Cry Another Day

-Elisabeth Carmichael-

She sat down in the chair next to his and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"So, I have this body," her eyes briefly lingered on his face, "And she comes in with no visible signs of sex, her hymen still intact, and her labs come back indicating an increased amount of…uh, level of hormones standard in a pregnancy."

Woody stared at her in almost disbelief, "She was pregnant but hadn't had sex?"

She nodded her head profusely, "Yeah, it just doesn't add up."

"What was the COD?"

"Uh blunt force trauma to the head, hard. She was out cold within seconds. But I just keep thinking this pregnancy has something to do with it. Thing is, she was in and out of hospitals for years because of her sister's leukemia and never had time to do much other than go to school and sleep. Her life was tragic but uneventful until a month ago when an angry ER patient hurled some specimen jars at her, causing them to sever some nerves in her legs, but other than that…"

He stopped her, "Was she inseminated?"

"No, nothing in her medical history points to that."

"Then maybe she did have sex."

She stared at him intently, "No, no, just go on the assumption she was a virgin. It just doesn't add up."

"Okay, so somehow seaman has to enter her body with no physical contact," he ran a hand through his hair.

She was beginning to get uncomfortable in the stuffy room, tugging at her shirt collar and rolling up her sleeves.

A look of realization came over Woody's blue eyes, "I've got it!"

"What?"

"Her nerves were severed…that means the jars must have broken. Is it possible that there was seaman in those jars?"

She looked at him in horror, "Yes, yeah it's possible. Shit, I have to go."

"Jordan wait…" he called to an empty room.

Her shoes pounded against the linoleum floors as fast as she could, face red and hot with beads of perspiration. Struggling to get out her keys, Jordan fumbled with the lock on her apartment door. She rushed inside, collapsing against the door as it closed behind her, head between her legs in a desperate attempt to catch her breath and keep from getting sick.

"Shit," she mumbled softly as a tear attempted to stream down her cheek.

Standing up she said it more violently, "Shit!"

In a furious daze, she walked over to her refrigerator, thrusting it open and snatching up a beer. Grabbing the opener from the counter, she savagely yanked the cap off the beer before slamming closed the refrigerator door. Her heart quieted at the sound of the opener being angrily hurled at the counters, bringing her back into reality.

"Aw shit," she said furiously.

No beer if you're pregnant. No scotch if you're pregnant. No anything if you're damn pregnant. What the hell am I supposed to do with myself?

She tipped the beer into the sink, watching as the thick amber liquid sank into the darkness of the disposal drain. Almost robotically, she pulled all the beers out of the fridge and systematically watched as the liquid was disposed of. When she finished the last beer, she placed it next to the others, lined up along the counter perfectly, like an army of soldiers.

Am I that damn incompetent as a woman that I couldn't tell sooner? Already at twelve weeks and I didn't notice a damn thing. She sat distractedly down on the couch and rubbed a hand on her stomach. How could I not see how fat I am? All the signs pointed to it.

She looked up as her cell phone was busily ringing. Staring blankly at the caller-id, two rings passed before she answered in a mechanical, "Cavanaugh."

She bit her lip, "Woody it's alright. Just some case."

A few moments passed, "No, no I'm not drunk," she couldn't help but add, "Wish I were."

"I'll be fine Woody. Just let me sort out this case, and it'll all be over. You know how this stuff gets to me," her voice betrayed the words, ringing with remorse and the slightest amount of fear.

"Run? What?" her voice cracked as she repeated what he had just said, "No, no, I'm not running." But the shock in her voice carried the distinct tone of someone whose plans had just been revealed.

"Yeah, I'll be over to see you tomorrow. Bye Woody."

She sunk further into the couch as she slammed shut her phone. It wouldn't be right to run, but she didn't want to tell him either. She didn't want him to say things because of extenuating circumstances. Pity, yeah, I suppose that's what he was afraid of when I whispered those things to him. Don't really blame him. Not one bit.