88: Crazy, Hyperactive, Argumentative Self

Ginger

      Pam! I scream in my head and sit bolt upright in bed. Two more seconds pass, and I'm up, getting dressed, wanting to go to the hospital to see my best friend.

      Last night, Desmond had to give me a sedative to get me to calm down, but I'm wide awake now.

      "Ginger, why don't you call and find out what's going on first?" Desmond asks in a grouchy voice from his bed. I spend all my time here at his house, and I'm planning on selling mine.

      "I'm going there whether or not she's awake," I state resolutely and continue getting ready. I try to put on my shoes while still standing, and I lose my balance and fall over. Guess that sedative is still in me somewhat.

      "Well, wait for me. I'll hurry up and get dressed. You're not driving yourself," he growls like a bear.

      "Fine. Hurry up. I'll go make coffee," I offer while he grumbles about crazy, hyperactive, redheaded women. "Love you too!" I call out facetiously on my way down the stairs.

      Honestly, I have no earthly clue why I love him. He's a jerk, but I love him. I think it might be because when he's not a jerk, it's really wonderful, and his jerkiness isn't unbearable. Most of the time, I can laugh at it.

      Not to mention the sex is incredible.

      I tap my foot in an irritated fashion while I wait for the coffeemaker to hurry up.

      "I keep telling you; tapping your foot doesn't make it work faster," Desmond teases when he walks into the kitchen, and I turn around to give him an impatiently peeved look. He purses his lips, takes a step in my direction, and wraps his arms around me before he says, "She'll be okay."

      "I want to see for myself. I don't want to make a phone call. I don't want to hear someone else tell me. Even if she's somehow able to talk on the phone, I want to see for myself. I can't just do nothing!" I fidget while he steadfastly holds me.

      "And we're going; stop worrying." After I reach for the finally finished coffeepot, he scolds, "No coffee for you."

      "What?! I need coffee! I'm still drowsy. That's why I'm fighting it like this. I need the coffee to help fight it. I have to get to the hospital. You said we could go in the morning, and it's morning. I need that coffee, and so help me, if you don't get out of my way,-"

      "You'll what?" he challenges and folds his arms in front of him with a smirk.

      "Desmond!" I scream. "Give me that damn coffee!" I burst into tears.

      "Okay, okay. Shh." Instantly, smart-ass Desmond has been replaced by my compassionate fiancé, and I find myself back in his arms while I bawl out all my fear and helpless frustration. "Even though I'm going on record as saying that I think it's a bad idea given your current state, you can have some coffee. I'll put it in one of those thermos cups, and we can take it with us."

      I mutely nod, remembering how scared I was yesterday. There I was, being completely self-centered and wanting to finally tell everyone I was engaged, and Pam was suffering. Then she collapsed, and all I could think was that the last thing I talked about with her was me, me, me.

      Now that I look back on it, I can easily understand Desmond's demand that I take the sedative. I was a nutcase.

      "I don't have to have the coffee," I mumble complacently.

      "After you fought so hard for it? Take it. If you start losing it again, we'll do something about it. I'd rather you get what you want than you freaking out again."

      "I love you," I say, take his face in my hands, and kiss him quickly.

      The smirk returns, and he says, "Lucky me."

      "You know it."

      You know those people that walk their dogs and how the dog pulls on the leash while not caring that it's simultaneously gagging itself? That perfectly describes Desmond trying to keep me from sprinting across the parking lot when we get to the hospital.

      Three-oh-nine, three-oh-nine, three-oh-nine, three-oh-nine, I mentally chant.

      "What if they moved her?" I ask Desmond as we ride the elevator.

      "Then we'll find out where she went," he answers patiently.

      They didn't. After I lightly tap on the door twice, I hear Simon say I can come in.

      Pam sits up in the bed, looking like death warmed over. Dark circles surround her eyes. She looks like she's been knocked out by a prize fighter.

      "Hey," she says and forces a smile.

      My eyes dart to Simon for a moment, and I notice he looks exhausted. I wonder how much he's slept.

      "Hey," I repeat back, at a loss for something else to say. Going back to the dog allusion, I'm now the dog that chased a car and has actually caught the car it chased. What do I do now? I stand here mutely, unmoving.

      "I'll be okay, Ginger," she tells me sweetly, and I cry again.

      She reaches out for me, and I walk over to the bed to hug her gently. I have never, never, ever seen Pam so much as sick with a cold. She's… magical like that, so this is a shock to see her so fragile.

      I hear from her how she lost the baby, and we both cry together before purposefully changing the subject to when she might get out, where Jeremy is… anything but the lost life.

      "You're a mess," she tells me while trying to wipe under my cheekbones.

      I playfully roll my eyes. "I know. I don't know what I was thinking by putting on makeup. Habit, I guess." More like something to do on the car ride over here.

      I end up insisting to fix her hair into a pretty braid before Bryce and Erin walk in. Pam looks grateful now that I helped her appearance somewhat for Bryce's sake. She's very protective over her little brother, even if he's not so little anymore, and I knew it would bother her for Bryce to see her like she looked when I'd walked in a few hours ago. I tell her bye for now and let her visit with her brother and sister-in-law. Oops! No. I mentally laugh now. Well, it's only a matter of time anyway.

      Desmond stands talking on the phone in the empty waiting room. "Listen to your conscience. What's it telling you to do? … Well, that's selfish. … Yes, I know that." He turns around and sees me, and he cracks half a smile before getting an irritated expression on his face again. "Exactly! That's why you have to do this! … Tell me how that makes sense then, please, because I don't understand it."

      Quietly, I have a seat in a nearby chair and listen to Desmond argue with someone, wondering who it is but knowing it's not my business.

      When he hangs up, he angrily looks at his phone and says, "Ginger, I love you, but I will never understand what makes women think the way they do. What a selfish, vindictive bitch." He looks up, and his eyes widen suddenly. "Not you."

      "I was going to guess as much," I say with a small smile.

      He sighs, sticks his phone in his pocket, and walks over to me with his hand out. I put my hand in his, and he pulls me to standing before wrapping his arms around me.

      "You look much calmer now," he points out.

      "Yes, and I'm very tired all of a sudden." I rest my head on his shoulder. We rock back and forth a tiny bit, and I say, "I thought you weren't working today."

      "You know me. Workaholic. Since I had a minute, I hoped to catch her off guard with her not expecting to hear from me today," he explains before letting out a breath like he's trying to shake off some stress.

      "Let's go get some ice cream," I say, and he laughs.

      "My earlier statement still stands." He chuckles again before he says, "All right."

      While we eat the ice cream, I fill in Desmond about everything about Pamela.

      "She's crushed; I know she is," I say sadly.

      "But she can have another one, right?" he asks.

      "Yeah, when her body heals enough, but it's not the same." I turn my cone to keep ice cream from dripping everywhere. When I turn to look at Desmond, I see him staring at me with a contemplative, calculating expression. "What?"

      "Do you want kids?" he asks outright.

      For the second time today, I'm shocked dumb. I feel my eyes widen as I stare at him.

      "Your ice cream is melting."

      "Do you?" I ask instead of pay attention to my ice cream.

      "Let's talk about it in a minute. Finish your ice cream first." He puts the remaining end of his cone in his mouth, finishing it.

      "You expect me to eat while waiting for a conversation like that?!" I squeal.

      "Your cone is quickly becoming a real mess," he says, staring at my hand.

      "You don't want them, do you," I state more than ask.

      "I didn't say that."

      "You implied it."

      "No, I didn't. I just asked you if you wanted them. Eat your ice cream, Ginger."

      I glare at him and take the cone in my other hand before purposefully smearing the ice cream all over my fingers. His eyes darken before he suddenly grabs my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth, and he licks the ice cream off them slowly, watching me watch him. With my free hand holding the ice cream cone, I bring it to my mouth and very, very slowly circle my tongue around the top of the ice cream. He stops what he's doing and watches me.

      Two can play at this game.

      "Mmmmmm… this is really good," I tell him.

      He says in a low, careful, quiet voice, "We're in a public park. If it weren't public, I'd have you bent over this bench in three seconds."

      "It'd take you that long?" I taunt and give the ice cream another sensual pass with my tongue.

      "You know, surprisingly, it's not very crowded right now, and this is somewhat shaded from view…"

      "Can't you get arrested for doing that?" I ask with a smirk.

      "Only if you get caught," he counters, and the look in his eyes makes my panties want to drop to the ground of their own free will.

      "Hm. Guess we'll never know," I say, shrugging with fake nonchalance.

      Before I can react, he takes my ice cream cone, shoves it in my shocked, open mouth, and carries me over his shoulder off into the nearby wooded area. Sonofa… Now I can't argue with him because my mouth is full of ice cream cone! I still let him know how much I 'appreciate' being man-handled.

      "Three seconds, even though we don't have the benefit of the bench," he says as he jerks my panties down, turns me around, pushes me over, and drives himself into me.

      I fight the cone out of my mouth and say, "That was five."

      He tightly grasps my shoulder and leans forward over me to say into my ear, "Better be quiet. You don't want to get arrested, do you?"

      I have to clamp a hand over my mouth and hold onto a nearby tree with the other while Desmond roughly fucks me. I love listening to his breathing when he gets close. It's so damn hot.

      He lets me enjoy my orgasm for… three… seconds before he gets consumed by his own.

      Once we've fixed our clothing, he turns to me, grabs my face, and kisses me wildly.

      Later, he says, "To answer the question, I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it, but now that I have… Look at us. Look at me. Can you see me being a father? My parents were assholes. My adopted parents are assholes. It's not like I've had a good role model."

      I run my finger over his goatee that got some ice cream on it when he kissed me. "Yes. I can see you being a daddy. Look at me also, since we're doing this. My mom is in jail for killing my dad. I didn't have great parents either, but all around me are great parents. Pam and Simon, for one. Then there's Troy and the strong bond he has with his mom."

      "Yes, but us?" he asks in a pained voice.

      "You don't want them," I state.

      "I'm scared to death of being a father. I don't want to destroy some poor kid's life." He looks worriedly down at me.

      "Give yourself more credit. But if you don't want any, I'm fine with that. I'm scared too. I just want you." I try my best to smile reassuringly.

      "You're going to change your mind. Deep down, you want them."

      "If I do, I don't want one for a long time, so we'll be fine."

      He holds my face in his hands. "I don't want to disappoint you later on."

      "As long as you stay you, you can't. Who else can put up with my crazy, hyperactive, argumentative self?"

      " 'Put up with'? Those are the reasons I love you," he says, smiling widely, and I have to kiss him, sticky ice cream still on my lips and all.

83: Controlling My Emotions

     The shiny tiles under my feet reflect the electric lights above them, sometimes interrupted by a nurse or someone else walking by. Things are a lot calmer up here on whatever floor of the hospital this is than they were down in the ER. Thank goodness we didn't have to stay there.

     Nearby, Marie plays with Jer-jer, keeping the child entertained like a pro, while I sit here, useless.

     Bryce is with his sister in her hospital room. It's a small room, and I didn't want to take up space.  Adele has gone back and forth from me to her aunt, not quite knowing what to do. At first, she tried to help watch Jeremy but couldn't keep from crying. Marie told her that she'd be fine watching the toddler.

     Back at the house, everything exploded in slow motion as Simon fought to bring Pamela back around. When he did, her eyes opened wide with fear, and she gasped out, "The baby!" Then, she fainted again. Jesse and Bryce decided to drive her here themselves in Bryce's car with Simon holding her, thinking that'd be faster than waiting for an ambulance. The hospital isn't terribly far away from Pam's house. Desmond and Ginger brought everyone else later. By the time we got here, they'd already admitted Pam.

     Ginger didn't stick around long because she couldn't sit still and had worked herself into a panic attack. Desmond took her home with a promise to hear from Bryce or me if anything new had happened. Bryce called most everyone and found out Lynne has left the island for a few days.

     I tap my toes on the floor, one foot at a time, while I wait, scared for Bryce but thinking he doesn't want to see me right now. After I'd opened my present earlier, he'd opened his, some name brand sunglasses (that don't reflect back at me), and thanked me with a forced smile, but when Adele left the room, neither of us spoke. He went upstairs to play on the computer. Later, on the way to Pam's, he talked to me again, and I thought that the awkward, stressful moment had ended. But he hasn't spoken to me since.

     An exhausted sigh comes from down the hall, and I turn my head, hoping it's Bryce. It's not. Jesse comes loping towards us, his eyes on the floor. Mine go back to doing the same.

     I listen quietly as Jesse tells Marie, letting me also know, that Pam got a massive hemorrhage and lost the baby. The doctors say that she should be fine eventually after plenty of rest. My shoulders slump with the news, thinking how crushed she must be if she knows. We hadn't known for sure before what was wrong with her.

     "I… offered our help to babysit Jeremy," Jesse tells Marie like he worries this will upset her.

     "At your house?" she asks, not sounding like she minds.

     "No, he said we could go to his since all the stuff is there," he answers, and I hear Adele next to me.

     "Can I go too? I can help watch him," she quietly pleads, sounding like she's had enough of the hospital.

     "Of course you can!" Marie tells Adele brightly. "We'd love the help. Go tell your dad, though." I love how she makes it sound like she could really use the help and not suspecting that Adele just wants to escape.

     Marie is great with kids. I don't know how she does it.

     "Okay!" she tells my new best friend eagerly and runs off to tell Bryce.

     Jesse acts like his thoughts parallel mine (but obviously in a more romantic way) as he quickly and passionately kisses Marie. I look away. Then I hear Jeremy babble something to Marie, and the two of them break apart before she answers the toddler, somehow knowing what he said.

     I should go. Maybe if Bryce is still mad at me, I could sleep in Adele's room… or on the couch… or go back to my house… I wipe a tear from my eye before it can roll down my face.

     "Are you okay, Erin?" Jesse asks me. I didn't know he was looking at me.

     No. "Yes. I'm just tired," I lie quickly.

     After a slight pause, Jesse tells us, "I'll be right back."

     "Daddy said I could," Adele announces to him before he gets very far.

     "That's good. I'm gonna talk to him for a sec, run go get my car, and then we'll go," he responds.

     I could walk, I think in regards to how I'd get back to Bryce's house… or my house. I could call um… Belinda… or somebody.

     I miss Bill. I miss my brother. I could always count on him for stuff like this. I quickly work at controlling my emotions. I'd called him and Mom earlier while Bryce was upstairs on the computer, and he'd said he missed me too.

     "It'll be okay."

     I jump, startled, as Jesse sits next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder, giving me a friendly, one-armed hug. Then, they all walk down the hallway to the exit, Marie saying something about going to the vending machines for a snack while they wait for Jesse.

     As their chatter gets farther and farther away, the scary almost-silence of the hospital wraps around me like a frayed, tattered blanket.

     Desperate for something to do now, I pull out my phone and check my email. Then, I check Facebook, something I haven't done in a while. Sean sent me a PM wishing me Merry Christmas, even though I'd un-friended him.

     I burst into tears.

     What's wrong with me?! Why am I crying?! So Bryce is mad at me. Things like this happen. It doesn't mean he hates me.

     Pam is going to be fine.

     Does Bryce even need me right now?

     If Bryce needed me to comfort him about his sister, he'd let me know, but he did nothing but give me the cold shoulder in the hospital room. Even if it wasn't because he's mad at me, he still doesn't need me. This isn't about me. He has his own problems and doesn't want my help.

     Why did he have to buy me jewelry and get it in that sized box?!

     Christmas sucks donkey testicles!

     I bring my lips in and lightly bite down on the inside while I urgently swing my legs back and forth. My hands tightly grip the vinyl cushion upon which I sit.

     I should go.

     After standing up, I make my way to the exit, wondering if I can catch one of the cabs.

     It's okay. It's okay. I'll go to my house. Bryce can let off steam or do whatever and not have to worry about pathetic me hanging around, getting on his nerves and making a bad situation worse with my presence.

     "Erin, where are you going?" I hear Bryce ask behind me a ways.

     Short breaths, eyes shut tight, I keep from losing it. "U-um, ho-ome," I answer, not turning to face him.

     Where the fuck is 'home'? My hands come up, and I run my fingers through my hair. Since Bryce says nothing else, I start walking again.

     "And how are you getting there?" he wonders, sounding closer.

     "I-I don't know. Walk. Maybe get lucky enough to find a cab. Call Belinda. Something." I keep walking.

     "That's fine. I guess you don't have to wait if you don't want to. I don't blame you."

     I let out a huff of air and turn around to face my boyfriend.

     He speaks since I don't. "Do you want to grab a bite to eat before you go? I mean, I know we have that leftover lasagna in the fridge, but it'd be nice to have something fresher."

     Why does that feel like he just asked me out? Have we gone backwards to that point?

     "No. It's okay. I'm not really hungry anyway. I had a pack of peanut butter crackers from the vending machine earlier."

     "Oh. All right. I'll see you later then," he says stiffly, and I walk out of the building into the warm night.

Bryce

     My heart aching, I walk to the window and watch as Erin gets in a cab. She'd mentioned walking, but I wasn't about to let her do that at this hour no matter how upset she is.

     She thought I was going to put her on the spot and ask her to marry me earlier today! And I very clearly saw her answer: no. It's not like I didn't know she wasn't ready; she's not. Still, that stung horribly. I had to go upstairs so I wouldn't say something stupid. She didn't bother following me; I probably scared her.

     I walk back into the hospital room, and Simon lifts his head up from where he'd apparently had it down on his folded arms. His bloodshot eyes silently look back at me.

     "Hey man, do you need anything?" I ask, hating seeing the pain and fear on his face. Pam had come close to dying, but those doctors somehow got everything under control. She's still bleeding, but they say she's stable.

     "No, and you should go," he says, his voice sounding stronger at the end than the beginning.

     "You sure?"

     "Yeah. I'm staying." His hand holds hers.

     I ask him to call me if anything happens, and he promises he will. Then I walk out of the room into the quiet hallway.

     I could've driven Erin home after all.

     She didn't want to be around me anyway.

     Well… too damn bad because we're having a talk when I get home. She won't like having that talk, but I need it after what I saw on her face earlier. I have to find out if she ever plans on getting married, if the idea has ever entered her mind, or if she's just using me as some boy toy. Not saying get married soon, just ever.

     "Erin?" I call out when I walk in the house, and there's no answer. Did she go to sleep? She looked tired earlier. Maybe the talk can wait. She really looked upset too.

     Wait…

     "Erin?" I call out again, this time a little louder. She doesn't answer as I bound up the stairs two at a time.

     When I run into the bedroom, the bed is still made… and empty.

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Sorry for the sub-par pictures.