SWEET DREAMS, FRAGILE HEARTS
Chapter 14—Fear and Frustration
It was just before 7:00 am Monday when Mark walked into the hospital's gym and scanned the area in search of his friend. He and Troy had a long-standing routine, dating back to their days at Berkeley, of meeting three or four mornings a week to run, lift weights, or play basketball. He spotted Troy in the weight room doing bicep curls, and walked across the hardwood floor to the open door. Troy had obviously already been there awhile. His shirt was off, and his chest glistened with sweat. His hair was soaked too, and there were two empty water bottles on the floor near the weight bench.
"Yo, dude, did we change our meeting time?" Mark asked. "I thought we said seven."
"We did," Troy grunted. "I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep, so I figured I'd get an early start."
Mark frowned. Troy had always been an early bird, but the only times he'd know him to be this early was when Gabriella was away. Mark often teased him about being whipped, but the truth was, he couldn't blame Troy for his reluctance to leave Gabriella's bed. He felt the same way now that Kelly was a part of his life. There was something pretty perfect about waking up next to your lover and starting the day together.
"Where's Gabi?" Mark asked.
Troy shrugged. "At home."
"Is she okay?" Mark pressed.
Troy glanced up at him. "She's fine. Why?"
Mark's frown deepened. "She just had invasive surgery a week ago. I'm not sure 'fine' is an accurate assessment."
"She's sore, tired, and still has some discharge." Troy's voice held an edge of irritation. "She has a follow-up appointment with Dr. Grant on Thursday. Any other questions?"
"Yeah, what's your problem?" Mark asked pointedly. Troy's head dropped as he continued his curls, and Mark's eyes suddenly widened with realization. "Oh! So you mean she… and you can't…"
"Can't have sex until Dr. Grant says it's okay," Troy confirmed grimly. "So yeah, I'm a little… frustrated."
"How long has it been?" Mark asked.
Troy paused his exercise to answer. "3½ weeks. Almost four. Not since before her first surgery. We've never gone this long…" He bit his lip and resumed his curls at an almost frantic pace.
"Not even when she…?" Mark hesitated, knowing that Troy didn't like to talk about the attack Gabriella had barely survived more than a year earlier.
"Not even then," Troy finished for him. He paused to look up at his friend. "You know that I would never push her to do anything before she's ready, but…" He frowned miserably. "It's hard."
"And that's what got you out of bed so early this morning," Mark concluded. "The inability to do anything about that 'hardness.'" His mouth twisted into a smirk. "So no sex for Gabi… but why can't you do anything to relieve the pressure?"
Troy shook his head. "I could never ask her to do that for me when I can't reciprocate. I mean, she's offered, but… no. Besides, she's been too sore and tired to have much interest."
Mark laughed. "Dude, you know there are ways to take care of it by yourself, right?"
Troy shook his head again and drew a breath, but his words were cut off by another voice from the doorway.
"Aw, how touching," Carl Rogers sneered. "Bolton's got a bad case of blue balls. What's the matter, Bolton? Not satisfying the little woman anymore, so she decided to take her business elsewhere? Maybe I'll give her a call…"
Troy lunged off the weight bench in a flash, but fortunately, Mark's reflexes were equally quick. He placed himself between Carl and Troy, holding his friend back.
"Dude, you must have a death wish," Mark growled at Carl. "I strongly suggest that you get the hell out of here before Troy rips your head off. And I'm not talking about the one that's on your shoulders."
Carl paled, glancing between Troy and Mark as if measuring the validity of the threat, and hastily retreated.
"And stay the hell away from my wife," Troy spat in his wake.
Mark pushed him back to the weight bench, and Troy sat down with a thud. "Wow, you are a mess," he observed sympathetically.
Troy ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "It's not just about sex, man. Call me whipped if you want, but I miss the closeness I usually have with her. Cuddling up to watch a movie or tickling her until she loses her breath. Playing footsie with her at the dinner table. Getting in bed and just holding and kissing her. I'm pulling back because I'm afraid I'll lose control. I don't want to hurt her, and it's not fair to her to start something that I can't finish. I feel like I'm going to explode."
"Have you talked to her about it?" Mark asked, and then flinched. "Damn, when did we start sounding like a couple of girls?"
Troy laughed softly. "When we fell in love with a couple of girls." He grew serious again. "How do you start a conversation like that? 'I want you, but I can't have you, and I'm so unbelievably horny for you that I'm afraid I'll snap if I touch you.' That's crazy, man. Besides, she's been consumed with getting things ready for the reunion. I may have a few choice words for Taylor McKessie-Danforth when I see her this weekend. Dumping all this work on Gabriella... as if she doesn't have enough on her mind already."
"Maybe it's a good thing," Mark pointed out. "Kelly said Gabi's been really worried about not being able to get pregnant. Maybe all this reunion stuff is a good distraction for her."
Troy nodded grudgingly. "I suppose so. Taylor doesn't know that, though. She's just wrapped up in her own job and family."
"Well, look on the bright side," Mark said. "After this weekend, it'll all be over."
Troy finally grinned. "And she'll be all mine."
...~«ώ»~...
Gabriella stood up from the dining room table and stretched out her achy muscles. She'd been hunched over her laptop for hours, putting together a slide show for Ms. Darbus's retirement party. Ryan had planned to do it, but he'd gotten an emergency call to choreograph a show after the original choreographer had pulled out. He'd called her in a panic, and Gabriella had assured him that she'd get it done. She could see Troy's point about their friends taking advantage of her, but that was the role she had perfected over the years—good old reliable Gabriella. Maybe she was turning out to be a workaholic, just like her mom.
"Gosh, I hope not," she said to the empty room.
Besides, the extra work was a good distraction for Gabriella. It got her mind off the lingering achiness from her surgery, as well as Troy's recent change in behavior. It'd been awhile since they'd made love thanks to her back-to-back surgeries, not that she would've felt up to it even if Dr. Grant had given them the go-ahead. What she missed most was the intimacy that she and Troy usually had. He didn't seem to be touching her as much, and when he did it was almost clinical rather than romantic. That, in addition to the still-healing red incisions that dotted her stomach and abdomen, fueled her insecurities. She had no doubt that Troy loved her, but what if he had grown tired of waiting to start a family? It wasn't his fault they hadn't conceived, it was hers. No matter how many times he told her it didn't matter, she couldn't help but feel like she was letting him down.
Sighing with frustration, she flopped back down in her seat. I have to get this done, she reminded herself. It was Wednesday, and she was flying to Albuquerque the next day, right after her follow-up appointment with Dr. Grant. Troy had to work a long shift on Friday, so he wouldn't get to Albuquerque until Saturday morning, but Gabriella was making the trip early so she and Taylor could coordinate their work and wrap up the final details for the reunion. After the reunion on Saturday and show on Sunday, Troy and Gabriella planned to spend the rest of the day with Lucille and Grandma Bolton to celebrate Mothers Day, and then fly back to San Francisco together early Monday morning. It would be a busy weekend, but Gabriella was excited for the visit. Then, she hoped, things could finally get back to normal.
...~«ώ»~...
Late Thursday evening, Troy sat anxiously on the sofa, waiting for Gabriella to call. Her flight was supposed to have landed more than an hour ago, and he was beginning to get worried. She'd called him after her appointment with Dr. Grant to let him know that everything was fine, but he'd been on his way to the operating room with a patient and hadn't really had time to talk. He'd cut her off with a hasty, "Love you, gotta go," before switching off his phone. By the time surgery was over, she was already in the air, and he regretted that he hadn't gotten to see her before she left.
Troy picked up the remote control and switched on the television. He flipped through the channels, but nothing caught his attention. He looked at his watch for what seemed like the millionth time, and then grabbed his phone, his thumb hovering indecisively over the Call button. It suddenly sprang to life in his palm, and he answered the call without checking the Caller ID.
"Hello?" he answered anxiously, but the female voice on the other end was not the one he was expecting to hear.
"Troy, it's Mom," she said. "What time did you say Gabriella's flight was supposed to arrive? We've been at the airport for almost an hour, and she hasn't come out yet."
Troy frowned as he ran a hand through his hair. "She was supposed to touch down at 9:15 Mountain Time. Have you tried calling her?"
"Her phone's not on," Lucille reported. "It goes straight to voicemail. And I called Taylor—she hasn't heard from her either."
"Has the flight landed?" Troy pressed anxiously.
"I don't know," Lucille told him. "We were supposed to meet her at the rental car pick-up. We haven't been inside the terminal."
"Okay, I'll get online and check the flight status," he told her as he went to retrieve his laptop from the desk. It seemed to take forever for the computer to boot up, but when Troy clicked to sign on to the Internet, his heart stopped. "Dear God," he breathed as he stared at the news photo on the home page. It was a plane on a runway, surrounded by emergency vehicles.
"Troy? Troy! What is it?" Lucille nearly shouted into the phone.
"I'll call you right back," he told her and slammed the phone shut before he heard her protest.
His heart was in his throat as he skimmed the news article, piecing the story together with a few keywords: Bound for Albuquerque. Diverted to Phoenix. Cockpit fire. Emergency landing. Serious injuries. Possible fatality. He didn't need to see the airline or flight number to know that his wife had been on that flight. His phone rang again, and he answered with a frantic 'hello.'
"Troy, don't you dare hang up on me again," his mother scolded. "What's going on? We're on our way to the terminal, and there are news trucks here. Did something happen at the airport?"
"Gabriella's flight had to make an emergency landing," he forced out through the knot in his throat. "They diverted to Phoenix… and there are injuries… Mom, what if she's…" Troy choked up, unable to continue. The scenario taking shape in his mind was inconceivable.
"I'm sure she's okay, Troy," Lucille soothed.
"Then why hasn't she called?" he challenged.
"I don't know," she answered, slightly out of breath. "Okay, Troy, we're in the terminal now, and it looks like there are some reps from the airline here. We'll see what we can find out, and I'll call you right back." She hung up as swiftly as Troy had minutes earlier.
Troy's fingers flew over the keys of his laptop as he searched for more information about what had happened. He tried to tamp down the panic that threatened to swallow him whole. Gabriella didn't really like flying that much, mainly because of her chronic airsickness. He couldn't even fathom how terrified she must be, and he cursed himself for not being there with her. He was ready to hop in the car and drive to Phoenix to get her, but he wasn't even sure she was there anymore. There seemed to be conflicting reports about where the passengers had been taken after they had been evacuated from the plane.
The phone rang again, and Troy heard his mother's voice before he even got the phone up to his ear.
"Troy, are you there? Hold on, your dad's checking the flight manifest. They told us that there were a number of injuries, but they're not releasing any names right now. They put the uninjured passengers on another flight. They're due to arrive here in about 45 minutes."
Troy shook his head. "I can't imagine that Gabriella would get on another flight after making an emergency landing. She'd be terrified. She must still be in Phoenix. I'm going to try to call her."
"I just tried," Lucille told him. "Still nothing. All we can do is wait." She hesitated. "Do you think we should call Maria?"
A bitter laugh rumbled from Troy's chest. "Don't bother."
"Son, she deserves to know," Lucille chided. "Gabriella is her only child."
"Whatever, Mom," he said angrily. "Do what you want. I'm going to go to the airport and see if I can still catch a flight there tonight."
"Wait, Troy," she said sharply. "It's stupid to fly here when you don't even know where she is. She could be in Phoenix, or on her way back to San Francisco. You need to stay put until we hear from her."
"But I can't sit around and do nothing," he argued.
"Call your friends and see if they can come over and wait with you," she suggested.
He opened his mouth to argue before realizing that she was right. "Okay, I'll do that. Call me as soon as you hear anything, okay?"
"I will," Lucille assured him. "And try to stay calm. We'll find her."
...~«ώ»~...
Forty minutes later, Kelly sat in the Boltons' living room. Mark was still at the hospital, but Kelly had rushed over as soon as she'd gotten Troy's call. Troy paced the length of the living room while Kelly sat on the couch, wringing her hands anxiously. They both jumped when a phone rang, but Troy deflated when he realized that it was Kelly's, not his. He continued to pace as he listened to her side of the conversation.
"Hi," she answered curtly. "No, we haven't heard anything. I don't know, Mark. What? Okay, I'll tell him. I know, me too. Okay, love you, bye."
She pushed the End button and looked up to see Troy staring at her. "What?" she asked.
"That was like my last conversation with Gabriella," he told her miserably. "I was on my way to surgery when she called, and I couldn't talk. I cut her off." He circled the couch and flopped down beside Kelly, dropping his head into his hands. "What if that was the last time… I don't even remember if I told her I loved her."
"She knows you love her, Troy," Kelly soothed. "Geez, everyone in San Francisco knows you love her."
That forced a choked laugh out of him. Troy's phone rang then, and he dove for it, reading "Mom—Cell" on the screen. When he put the phone to his ear, he heard someone crying, and dread coursed through his body.
"Mom? What's going on? Mom!" he yelled into the phone, pushing up off the sofa.
"Troy?" a tiny voice replied, and he sunk to his knees on the floor, weak with relief.
"Gabriella? Thank God! Baby, are you okay? We were so worried. Are you hurt? What happened?" He paused, trying to slow his racing heart, and heard a faint sob on the other end.
There was some shuffling, and then his dad's voice boomed down the line. "Troy, Gabriella is here in Albuquerque. She's safe. She's not hurt, but she's pretty upset. Your mom's trying to calm her down. We're going to get her in the car and away from the crowd. We'll call you back in a few minutes."
"No, Dad, don't hang up," Troy pleaded. "I want to hear what's going on there. You don't have to talk, just keep me on the line."
"Okay, fine," Jack agreed tightly.
There was a lot of commotion at the other end of the line, and Troy strained to hear Gabriella's voice in the background. Kelly watched him, wide-eyed, trying to interpret his conflicting facial expressions. His parents must have been approaching the terminal's exit—Troy heard reporters shouting questions at them while his dad gruffly ordered them out of the way. He could swear he heard Gabriella whimper amidst the chaos.
"Troy?" Kelly whispered fearfully.
"She's okay," he told her softly.
"Thank God," she breathed, scooping her phone off the coffee table to call Mark.
She was talking to her fiancé when Troy heard a soft gasp in his ear.
"Gabriella? Sweetie, is that you? Talk to me," he said loudly, motioning for Kelly to lower her voice.
"I'm here," she answered, her voice shaky.
Troy let out the breath he hadn't even known he was holding. "Are you okay? Baby, I was so worried about you. Can you tell me what happened?"
"I'm okay," she told him dully.
"I'm going to see if I can get my flight changed," he rambled on. "I'll be there either tonight or first thing in the morning. I'll let you know when I have flight details."
"No, Troy, don't fly tonight," she begged. He could feel her fear crackling across the phone line. "Please!"
"But I want to be there, with you," he argued. "I'll be fine…"
"No!" she shrieked. She drew a deep breath, as if to calm herself. "Troy, you need to work tomorrow," she told him. "You have the next three days off. Please, don't change your flight. I'm okay. I'll see you when you get here."
Troy hesitated, torn. Finally, he relented. "All right, if you're sure. But I want you to call me whenever you need to talk, anytime, day or night. Agreed?" He waited for her agreement before he continued. "I love you, Gabriella."
"I love you too," she murmured just before slapped the phone shut.
...~«ώ»~...
Gabriella sat in the back seat of the Boltons' car, stunned. Her overtaxed mind struggled to sort out the crazy sequence of events from the past few hours. There had been a fire in the cockpit. In the mayhem, one of the pilots had suffered a heart attack. Gabriella couldn't see the crew's resuscitation efforts from her seat, but word eventually spread among the passengers that the older man had died. Their landing in Phoenix had been rough, considering that some of the controls and instruments had been damaged in the fire. The passengers had been instructed to brace for impact, but the co-pilot had somehow managed to get them on the ground in one piece. Several passengers in First Class had suffered smoke inhalation, and a few had been hit with luggage that fell from the overhead storage bins, but all in all, the situation had turned out better than expected. Other than the usual bout of airsickness, Gabriella was shaken but unscathed, though boarding the new flight from Phoenix to Albuquerque definitely ranked among the top ten scariest moments of her life.
She'd had time to come to terms with all that had happened, except for the woman's voice she'd heard in the background on Troy's phone. What on earth was going on? She had managed to calm her ire after his brush-off earlier in the afternoon—he'd been on the way to surgery—but she couldn't fathom why Troy would have a woman at their house while she was gone. Lucille had said that Troy was at home, so it clearly wasn't a random stranger in a public place. She didn't know what to think. She trusted Troy, but he had been acting different lately… Gabriella resolutely squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the questions, the uncertainty. All she needed was a good night's sleep. Things would surely look better in the morning.
...~«ώ»~...
When Troy arrived in Albuquerque on Saturday morning, he drove straight out to Lava Springs, where Gabriella and Taylor were busy setting up for the reunion. He strode through the country club to the large banquet room and found Gabriella standing on a chair, hanging decorations. Smiling broadly, he crept up behind her and grabbed her waist, pulling her down into his arms. She shouted in surprise, flailing her arms to try to catch herself as she fell. When she realized that it was Troy behind her, she forced a smile. Troy dipped her for a lingering kiss while she mumbled a protest. When he returned her to her feet and took a step back to look at her, he gasped at her haggard appearance. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin looked unusually pale. It looked like she hadn't slept in days. He grasped her shoulders with concern.
"Sweetheart, are you okay? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine, Troy," she told him dismissively, trying to push out of his arms. "We have a lot of work to do."
"Hey, what's going on here?" he insisted, refusing to release her. "You didn't answer your phone all day yesterday. I've been worried about you."
"Taylor and I were out all day yesterday getting things together for tonight," she explained. "I told you I'd be busy."
"Gabriella, come on, talk to me," he pleaded. "Something's wrong. Did I do something to upset you?"
She glanced across the room at Chad and Taylor. "Troy, now is not a good time. Please, can we talk about this later? We have so much work to do."
Reluctantly he released her. "Okay, but I'm going to hold you to that. Now what do you need me to do?"
...~«ώ»~...
A couple hours later, Gabriella sank into a chair, exhausted. She'd just hung her last decoration, and she looked around at the large room, checking the work that they had finished. Taylor was on the other side of the room setting up displays. Troy and Chad were in the hallway hanging East High banners. Gabriella had looked forward to this reunion for months, but suddenly, she couldn't wait for it to be over. She let her eyelids droop for a moment of rest before a rustle next to her caused her to look up.
Standing over her, dressed in a pink dressing gown trimmed with feathers, was Sharpay Evans. She looked like she'd stepped out of their high school yearbook, virtually untouched by age. Her hair hung in rich blonde waves, her teeth sparkled, her make-up was perfect… Gabriella looked down at the dingy clothes she'd worn to work in, and ran a hand through her tangled hair.
"Hi, Gabriella," Sharpay chirped. Her voice was high and suspiciously sweet, just like in high school.
"Hi, Sharpay," Gabriella replied, brushing her hand on her jeans before offering it for a handshake. Instead, Sharpay pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Handshakes are for strangers," she explained when she finally released Gabriella. "Hugs are for old friends. Besides, I've learned that nothing makes a fan's day like a hug from their favorite celebrity."
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Gabriella looked around. "What are you doing here so early? The reunion doesn't start for hours."
"I'm getting dressed here so I don't have to worry about ugly wrinkles," Sharpay sniffed. "You may recall that I'm part-owner of this country club."
"Oh, I thought your parents owned it," Gabriella returned, unable to resist the jab.
Sharpay's eyes narrowed. "When my parents retire, I will be taking over the operation. In the meantime, I came in to make sure you guys aren't taping decorations to the wallpaper." She flicked a manicured fingernail across one of the streamers that Gabriella had just hung. "How quaint. The wallpaper is imported from France, you know."
Gabriella bit her tongue against the snippy retort that formed in her mind. "Yes, I know. It's lovely. And no, we haven't taped anything to it. Taylor and I both received copies of the club's rental policy. It's very thorough."
"For good reason," Sharpay sniped. "This club is exclusive. We host classy events, like cotillions, showers, and weddings. The Albuquerque Community Center is more than adequate for the hoedowns and football parties that the average citizens around here are so fond of having."
"The Albuquerque Community Center?" Gabriella pretended to consider that. "I'll tell Taylor to keep that in mind for our next reunion." She turned to walk away from Sharpay, smiling at the scandalized gasp behind her.
"I saw Troy out in the hall," Sharpay said, her voice resuming its annoying sweet tone. "He looks fabulous. Time has been very kind to that man."
Gabriella turned back in time to see another disapproving head-to-toe appraisal from the other woman. "He does look good, and he works hard to maintain his health and fitness." She held up her left hand. "We've been married for almost four years now."
"So I heard," Sharpay replied icily. Gabriella started to walk away again, but Sharpay's next words stopped her cold. "I also heard about your struggles with infertility. It's such a shame—Troy would make a great father."
Gabriella turned slowly, unable to stop the shakiness in her voice. "Who told you that?"
"Troy did, of course," Sharpay answered merrily.
"Troy would never tell you that," Gabriella growled.
Sharpay rolled her eyes dramatically. "Okay, fine, I might have overheard him talking to Chad about it out in the hall. He seemed pretty bummed about it, which I can understand. If there's one person who deserves to have a family, it's Troy Bolton. Don't worry, though, Troy is far too noble to leave you because of that."
Gabriella swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump that was forming in her throat.
Sharpay's eyes suddenly widened, and an evil smile spread across her face. "Ooh, I just had the best idea! I could donate my eggs so that Troy can have the kids he's always wanted." She paused, tapping her finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Of course, we'd have to use a surrogate—I wouldn't want to ruin my figure, after all—but then you could raise the little creatures as your own offspring. Just imagine how beautiful they'd be, with Troy's blue eyes and my naturally blonde hair…"
Sharpay rambled on and on as Gabriella stood in shock. The words began to blur and distort in her ears, and Gabriella shook her head to clear the fog that was engulfing her. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the walls seemed to be caving in around her. Everything was happening in slow motion. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. The blood pounding in her ears drowned out Sharpay's voice. And then, everything went black as Gabriella slipped into blissful oblivion.