, Evelyn. Your husband is dead.”

The blood rushed to her head again, roaring in her ears, blocking out the rest of what the nurse said. Evelyn turned to look at her son, who had grabbed onto her finger again with his tiny fist. She knew she should be crying, wailing hysterically over the loss of her husband. Her body wouldn’t cooperate. Wouldn’t do what it was expected to do.

Turning her eyes once again to the nurse, she blinked. “I’m free,” she turned to her son, “We’re free.”

© Maria Chapman 2019