Faith Sullivan - Meant for Me

“Because it’s not about me, asshole. He’s going to hurt some poor, innocent girl, and I can’t stand by and let it happen. I’d report him myself if I could. I love him, but he needs help.” Ben starts to tear up, and I realize there’s more to this story than I imagined.

“What do you mean?” I ask, encouraging him to go on.

“His father created such a sense of self-loathing in him. He doesn’t know how to express love, only pain. I tried to get him to open up to me, but he could never be tender or gentle. He was always cruel, taking whatever he wanted.” He looks at me with such anguish that I want to turn away, but I can’t. “The things he did to me, Will.” He sobs, shaking his head. “But I thought I could change him, get him to see what a normal, loving relationship was like. And he was starting to come around but then his father caught us. Now I know there’s no saving him, especially after what he tried to do to Ivy.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone what he was doing to you?”

“Will, you’re the first gay man I’ve met besides Ryan. Who was I going to talk to about it?” He raises his hands in front of him, imploring me to answer him.

“Are you afraid of Ryan?” I have to get some kind of handle on Ben’s true feelings.

“No, I’m afraid of falling under his spell again,” he moans, leaning his head against the window.

“So you were the one who broke it off?” I inquire, studying his profile.

“I had to. I couldn’t take it anymore. But I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for walking away from him. I’m afraid that’s why he’s acting out like this. He’s confused. He’s hurt. He’s all alone.” Ben sniffles, trying to hold it together.

“Then why don’t you help him?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.

He looks over at me dejectedly. “How?”

“By once and for all standing up to his family,” I say in an attempt to empower him. “Reach out to Ryan. Tell him you’ll stand with him every step of the way—if he helps you deal with Lauren.”

“I can’t, Will. You’re asking too much of me. I’ll be leaving for college soon. I have other things I need to focus on.” Ben is pulling back. I’m losing him.

“So you’re just going to walk away and leave Ryan, knowing how he is. That doesn’t sound like something a man would do, and you want to go off and lead a team? I think it’s time you grew a pair.” I can’t help getting tough with him. Athletes respond to discipline, right?

“Why can’t I just talk to Lauren about his violent tendencies and leave Ryan out of it? I know much she cares about him. He didn’t handle his parents’ divorce well, but he somehow bonded with her. She’ll fight to the death to protect him, but maybe she needs to see it’s not in his best interest if she keeps shielding him from himself.” Ben’s trying to rationalize everything in his head, but working with Lauren is a terrible idea. She can’t be trusted. She’s a cover-up artist, not a therapist.

“Ben, you can’t reason with Lauren when it comes to dealing with Ryan. She’s too unpredictable. She’ll only negotiate with someone who has something on her. Ryan might be a mess, but she’ll never admit it. His reputation in the community is more important to her than getting him the help he needs.” I plead my case, hoping Ben won’t let me down. “You have to either get Ryan to go after his stepsister or scare Lauren into thinking that you’re going to reveal the truth about Ryan’s sexuality to the world. I’m afraid those are our only options.”

“I’ll think about it, all right?” Ben shifts into drive, turning the truck back onto the road. Apparently he’s had enough of our conversation.

“I’ll need an answer soon. The sooner—either you or Ryan approach Lauren—the better.” I’m firm, probably firmer than I should be. But Ivy’s life may hang in the balance.

If Lauren insists on Ivy’s involvement with the script going forward, it may very well kill her. And I’m not going to stand by and let that happen. Lauren’s a heartless bitch who left Ivy bleeding in my arms—not once, but twice. She needs to be taken down. Eric’s too busy watching over Ivy and running his business. So it’s up to me to do everything in my power to remove the target the Prices have on Ivy’s back—even if I have to get my hands dirty to do it.

Ivy

“Are you ready?” Dr. P. asks, holding the ultrasound wand between my legs.

“Yes,” I respond shakily as Eric grips my hand even tighter.

I’ve been waiting for this all week, but now that it’s here, I’m dreading what Dr. Patel is going to find. I was hoping that he’d squirt some gel onto my belly and examine the baby though my stomach, but he wanted to get a more detailed look with the transvaginal model. I didn’t enjoy it the first time around, but I’m just going to have to grit my teeth and get through it somehow. Discomfort be damned.

“Breathe for me, Ivy. Relax,” Dr. P. says, his eyes fixed on the monitor. “That’s it.”

“Are you okay?” Eric whispers down to me.

Not really, but I don’t want to spook him.

“Uh huh,” I respond, forcing a smile.

Dr. Patel wheels his chair over to the screen, turning up the volume. Soon, a gentle thud, thud, thud starts filling the room. “Bingo! There it is!” he exclaims.

“Is that—?” Eric starts, leaning forward.

“Your baby’s heartbeat? It sure is.” Dr. P. grins up proudly at us.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Eric asks, a look of sheer wonder on his face.

“It’s too early to tell,” Dr. P. chuckles. “But it’s a nice, steady beat. Your baby sounds healthy and strong.”

“Oh, thank God,” I murmur as Eric bends over to kiss my forehead.

“That’s our baby, Ivy,” Eric says, pointing at the screen. “Can you believe it?”

It’s a special moment, and I feel myself getting emotional. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but I can’t help it. We almost lost this baby twice already. But Dr. P. just said it’s healthy and strong. I couldn’t be more relieved.

“So everything looks fine, Doc?” I ask as he zooms in on a particular area.

He’s quiet as he studies the image, repositioning the wand at a different angle.

“What is it, Dr. P.?” Eric implores, observing his every move.

“Jeanette, can you ask Dr. Kramer to come in here, please?” Dr. P. requests of the nurse assisting him.

She quickly leaves the room and returns almost instantly with another doctor.

Eric starts fidgeting beside me as I hold my breath.

“What’s up, Amir?” he asks, striding into the room.

“Can you take a look at this for me, Peter?” Dr. P. inquires, still not looking at either one of us.

Dr. Kramer studies the image carefully. “I’ve never seen anything like it, Amir.”

“I know. That’s why I called you in here,” Dr. P. continues. “I wanted to make sure.”

“Yes, I read through your notes last night after our consultation. Your initial diagnosis appears to be on target, but it’s such a unique case.” Dr. Kramer stares at the image, mystified.

“So it’s a placental abruption?” I don’t bother with any formalities instead I jump right into their conversation.

“Thank you, Peter.” Dr. P. says as the other doctor gives me a weak smile before leaving the room.

“What the hell is going on?” Eric demands, dropping my hand as he approaches the doctor.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I just wanted my colleague to confirm my suspicions. I don’t like to treat these kinds of cases lightly.” He pauses, removing the wand from inside of me. “Unfortunately, an ultrasound usually can’t confirm a placental abruption because most of the time they’re too small. But it appears as if, somehow, a portion of your placenta has already detached, but not all the way. See this line here? It’s hanging, suspended in the amniotic fluid. The initial separation is what caused the bleeding the first time. As the baby grows and begins to move, the placenta doesn’t remain stationary. I believe the second time it almost ruptured but didn’t. It’s still attached, but only by a thread. If it breaks off completely, it will put you and the baby at great risk.”

“But will it break off?” I grab the sides of the exam table, willing my hands to remain steady.

“In all likelihood, yes. There is a slight possibility that the placenta will heal itself and eventually be able to slough off that portion like a scab, or it might remain attached throughout the pregnancy, but the chances of either of those scenarios aren’t very good.” His eyes are sad when they meet mine, like he’s failed me somehow.

“What course of action do you recommend?” Eric asks, not wasting any time.

“We could take the overly cautious route and abort the pregnancy before the baby gets any bigger. But I’m hesitant to do that, and I’ll tell you why.” Dr. P. scoots his chair closer, resting his elbows on his knees. “The baby’s heartbeat is strong. It’s not in distress. Ivy’s bleeding has stopped. She made it through the week. Those are all encouraging signs not to give up just yet.”

“But if that flap rips off, that’s it?” Eric questions.

“That I can’t tell you,” Dr. P. responds. “And that’s the frustrating part. If the baby continues to grow at a normal rate, then it means that the placenta is providing it with the nutrients it needs. There’s no hole, so to speak. But with growth comes increased movement as the available space in the womb gets more and more restricted. The baby could inadvertently rip off the flap and severely damage the placenta. If we make it to twenty-two weeks, I can do an emergency C-section, but if we don’t and it ruptures, we could be endangering both of their lives. It’s a tough call.”

“What causes something like this to happen?” I inquire, staring mournfully at the monitor.

“There are a variety of factors—smoking, drinking, drug use by the mother. Physical trauma, high blood pressure, and so forth,” Dr. P. rattles off.

“What about stress?” Eric questions.

“As the sole reason? No, but it doesn’t help matters,” Dr. P. admits, removing the latex gloves from his hands.

Eric sighs in relief, but he’s letting me off the hook too easily. He’s forgetting about the night I went out drinking with Sophie. The night I called him drunk, ranting about Cassidy’s shirt. It was not even twenty-four hours after we’d had sex, the critical time in a woman’s body right after conception. There’s no way that Dr. P. can tell me for sure, but this could very well be my fault, not Lauren’s.

“I wouldn’t advise making any rash decisions. Mother and child are stable for now. Think it over and get back to me. Either way, I’m here for you. I’ve handled many high-risk pregnancies before. Nothing quite like this, but I assure you I’ll keep an eye on things,” Dr. P. says, helping me lift my legs out of the stirrups. “The minute you see any bleeding, you call me. The minute you feel any pain, you call me. Do not leave the area for the remainder of the pregnancy. Stay close to home. I know the particulars of your case, and I’m usually here or at the hospital. I’d hate for you to end up in an out-of-town emergency room wasting valuable time bringing them up to speed.”

“Understood, Dr. P. Do I still need to stay in bed?” I try to remain upbeat as the frown on Eric’s face deepens.

“The less movement, the better. I’m going to have the receptionist set you up with a schedule of weekly appointments. Things can change quickly and I want to monitor you closely. If that’s what you decide to do,” Dr. P. remarks, writing on my chart before handing it to the nurse.

“And what if we don’t?” Eric asks, confirming my worst fear.

“Then I would recommend moving ahead with the termination as soon as possible. The larger the fetus grows, the more difficult it is to remove.” Dr. P. isn’t taking sides, but I can tell abortions are a part of the job he doesn’t enjoy.

“Thank you, Dr. P. We’ll be in touch.” I extend my hand, and he shakes it warmly before moving on to Eric.

“Remember, if you need me, call me,” Dr. P. admonishes before leaving the room.

“You can get dressed now,” the nurse says before following him out the door to give us some privacy.

“Can you hand me my top?” I ask Eric, not wanting to start an argument until we get out of here.

Eric immediately starts in on me. “Ivy, I think we should schedule that procedure before we leave.”

“Eric, didn’t you hear the man? He said to take some time and think it over. We don’t have to jump to any rash decisions,” I respond, sticking my head through the collar before hopping down off the exam table.