Rewrite The Stars
Chapter 6:
Addison's POV:
"Addison there is no reason to keep me here." Olivia whines. I fight the urge to cover my ears. I know can be just as annoying as she is being right now. I think in a way this is God punishing me for everything I've put her through over the years. I want to be a good friend. I want to help her through this difficult time she's having with the pregnancy and the whole Elliot situation, but I can't help it. I'm not in the mood, and she's giving me a migraine. "The contractions are stopping, and I'm only dilated to a three. Can I please go home now?"
"Only." I say with a wearied sigh. I dig around in my purse, finding the bottle of aspirin and take two, swallowing them without even bothering to find a water source. "You do know that at a four you'd be admitted right?" I am in the works of getting her admitted anyway, she just doesn't know it yet. We need to have that discussion, but I am so exhausted. My phone has been going off nonstop. The interns I'm assigned don't seem to realize being in the hospital does not mean I'm working. When I went to check on Olivia's labs, I had to tell off the resident and the attending obstetrician off for sending them to me when I'm not even on shift tonight. I am normally willing and ready to help, but tonight is just not the night.
She's hooked up to a fetal monitor, magnesium drip and medication to stop the contractions. She looks up at me with her big sad brown eyes, practically begging without words. I am in a charitable enough mood that I don't remind her how she brought this on herself. She watches me, I am holding little Noah on my hip. He is watching the different lights and colors on the machine. He starts to whimper, and I bounce him double checking the ultrasound I took as soon we got to the hospital and the results of her laboratory work. I talk to Noah, telling him in detail exactly what I am looking for, and why. I hate that we had to bring him to the hospital with us, but things could have been a lot worse if we had waited for Lucy to get back. I put them in an isolation room which has a better ventilation system and less risk of being contaminated by the rest of the hospital's germs. We don't need him to catch something and end up in the pediatric intensive care unit.
"Noah?" I ask, and he looks at me. "Can you do Aunt Addison a favor and tell your Mommy she has to have patience?" I ask him, in a tone that is more playful than anything else, trying to lighten the heavy mood in the room. He babbles something at her, and she smiles. "See?" I say, "Even Noah knows you can't go home yet Liv."
"I'm fine, and it's no fair using baby magic against me." She grumbles. She's been in a chronically bad mood since I forced her to come to the hospital, and it doesn't seem to be improving with time. Her phone dings, and she answers, taking a work call, letting them know she cannot respond because she is in the hospital, and hanging up, looking more frustrated than ever.
"The contractions might not be as noticeable, but they're still happening every ten minutes like clockwork. There has only been minimal cervical chance since we started medication, but I'd rather air on the side of caution. You're only twenty-five weeks Olivia."
"I don't need you to remind me of that."
"Are you sure?" I ask her. "You're clearly in denial. This is the third time we're here this month. You keep doing the same thing and expecting different results Olivia."
"I said I'm fine." She says again, more forceful this time. Something on my face must have registered with her though because her voice softens, and she asks "Do you really think it's that bad? Do you really think it's coming today?" I almost tell her it's a baby girl, just so she'll stop calling the baby it, but she doesn't want to know, and I stop myself.
"I just want to be cautious." I remind her, not wanting to stress her out more, managing her stress could mean the difference between delivering the baby tonight or giving it more time inside the womb to grow. "I think it is a very real possibility the baby will come early, if we are unable to manage your stress levels." I don't want to stress her out, but I also do not want to lie to her about this. She needs to know that there are risks involved. I had arranged for a full-sized crib to be brought into the room. I fix Noah a warm bottle and sit down in the rocking chair with him, gently rocking back and forth while reading her medical chart.
"I should call Elliot just in case. He'd want to know." She says, but she looks unsure. Things have been so rocky between the two of them since she told him about the baby, and they've been worse since she was put on desk duties.
"Sure, maybe he can visit after you've had a chance to rest." I say quietly just to pacify her. It doesn't escape me that lately he has been causing her more stress instead of alleviating it. She's come home from work so stress that she's cried herself to sleep on more than one occasion. "In medicine it's usually better to hope for the best and prepare for the worst, that way when you end up somewhere in the middle, you're pleasantly surprised."
"Noah really is so smart." I say, and she nods in agreement. I am laying on the hospital bed with her, talking about something, anything to distract her from her current situation. I am completely selfish. I just wanted her to stop asking to go home, I wanted her to stop crying. I want the medication to have longer to work. Mostly she just wants to be held, and I am willing to indulge her if it means that she will shut up and let me think for a little while. At some point after the steroid shot to help mature the baby's lungs she started crying uncontrollably. She had pressed her face into the pillow to avoid waking Noah, and both her stats, and the baby's stats dropped dramatically. The nurses wanted to sedate her, but I wouldn't let them. I'm still not comfortable with how often she's contracting. If delivery is inevitable sedation could cause problems for a baby this premature. Instead, I climbed up onto the bed with her, stroking her hair and talking to her gently until she was able to calm down, and I was happy with the way the monitors look. We are almost asleep when Elliot comes in.
"Liv what happened? Are you OK? Is the baby, OK?" He demands, in a tone that makes me think they're more of a business transaction than his partner of fourteen years, hospitalized due to the complications of creating an entire human being. I wonder if he talked to Kathy this way when she was pregnant with their four children?
"I'm fine." She says. "We're fine." He doesn't trust her at her word though. He turns to me, white as a ghost. At least that's something. With him having other children he'd hopefully know how serious this is. I have half the mind to tell him to sit down before he passes out. "I think this confirms you have your first troublemaker." Liv adds jokingly. I move to check the monitors again, but she has another contraction, this one stronger, more painful than the previous ones. She grabs my arm, keeping me there, holding it tightly. It's almost as if her body is responding to the stress of him even being in the room. She looks at me apologetically when it passes and lets me go. "I'm fine." She says again. I narrow my eyes at her. "Really Addie, it just caught me off guard."
"The contractions are slowing, and there are no signs of fetal distress." I report, looking at the monitors once she's let me go. She had previously given me permission to discuss anything related to her or the baby in front of Elliot as he is the father.
"That's great news." Elliot says, looking a bit better as he smiles down at her, squeezing her hand. He puts his hand on her stomach by the monitors and starts quietly talking to the baby within. "You're OK. Everything's going to be OK little goldfish. Daddy's here." I look over to Olivia uncomfortably, but she's fine, and so I give them a moment. I check on Noah who is sleeping in the crib. I tuck the blanket he's kicked off back around him and then turn to the 'couple.' I feel guilty. I had waited to tell Olivia about the hospital admittance until Stabler got here. Hoping they'd be able to talk it out together, and the medication would have more of a chance to work before such a stressful topic was introduced.
"Olivia, I need to admit you for hospital bedrest. If everything goes well after a two-week period, I'd like you to do a modified bedrest at home after that." She starts to protest but I continue before she can get any words out. "You need to be in a low stress environment for the remainder of your pregnancy." I remind her. "The baby is having a hard time responding to the level of stress you're currently under."
"Oh, so are you moving out then?" Stabler asks. "If you need help, I'm off work this weekend."
"This has nothing to do with me," I say, trying to keep my tone even, to pretend like he is just another patient's husband. I don't know if I can do this. It's too personal. "This has to do with the mother of your unborn child." I remind him.
"This has everything to do with you. She's been in preterm labor three times since you moved in. You're a detriment to her health." He says, and I take the bait, unable to stop myself.
"The third time after a hard day on the job with you." I correct him. "Are you putting in your two weeks' notice? You need to check yourself first before making accusations."
"I'm right here. Stop talking about me as if I'm not." Olivia demands. "You both love me, I'm honored. Now shut up and stop arguing like toddlers before you wake up the actual toddler and I ban you from this room." At the sound of her raised voice Noah wakes up, crying and looking for her. She looks like she'd like nothing more than to fall into a black hole and disappear. I know she must be exhausted. Stabler and I give each other a 'We didn't do it' look before I walk over to the crib and pick up Noah, talking to him and bounce swaying him until he stops crying. I hand him to Olivia, and she holds up her hands, and the cords from the machines as if she's saying, 'how am I supposed to hold a baby like this?' Luckily, he just wants to cuddle her. He lays his head on her chest and falls back asleep.
"I'm not sorry Olivia." I say, keeping my voice quiet and even, not wanting to wake Noah again. "The two of you need to get your act together, and fast. Whatever's going on between the two of you needs to stop. Sort your shit." They're both quiet, just watching me. I suppose not used to me standing up for myself. This isn't how you talk to a patient, but the word vomit is coming and can't be stopped. "This is the third time you've been in preterm labor, we're able to stop it this time, but the next time you might not be so lucky."
"You can't talk to us like that." Stabler objects.
"Who's going to stop me? You?" I ask, realizing just how brave, how mouthy I've become since I've been away from Derek and back with Olivia. The realization scares me, but I power through. "I can walk out. I can leave. You can't and neither can she." I say, looking to Olivia and Stabler. Oliva gives me a what the fuck look, but I don't back down. "Are you going to arrest me for doing everything in my power to save your baby's life? That's a gross misuse of power and I could have your badge if that's the case."
"Are you threatening a officer?" He asks.
"Oh, it's not a threat. It's a promise. I will walk. I will leave her life and your baby's life in the hands of that nervous OB attending on call tonight and I will still get a good night's sleep." I say, it's a lie, but that doesn't really matter right now. He doesn't know me well enough to know when I'm lying.
"You're bluffing, you love Liv too much. You wouldn't walk." Okay though, that doesn't count. He's just hoping I love her that much. If I were him, I wouldn't be testing the waters with my baby's life right now.
"If you want to file a complaint, go ahead. The thing you need to remember Detective Stabler is I don't need this job to survive. You have four kids and one on the way. What would you do without yours? I don't need a detective, but I guarantee you if her stress levels don't go down, you're going to be needing a neonatologist to care for your micro preemie." His phone is ringing, but he waits until I finish my rant. When he looks down at the phone a look of annoyance and frustration crosses his expression.
"I've got to go." He says, looking at his phone where a text just dinged through. "That son of a bitch violated his parole." He says, and by the look of anger on Olivia's I know it's something big. "I'm sorry Liv. I'll call you later, we need all hands-on deck to bring him in." He gives her a gentle kiss on her forehead and leaving the room. She's holding back tears when he tells her they need all available officers, and they fall hard and fast as the door slams behind Stabler. I imagine she feels like she's letting him down, letting the squad down. I don't know what I'd be able to do if I wasn't able to work. When I was in the hospital, I had them keep me sedated as much as they were willing to. I was going out of my mind with boredom.
"I'm sorry." I rush over to her, but she shakes her head no. "I didn't mean to upset him, Olivia."
"You don't mean to do a lot of things." She snaps.
"Olivia really." Noah had stirred when the door slammed, and sits up, looking at the two of us confusion in his eyes. He rubs his eyes blinks several times and then starts to wail. She gestures for me to take him. They're both crying, and I feel the overwhelming urge to run, to leave them and flee from their misery. Sometimes I think it is a good thing I never had children. It is selfish, and I love Noah, really, but I think I would have been a terrible mother. I don't know how to deal with the constant outpour of emotion. Why am I in this line of work?
"You wake him you take him." She says, frustrated from the long hours that we've been here. I take Noah from her arms, he cries and reaches for her, but she says, 'It's OK baby, go with Aunt Addison.' And doesn't take him back. I wasn't sure about the whole Aunt thing when she brought it up. What if I leave again and it hurts him that I'm around and then suddenly vanish? What if I don't leave and we end up married or something, and then his mother is married to his aunt? I am over thinking this way too much. He pulls my hair bring my attention back onto him, and away from my wandering thoughts. She sinks back on the pillows, looking up at the ceiling in a rather defeated sort of way. I let her rest, and don't say anything more as I rock Noah in the rocking chair. When he has settled, I sit him in the crib, but his bottom lip starts trembling again, and he looks so pathetic that I pick him back up, holding him while I fuss about checking the monitors again, keeping busy until she is ready and speaks again.
"Why did you have to argue with him?" She demands. "You just made things worse." She accuses.
"I didn't mean to make things worse." I say quietly. "But you're worth it, this baby is worth it." She's so conflicted. I know she has decided to keep the baby, but she hasn't yet bought anything. She hasn't really done much of anything related to the pregnancy other than the routine checkups, daily prenatal vitamin, telling the father, and trying to take it easier at work.
"Do you even know what it's going to be like to walk into the squad room on Monday? They already look at me as if I'm damaged goods."
"I don't have to, neither do you, you'll be right here on Monday." I remind her. "And you're not damaged. You're pregnant. This is only temporary."
"You have to let me go. Who'll look after Noah?"
"You have Lucy during the day, and I take care of babies for a living. I'm sure we can manage overnights." I say, trying to be agreeable and accommodating. My stomach rumbles and I realize just how hungry I am. "Mind if I take Noah for a green juice and some food?" I ask her. He's not yet on solid food. She is very insistent that 'food before one is just for fun' and he's growing well on his specialty formula. She gives me an odd look, and I realize she isn't following the bouncing ball and doesn't understand I meant for me.
"He's not even one yet, one serving of green juice has enough sugar in it to put an elephant into a diabetic coma, and it defeats the purpose of insisting I be in an isolation room if you're going to tote him all over the hospital anyway."
"Well, I wasn't planning on sharing with him." I retort. She has been going at me hard about my sugar intake lately when she looked in the fridge and realized that the green juice, I have with my meals has thirty-six grams of sugar per serving. "I don't mind leaving him here, but if he cries it may be hard for you to get to him, you'll need to call a nurse for help." I say, looking at all the tubes attached to her. She doesn't like calling the nurses in, and would rather just suffer, and deal with things on her own terms. She always says that they are so busy and have enough going on caring for the patients who need them that she shouldn't take up their time.
"Can't you just call room service?" She asks, her voice trembling, but her eyes afraid. When did she become so uncertain? I don't remember her being like this. Maybe it's just the pregnancy and all the additional hormones.
"If this were a luxury hotel and not a hospital, maybe." I say. Technically I could call down to the cafeteria and have them bring me a tray of something, but though I would never admit it to her, I need a minute. I feel so overwhelmed right now. My phone rings again, I answer and it's one of the interns again, this time it's nothing serious, asking if they can have tomorrow off for drinking. They're having some problems in their personal life, but don't want to jeopardize their place in the program. They're a hard worker, and I would love nothing more than to be drinking right now so I can sympathize. I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't, but I tell them to call in sick tomorrow and that I'll cover for them.
"So, you completely wreck my life, again, and you're just going to walk away? That's all I get?" She exclaims. I frown at her, not sure exactly where this explosion is coming from. It seems a bit dramatic to say that I wrecked her life. If anything, my life is the train wreck.
"Olivia. I'm not walking away." I say, calmly. I realize that this isn't normal for her, but if she is having this much anxiety over me going downstairs to the cafeteria what's going to happen when I must go to work in a few hours? "Just fifteen minutes. Just long enough to run to the cafeteria and get some food. I'll be right back; do you want anything?" I ask her as I make Noah another bottle just in case, he gets hungry and hand him, and the bottle to her. He fusses, and reaches for me this time, clearly not impressed with being passed from person to person. He's slept, but he's tired too. The hospital has a way of draining people. There is too much going on, it's too overstimulating.
"No, just go." She says.
"Okay." I say. "I'll be right back." I reassure her, though she looks doubtful. I hate that I even threatened to walk. In those few seconds just destroyed what trust was able to be established in the months since I've left Derek. I didn't mean it. Elliot was right. I would never. Yet that is the thing I said, the thing I threatened knowing it would hurt her. I don't know why I said it.
I walk out into the hallway, and I am secretly glad she kept Noah because as soon as I am away from them my legs feel weak, I'm trembling, and I feel like I can't breathe as I am overcome with a mixture of sadness, guilt, and anxiety. I duck into one of the on-call rooms and sit on the bed, resting my head in my hands. Forcing myself to breathe slowly and deliberately. I'm crying, I move my hands over my mouth to quiet the sound. I don't want anyone coming in here, I just need to be alone in the silence. It's not silent though, maybe to everyone else, but not to me. The thoughts in my head are so loud, screaming. I lay on the bed and pull the pillow over my head trying to drown them out. It doesn't work. I cry harder when one of the last arguments we had before I left her comes to mind. Anxiety is a monster. It lurks in the shadows and in the quiet moments when you're sad, and alone it brings back every mistake you've ever made in your entire life, with an extra special helping of why everything that has ever gone wrong is your fault.
I remember as clear as anything. She had come to visit me for lunch, but I was late due to emergency surgery. It had started another argument, so petty looking aback on it.
'We need to just stop making plans.'
'Emergencies happen Olivia, in both of our jobs. We can still try.'
'I don't want to try anymore.' The night Derek had showed up at our doorstep. I let him in, it was a mistake, but I let him in. She was so furious with me that when I told her we were fine she left. He wanted me to go with him, and when I refused, he blacked my eye and choked me so hard he left bruises on my neck that night. I was gullible enough back then to think he really did just want to talk things through. I didn't know what the next few days would have in store for me.
'What are we going to fight about next?' She asked.
'You quit! You quit on me! You walked out and you left me alone!' I had accused, the bruises were able to be covered with makeup, but she had seen them the night before when she came home.
'I'm so sorry.' She had said, she was crying so hard she had to bend over and lean against the wall to support herself. I was so angry with her that I couldn't see straight. My heart pounding. She wanted to prove a point. She knew that he wasn't capable of just talking.
'That's not enough anymore.'
I was so cold to her, so cruel, yet when I needed her, she accepted me back just as she always does. Guilt fills me. Was Stabler right? Is this my fault? Is our history too much for her to deal with? Why is it so easy to fall back into this mindset that Derek instilled in me? I don't know. If it was my fault, she would have been having problems this entire time, not just the last month. Right? My medical degree wants to say yes, but my heart says no. I should have done more to prevent this. I lose track of time, I stay in the on-call room until the tears have stopped, and I wash my face. I head down to the cafeteria, getting myself a salad and a bag of chips for balance, a green juice, and a large cup of ice. I get Olivia a large cup of unsweetened tea. They have her favorite oatmeal raisin chocolate chip at the register, and I grab her a couple, and then stop by the gift shop and pick up Noah a couple of toys and books to keep him entertained. I know I've been longer than I said I was going to be, but I didn't want her to see me upset. Not right now. I feel like I have to be strong for her. I must be the strong one now. I'm terrible at this, but I have to try.
"You've been two HOURS." Olivia says when I open the door to her room, juggling all the packages, and food, trying to keep everything from tumbling out of my arms and spilling, while still not allowing the door to slam behind me.
"I'm sorry. You know how it is. I was called down into the emergency room for a consult and had to step in and assist with the delivery. There wasn't time to transfer her to L&D." I invent. The lie slides off my tongue so easily, yet I hate myself for it. It's not like that has never happened before, it's more common than you'd think. It just didn't happen today. Somehow saying an emergency work thing came up sounds better in my head then telling her 'I had a panic attack because I cannot cope with my life.' I don't want her worried about me right now, and she will be. "I got you some unsweet tea, and your favorite cookies." I say, sitting them at her bedside table. Noah is standing in the crib, holding on to the rails and bouncing. I hand him the toy dog I got him. It's from a popular children's television show called 'Blue's Clues'. I push the button on his paw, and it plays one of the popular songs from the television show. One of those new trendy toys I certainly didn't have growing up. The box said, 'Fifteen new and exciting ways to learn and play!' in bold letters on the front and ABC's and 123's with 'Ten songs your child knows and loves from the Nick Jr. hit television series Blue's Clues.' He shrieks with excitement and takes the toy from me, flopping down on his bum to a siting position in the crib and trying to figure out how to make the toy make noise again. I am certain he's never actually seen the television show, but I've noticed several other toys and books with this character around the house. It seems to be quite the favorite.
"I hate you; you could have been dead." She says, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face flushed.
"Why would I have been dead? I never even left the hospital."
"Everytime, you leave I see you back with him. I see you laying on the floor, not breathing." She says, and I know she is thinking on the night I lost Zachary.
"I'm not breathing now Olivia." I say, though there is clearly a difference in not breathing because you've been beaten to the brink of death and feeling like you're being smothered. "You're suffocating me. I can't do this anymore. I can't stop living my life because you don't trust me." I am trying to keep my tone as calm and as even as I can. Very aware that Noah is awake, and everytime she raises her voice he looks over at her. I don't want him to be afraid.
"Am I really that bad?" She asks. "So bad that you want to leave, that you'd prefer him?" I stop myself from saying 'only when you're pregnant.' Because that would have certainly set her off. I'm just not used to this new version of her. I'm getting there, I'm adjusting, but it will take time.
"You're being really self-destructive right now." I tell her. "You put yourself into preterm labor having a temper tantrum, are you really that much better than him?" I ask her.
"I don't hurt you or abuse you." She says. "I didn't kill my unborn child, so yes, I do consider myself better than him."
"Let me give you something to help you sleep."
"You said it wasn't safe."
"The contractions have stopped, something mild would be fine."
"You just want me drugged so you don't have to deal with me."
"And you just want to argue, endlessly for no good reason." I'm so tired of the constant back and forth that has been today. Was it only hours earlier that we were wrapped in each other's arms? It feels like an eternity ago. Will this day ever end? So much for keeping it cool for Noah. He doesn't cry though, just frowns up at me, silently judging in baby.
"Yes, they stopped. No need for hospital bedrest." She says, looking up at me hopeful. "I really need to use the bathroom." She says. "Can you please unhook me?" I nod, and unattached the fetal monitors, putting a call into the nurse's station that I've done it, so they don't worry and come in here. She leans heavily against me, getting her footing, and then walks to the bathroom, pulling the IV pole behind her. "See?" She says before closing the door. "I'm fine, no need."
"No need if you don't mind a fourth emergency trip to L&D this month." I mumble under my breath.
"Hey I heard that!" She exclaims, the toilet flushes and I hear her washing her hands. "There won't be. I swear… Addison please." She says, coming back out with the IV monitor in tow. I don't say anything, and she adds. "Can I walk a little? Please? I have been laying down for hours my back is killing me."
"Sure." I agree. "I still want you walking around, and maybe even some light exercise and stretching like yoga. It will reduce the risk of blood clots and reduce your stress. If you start cramping or feel anymore contractions I want you back on the bed, and I still want to monitor baby for at least fifteen minutes of each hour."
"For the entire two weeks?" She asks, horrified at the amount of time she'll be spending in bed and on the monitors.
"For the next couple of days. We can gradually increase the time in between monitoring as long as there are no further issues."
"I need to clean the bedroom." She says in a small voice. She is walking back and forth across the room within the limitations of the IV wires. I guess she got tired of lugging the machine behind her.
"For now, you need to rest. I can take care of the bedroom." I cringe thinking of the mess I am faced with when I get home. I could just hire someone to clean the room and hire someone else to replace the furniture that was broken, but that takes more time than I am willing to invest. I don't know how long I'm going to be stuck at the hospital between her, and my work responsibilities. I'm uncomfortable with the idea of having strange people come and deliver the furniture when Lucy is alone with the baby. What if they're creeps? She's responsible, but she's young.
"I'll sign ou you can't force me to stay here." She says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I look at her sympathetically.
"Why are you so hellbent on leaving?" I ask her. "I mean if that's what you really want you can go, but just realize in addition to risking your life and your baby's life you're jeopardizing whatever this is we have as well."
"You're threatening me now?" Olivia asks.
"No, I'm not." I say, considering my words carefully. "But I'm really nothing more than a romantic entanglement to you. You don't trust me enough to be anything more. You don't trust me enough to know what's needed to keep you and your unborn baby safe. You don't trust me to look after Noah unless you're right there, you don't trust me to leave the apartment, or stay in the apartment on my own. You don't even trust me to drive myself to work. We can't move on like this."
"You hate driving."
"That's not the point Olivia and you know it."
"I'm fine." She says, so dismissively. With these words the rage that's been building boils over the top and I see red. I don't understand how she could be so passive about the situation she's in. I grab my cell phone and log into the hospital's nursery with my hospital ID. I zoom in on a tiny baby I delivered just yesterday. He's so little, small enough that I could hold him in one hand. His skin is still translucent, and you can see his tiny veins and blood running through. His mother didn't have a chance to stop her labor. She went from no symptoms to water breaking to baby being born in the ambulance before she could even get to the hospital. He can't breathe on his own and is hooked up to a ventilator. He cannot eat and is on a feeding tube. He has IV placed for all the medications he needs to keep him stable, and many monitors. There are more monitors and tubing than there is baby at this point.
"This is what happens to babies who are born at twenty-five weeks." I tell her, she looks away, but I move the phone, forcing her to look. I remind her of the survival rates for babies born this early. It is better than it used to be, but we still have a long way to go. I don't give her any identifying information, just show her the baby. No different than if she had met me up at the NICU and seen him. She was there when my Zachary was born at only twenty weeks. She held him when I couldn't. I am appalled at the idea that she would think five weeks is so much of a difference just because you can artificially keep a baby alive at twenty-five weeks until they can keep themselves alive. I know she is not that stupid. I know she is not intentionally risking the pregnancy. She would never do that. It feels like it sometimes though, on the days when she is so selfish. So ungrateful. On the days when she takes what she has for granted. It's days like today that I hate her. I love her so much, but I hate her. I am so jealous of her that I hate myself. I would give anything to be a mother.
"You have a choice, Olivia. Your baby doesn't have to end up in th U." I say gently. "It's only a few more weeks. It seems hard, even impossible right now, but you're going to get through this."
"That's rich of you to say, you're not risking anything." I look at my watch, I'm supposed to be working today. It's five AM and I am late for the intern rounds this morning. I send a quick text updating them that we will be rounding late and instructing them to finish up their pre rounds if they haven't yet.
"Well right now I'm risking my job. I'm late for rounds." I say. "I'm on the schedule for this morning. I need to shower and change into scrubs." I inform her. "We'll be back in a little while when the interns round on you." I say, surprised that someone hasn't already been in to pre round.
"I wasn't prepared for this." Olivia admits.
"Prepared for what?" I ask her.
"For how…. Freaking… angry I feel… all … the … time."
"It's the hormones, things will level out when the baby is born." I inform her, trying not to sound too excited for that, for the time when she is back to normal. I know I could just leave. I should just leave, but it's weird. We're comfortable together, even when we're miserable.
"I feel like I am going to explode." She says, and several things happen at once. She pushes the tray away from the bed harder than she intended to while using it as support to stand so she can walk again. The tray collides with me before I realize what's happening and causes me to lose my balance and fall hard. The drink from the tray lands on me, soaking my clothing and my wonderful group of interns choose that exact moment to come in for their prerounds.
I sit there on the ground, frozen for a moment trying to wrap my head around what just happened. The rational part of me knows it was an accident, she didn't make me fall with any malintent, but after years of Derek's abuse it triggers me all the same. I am filled with such rage and she's not my Olivia anymore. My Olivia would never hurt me. This is an imposter, someone who's no better than Derek. It suddenly occurs to me how good it would feel to slap her hard across the face, to hurt her like I'm hurting.
When I fell, she had gotten up and quickly sank down on the floor beside me, apologizing over and over. I realize I'm crying, and try so hard to stop, very aware that the interns are watching us, but I can't.
"Don't touch me." I say, she had leaned in to I don't know what, hug me, or maybe help me up. I stand up shakily, moving away from her. "I'm fine."
"Addison please don't go. I'm sorry!" She says again. "It was an accident." She respects my wishes though and doesn't touch me.
"I'm late for work. Olivia, I have to go." I repeat forcing myself to stay calm, as I try to work through my anger with her. I turn to the group of interns. "One of you help her get cleaned up, and hooked back up to the monitors, also call housekeeping to clean this mess up. Finish your pre rounds and I will meet you on the floor to round in forty-five minutes. Don't even think about being late or unprepared, you already got additional time this morning." I lock eyes with Olivia, she's crying. I want to kick all the interns out. I want to go to her, but I just can't. I want to say more to her, but I don't. I wanted to hurt her. Suddenly Derek's reasoning for hurting me made sense. I must go. I don't want to hurt her, and If I stay, I'm so afraid I will end up hurting her. I'm becoming the monster that I always hated in Derek. He created this hatred in me and I don't know how to set it free.