Hey guys! This is a one-shot from Wes's POV the night Delia's baby is born and Macy breaks down because of her memories concerning the hospital. I hope you like it! I love constructive criticism, but don't be too harsh :) Disclaimer: ALL RIGHTS GO TO SARAH DESSEN. I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS.
"Are you okay?" I asked for around the millionth time, looking back to her over at the doors. The bright, glowing-red exit sign illuminated the setting sun outside as an ambulance pulled lazily onto the curb under the overhang. A tired-looking first responder ambled through the doors, side-stepping Macy. He didn't even care enough to wonder why she was standing, in the middle of the exit, blankly staring and looking on the verge of passing out. I had a slight feeling maybe I did though.
Delia had already been carted off in her wheelchair, Pete taking her up to their room. The entire ride to the hospital, Macy, Kristy, and I had fought Bert's annoying panting, Delia's breathing exercises and Pete's nervous complaints about traffic as he drove way too fast across the roads in the Bert mobile. Macy, though, didn't seem to care about Pete or Delia or even Bert, despite his heavy breathing blowing her hair around her face in the small, hot space. She had her hands tightly grasped together, concentrating hard at something on the floor. A blank stare remained on her face as we finally escaped the van and hauled Delia out to check in, slowly easing her huffing and puffing huge stomach out of the back. Macy followed slowly, and only as I looked back to make sure she was following did I see she was fighting to keep her head up and was breathing in and out slowly, almost like Delia, but in a more nervous, panicky way. Instinctively, I knew it must have been about her dad. If she had been there, in the ambulance with him like I knew she had been a couple years back, I didn't blame for never wanting to come in this place that probably was associated with all bad things again. It didn't even matter that there could be and would be a different outcome tonight. A life beginning, not ending.
I turned around once more to see her stutter to a stop in the entrance. I took a few steps toward her, concerned as I asked her what I was sure would be the first of many times. "Hey," I said, reaching out to her, even though there was a few feet between us, "Are you okay?"
She nodded, too fast, and I saw easily that she was still wondering why she had decided to come. After all, she had ditched the booth she was supposed to be working at for her mother to come support Delia, something I was already feeling bad about. I should have offered to drive her home, but we only had one car, so I didn't have much of an option. But the look on her face as she suddenly snapped her head up and began walking with the most determined look toward the nurse's desk, it made me want to reach out to her, wrap my arms around her and tell her that she didn't have to pretend for me. We could go home. She didn't always have to be this strong Macy, the one who confronted her fears and marched into situations she didn't want to be in. She could cry, or say no, and that would be okay with me. It only hurts worse when you see someone trying to hold themselves together when you know they plan on falling apart all alone. For some reason, Macy was one of those people who just decided to grieve and struggle without showing it. But I wouldn't condemn her for that, never. I had done the same thing when my mom had died.
I just wished Macy would have realized that I, more than anyone, wanted her to let me in. Even if we were just friends.
After sitting outside the hospital room for ages as I asked Macy how she was so many times I was surprised she didn't kill me and ate chocolate doughnuts from the vending machine down in the lobby to pass the time while Macy stepped out to call her mom, Pete finally opened the door to share the news.
Delia's new baby had her dark, curly hair, perched in the little pink blanket on her mom's chest. She was beautiful, in an innocent and different way. So many people experiencing so many different things in this one building: grief, happiness, confusion. But here, with Delia's face glowing and Pete smiling so wide, I felt an overwhelming sense of family. Which included the beautiful blonde girl standing by the wall, staring with such a strange, sad look at the tiny baby. Macy. The girl who had made my summer worth spending, who told me all her truths, who let me in on secrets she didn't tell anyone else. From that night at the party when I found out about her dad from the stupid drunk Rachel and wished I could have taken her hand and comforted her instead of Kristy, to the night she told me about her mom, I had never sincerely wanted to know and understand someone more than I did her. We had something in common, a loss that pulled us together in this crazy world. Even though she had told me so much, shared so much of her like I had with myself, she was the one person I could never have the way I wanted to. And that's just the way it was. I wasn't going to say something without meaning it. I couldn't yet. With any other girl, yes. But not with Macy.
As I thought about this, I saw Macy's face suddenly contort and turn pale. I could feel Kristy staring at me, but all I saw was that flash of pain flit across Macy's face as she quickly turned from Delia's new life of happiness, turning towards the door. I recognized that mask of pain so well, but only because it had once been mine.
In the sudden quiet, Kristy staring, Delia blissfully unknowing, and Macy backing away, I felt compelled to say something to her that would let her know it was okay what she was doing. Grieving, or whatever you wanted to call it. But with everyone in the room, I wasn't about to tell her this out loud.
"I, um." Macy stammered, looking at the door. I kept my eyes on her carefully, willing her to look at me so she could know that I was here. She glanced up nervously and turned away, trying to reassure me.
"I need to go try my mom again," she swallowed.
Delia, completely unaware, nodded her head, still cooing at the baby. "Tell her I couldn't have done it without you. You were a real pro."
Macy nodded stiffly, and I could imagine her face, turned away from mine, fighting tears. "Macy." I said as she moved into the hallway. I ached to reach my hand out to hers and pull her into me, but something stopped me. I didn't need to complicate things. She had Jason, was always going back to him. I didn't need her to pity me.
"It's just," she said, swallowing hard again, "I need to talk to my mom. I mean, she's worried probably, and she's wondering where I am."
"Okay," I said, deciding it was better to let her go. "Sure."
She must have known she didn't have me convinced because she tried to continue. "So I'll just do that," she stammered. "Call my mom. And I'll be back."
I nodded as she disappeared from the doorway. "Okay, sure," I said after she was already out of sight.
When I turned back away from the door to see the baby once more, I could actually feel Kristy's eyes boring a hole into my back. I felt uncomfortable, knowing Macy was out there falling apart silently with no one to be there. And I realized in that moment that I wanted it to be me to comfort her and hold her. I wanted to be with her, to be the one who made her feel better. And even though I was trying to convince myself I didn't know what that meant, I knew. Of course I did.
So I didn't care what Kristy thought, or Delia, or Bert, as I told them I was leaving to go get some water. I only thought of Macy, so fragile and alone, sitting somewhere trying desperately just to get it right, whatever that meant, all by herself. And I knew from experience that it was never a good idea to do that alone. So I stepped out the door and went to look for her. It may not have been smart, and may have been exactly the kind of "complicated I had been trying to avoid, but I didn't care.
I had almost given up on the floor of Delia's room when I saw an empty alcove as I turned the corner into a long hallway, bright against the dark windows.
She was there, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as her sobs racked her body, quietly escaping from her mouth. But even though she was falling apart, she wasn't different. She was still my Macy, the one who told truths and lied about her running experience. I had seen her in so many different lights: shy and reserved at that first day of Wish catering, funny and sarcastic when we worked that job with her boyfriend's parents, tragic and tired and beaten down when she talked about her dad. With no makeup on at all and messy hair from catering a late-night job, with that symmetrical part and perfectly polished look her mother preferred, with Kristy's soft and tousled all-made-up version that turned my bones soft. And most importantly, the look on her face that night in my truck when she called me extraordinary. No matter what she looked like or said or did, she was still the Macy I knew. And even if she didn't officially belong to me, in that moment, it seemed like she did. I also realized that for all I cared, she already owned me.
This crying and letting go of whatever was bottling up inside her didn't make her look weaker to me: it showed me how strong she actually was. She was here, falling apart, but everyone had to do that now and then. It didn't change who she was to me, the girl with the laugh and glowing personality. Which is why I was able to sit down beside her and tentatively wrap my arms around her shaking shoulders. If she didn't want me, she could push me off and tell me she wanted to be alone. I wouldn't have cared as long as it was her.
When she didn't move away, I felt a thrill race through me as I gently slid my hand across her back to hold her in my arms. As I sat there, holding her gently, all I could think about was how lucky I was. I could have sat there forever, saying nothing, just simply being with her. But when she leaned over to put her head on my chest and cried without hesitation, my heart leapt as her tears soaked my shirt. Her being there with me, her hair draped over my shoulder, was a perfect moment. I didn't care when the nurse passed us in the hall and glanced at Macy's broken features. I didn't care that Kristy would grill me later about what I was doing with Macy if I wasn't going to tell her how I felt. I didn't care.
So I just rested my chin against the top of her head, and wished that this moment, right here, could have been my forever.