Deanna Roy - Forever Loved

I laughed out loud, snaring my parents’ attention. We had seen The Lion King in kindergarten together, and I had been traumatized by Scar. But later we reenacted the “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” scene, starting a long tradition of reliving favorite movie moments. Even when we were teenagers, I would still randomly knock him over and pin him like the two cubs had.

This was a safe enough topic. “I would love to see that movie right now,” I said aloud.

“We could put it in your laptop,” Gavin said.

“The TVs have DVD players.” I pointed at the screen.

“What movie is that?” Mom asked.

Bingo.

“ Lion King .”

“Oh yes, that always was one of your favorites. Once you got over Scar.” Mom looked over the reading glasses perched on her nose.

“You think you guys could run down to the hospital rental room and see if they have it?”

“They have such a thing here?” my dad asked.

“Yes, the volunteers who came by with the book cart told us.” Mom held up her copy of Smart Mouth Waitress . “Very nice ladies.”

“Please?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing what else they had,” my dad said.

They were going to do it.

Mom set her book down. “Any second choices in case no Lion King ?”

“Oh, just pick something.” I glanced over at Gavin to see if he was pleased our ploy had worked, but his jaw was ticking. Something big was going on. I immediately felt my chest tighten and the cough come on. I needed to hold it in until my parents left, or they might not go. I breathed in and out with care, trying to relax.

Mom stood up from the sofa and straightened her skirt. “We’ll be right back.”

I wanted to say, “No hurry,” but I was afraid to talk, or the coughing might start. I just nodded.

As soon as they were out the door, I exhaled in a big rush, scrambling for the box of heavy tissues that the nurses had placed there after reattaching the paper towel dispenser. Each expulsion brought up more goo. I so wanted this to stop, especially the suction treatments.

The cough was deep and rattly, making my breathing sound like a car with a loose muffler. Gavin stood up, rubbing my back until it all calmed.

“What did the doctor say?”

“I’ll get another X-ray tomorrow, but he was pleased.”

“Are you blowing balls again?” His eyes crinkled at the corners.

I smacked his knee. “You wish.” A stray black hair fell over my eye, and I blew it out of the way, almost regretting it, as the cough threatened again. “I don’t think I’ve graduated to the ball test again yet.”

“But you seem better.” He seemed stuck on this point.

“You looking to resume our little activity the other night?” I had to admit, I did miss that. If I didn’t think I’d end up flinging phlegm, I’d get him started in a heartbeat. But right now, I had to get better.

He sat back in the chair, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. I knew that pose too. He had something to say, something hard. I swallowed, refusing to let my chest tense up. “What is it, Gavin? What’s getting to you?”

He sighed, a long low breath that made tears spring to my eyes. This was bad, really bad.

“I got a call a couple days ago. Friday.”

“Right. The day you disappeared. The…prostitute.”

“I met with her today.”

Panic zinged through me, my heart thudding against the cotton gown. “You said she was dragging you into her family business. It’s still going on?”

“Yes. I’m going to have to deal with it.” He still wouldn’t look up.

“Can you tell me what it is?”

“I’m afraid to. You’re still so fragile. I don’t want to upset you.”

“I’m already upset. Let’s just get through it.”

He tried to hold my eyes, but eventually dropped his gaze to my hands. “It’s a girl I used to see in Mexico. She — she was there from the beginning. She worked in a little store I went to after my surgery when I was in pain and didn’t know what to do.”

“In a store? I thought she was a prostitute.”

“I saw her again, on a street corner, later. She needed the money.”

“That was a long time ago.”

He looked up again. “Yes. Yes it was.” His voice caught. “But she’s here right now.”

“In San Diego?”

“Yes. She wants me to do a test, and I’m going to have to do it.”

“A test? For what?” The fear reached a zenith, and I didn’t think my chest could contain the intense thrumming of my heart anymore.

“For her son.”

I washed cold. If she wanted a test with her son and with Gavin, then she — I couldn’t even let my mind think it. I had to shut it off.

“See, this is too much. Let me kill the lights. You need rest.”

“No. Let’s get this out. Is he yours?”

“I don’t think so. Her family asked me to go away, said she was using me to save her, get her to the US. I don’t know. I just want to do the test and get it over.”

I wanted to throw up, to cry. And I really, really wanted to hold my breath, to disappear into the black. But that had been a disaster last time. I had to stop it. I had to face things without escaping. The held-back tears flowed into my throat, making it sticky and thick. I barely got out my next question. “How old is he?”

His eyes went back to the floor. “He’s three. Coming up on four. In February.”

Oh, God. I counted back the months. He would have to have been conceived in May, within weeks of Finn’s funeral.

I couldn’t take it. I threw back the covers and turned my legs to the side to stand up.

“No, don’t get up. Please, go back to bed. You’re not ready.” Gavin stood over me, hands on my shoulders.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me.” I didn’t intend to say it, or to growl, but it just came, like an involuntary response.

“I know it looks bad. It was bad. Shit.” He dropped back in his chair. “If you want me to leave right now, I will. But if it turns out okay—”

I leaned over the side rail, hanging on, grateful for the support. Of all the things that I could have imagined, Gavin having a child with another woman was the biggest nightmare. The worst. Irrevocable. Unfixable. Life-altering.

How could he make such a mistake? How could he have a son with some other woman and take away the chance to ever have one with me?

I pressed a hand against my throat, willing the cough away, trying to breathe. I wanted to scream, and if we had been anywhere else, I might have. Instead I clutched the rail as though I were back out at sea, and this was the lifeline that would take me to some other shore.

Gavin didn’t move near me, didn’t try to touch me again. He just waited, head down. I tried to put myself in his position. Angry. Confused. He had to have so many questions. Now that the initial shock was wearing off, I had them too. I sat back on the bed, still holding the rail. “I thought you said you had the surgery checked. That it worked.”

“Nobody told me how long it took. It’s not immediate.” His skin was ashen, and his eyes so haunted. My heart broke for him then. He thought I would walk away. And I wanted to, but I wouldn’t. I’d be here. I’d see him through this.

I shifted back on the bed and tucked my legs beneath the sheets again. This was it. I had to get well. I needed out of this hospital, back in the real world. I wanted to help him through this.

“How trustworthy is this woman?” My voice came out stronger than I thought it would.

His hands were clasped together so tight that his knuckles were white. “I have no idea. I don’t really know her much at all.”

That was good. I began to breathe easier. So he had done the surgery, felt indebted to this woman for helping him. They’d ended up together. I just had to accept these things. She meant nothing to him. He only wanted to clear his name. “Well, then let’s get the test done and send her packing.”