Don't Hold Me
Chapter 5:
Authors Note: Thank you for the reviews and the continued support! It's been too long since I've updated, but here is a little something. I wanted something... a little lighter... and this sequence between Addison and Amelia has been playing on my mind. Please review and let me know what you think!
Addison 20 weeks
"Addison, we're going out today, wake up!" Amelia says, in a singsong voice, as she comes further into the bedroom and draws back the curtains. "I cleared this with Arizona and everything, which was like a huge ordeal, so you'd best get up." She gently shakes me awake. The sun is shining through the windows. It feels warm on my skin, yet I am cool all the same. I pull my blanket over me, covering the exposed skin, burrowing deeper under the blankets. Blissfully ignoring her. I guess the only real advantage to the people you live with thinking you're dying is that sometimes they'll humor you and leave you alone if you ignore them long enough. It's warm under here. I am just falling asleep again when her chirpy voice penetrates the fine layer between consciousness and unconsciousness and pulls me back.
"We're not playing this game today Addie, come on." She coaxes, as if I am a small child, and she's reading my mind. "I'm not leaving, Mark had an early surgery today, so it's just you and me until he gets home from work tonight."
"I don't need a caregiver." I grumble. "You should be at work."
"Maybe so, but who doesn't need their sister?" She asks.
"I guess you're right." I agree, removing my toasty blanket and getting up slowly. I sit at the edge of the bed for a moment, waiting for the room to stop spinning. I feel like a beached whale, but I still can't feel the baby moving. I know this is normal for some women, I'm only twenty weeks, but I wish that it wasn't the case for me. At least twenty-five of my social media friends are pregnant and at least ¾ of them were bragging about feeling their babies move before it was even physically possible for them to feel their babies move. I want to know he's OK in there. Sometimes this whole situation seems so unreal. I just want to know all the sickness and the guilt, and the worry is worth it. I try to put that out of my mind, maybe a distraction IS what I need, but I'm not sure I feel up to it right now. "Where do you think we're going? Can't we just stay home?" I ask hopefully.
"Well, we could, but I think you'll like this better." She says, with a hint of mystery. "We're going to go hiking today." She says, smiling big, like this is the best surprise ever.
"How is that even possible?"
"I found the best place. It's beautiful, I know you're going to love it."
"Amelia…."
"Don't worry…" She scolds me gently. "I have everything worked out." She smiles at me. "You trust me, right?"
"You're sure you cleared this with Arizona and Mark first? Mark wouldn't want-" I ask her.
"I did."
"Okay." I agree, starting to feel a little excited at her excitement.
"So, what do you need help with? Hair? Make up? I didn't wear makeup because it's a bit of a hike and I don't when I'm working out, but that's up to you."
"No…" I look at the bruises scattering my arms and legs. I know they're mild compared to the ones that clothing covers. "I'll get dressed and meet you downstairs?" I offer, not wanting her to worry more than she already must be.
"Sure. If you need anything, I'm just a few steps away."
"Alight." I say, and wait until she has left the room, and closed the door to walk to the walk-in closet and select my outfit for today. I choose a long sleeve cream blouse with black stripes, a large cream poncho, and jeans. I choose the most comfortable pair of boots that I can just slip on and get dressed as quickly as I can without harming myself further. Just the effort of getting dressed is exhausting. I pull a brush through my tangled hair, leaving it to naturally curl, and make my way downstairs.
"So, what do you want breakfast?" Amelia asks.
"No."
"You have to take your meds." She says, handing me my handful of vitamins and some all natural something or other that's supposed to help my immune system strengthen. Not the medical approach, not the best approach, but I felt I needed to at the very least explore every noninvasive option available. Just the walk down the stairs has me sweating, and out of breath. I sink down into the kitchen chair and swallow the meds whole without any water. "Food or you'll vomit." She instructs me. "If you vomit in my car, you're going to have a bad time. My car doesn't vent outside air, it just recirculates what's already inside."
"We should just stay home Amelia." I try again. "Maybe when I'm stronger."
"It's only going to get harder, the more the baby grows." She says, handing me a bowl of oatmeal and a boiled egg anyway. I eat it slowly. I'm so tired. I don't want to ruin this for her though. It's killing me that I can't just get up and go like I could before. Maybe if I sleep in the car I can recharge. I just woke up. I shouldn't be this bone tired.
"I'm scared." I admit. "I feel kind of like a prisoner in my own home. In my own body."
"I know, that's why I'm helping you escape. Just for a little while. Are you done? Lets go."
"We're here." Amelia says gently. "Did you have a good rest?"
"Yeah…" I say, pushing my pillow into the backseat. "How long was I asleep?"
"Maybe 45 minutes. Wait here, let me get your chair and my backpack from the trunk then we'll be on our way." I don't say anything, as she hangs the handicap parking permit on the rearview mirror and gets out of the car, she gets the items from the trunk and then comes around to my side of the car opening the door.
"All set?"
"I want to walk a little bit."
"Addison," She says gently. "Arizona and Mark only agreed because I promised them, I wouldn't let you overexert yourself."
"Walking down the stairs of my own house is overexertion. Do you really think I'm going to get far? Besides, walking reduces, blood clots, strokes, early labor due to stress. It's good for baby." I say, trying to sound convincing. She looks reluctant. "Today's a good day Amelia. I'm fine, I feel much better since I rested in the car."
"Ok." She finally agrees. "But I want you to hold onto the wheelchair for support, and I will put the backpack on it to add a little weight, so it doesn't slip out from under you."
"Fine." I agree, picking up her backpack and putting it on the wheel chair without truly thinking it through. "This thing weighs a ton, what's in here?"
"Just the essentials." She says, as if it's nothing. She shuts my door and clicks the key fob to lock the doors. "Portable mini oxygen concentrator, glucose monitor, food, since your sugar was actually low on your gestational diabetes screening yesterday. Blanket, EMS first aid kit, stuff like that."
"You've really thought this through." I observe, as we make our way through the parking lot, and over the bridge to the trails entrance. We're going slowly.
"I had to prove to Arizona and Mark we weren't going to do anything reckless, and that I am actually and adult and prepared in the event of an emergency. They trust me to operate on people's brains without a single hesitation, but they don't trust me to take you for a simple walk. I see where I stand." She says smirking a little, mocking hurt. She is walking right next to me as I push the wheelchair. I guess ready to catch me if I stumble. The bridge ends on an archway of trees where the path begins. The trees are so grand that walking beneath them makes you feel miniscule, like the smallest of ants.
"This is gorgeous." I whisper, stopping and looking up at the light dancing through the trees.
"Just wait." Amelia says with a smile. "Are you doing OK? Do you need to rest we've come about ¼ of mile."
"I'm ok." I say, shrugging.
"Ok, let me know if you start getting tired, or if you start hurting. I'll push you. Where we're going is just up ahead about ¾ of a mile." We walk a while longer, fall into a silence, listening to the steady rhythm of our footsteps. I take notice of the smaller things. The vibrance of the winter flowers against the deep brown mulch of the earth. How the paths are clear, and dry despite the wet, frosty forest grounds of the off trail. I asked Amelia about this, and she explained that the waterfall generates electricity, which in turn produces heat. During one of the more recent updates to the parks the national parks services found a way to fuel that energy into a geothermal system, which heats the trails, and the parking lot, keeping them warm and from icing over in winter time. That's absolutely amazing.
"We need to take a break." Amelia says, catching my attention.
"Alright."
"Are you OK? You went from chatty mcchatterson to very quiet."
"Maybe I'm a little tired." I admit finally. I don't want to acknowledge it. I want to keep going. We have to be almost to the stopping point by now.
"Me too. I haven't actually hiked in a while." She says, but I know she's just trying to make me feel better. She moves the backpack, hanging it on the back of the chair and helps me to sit down. Hiking is her escape. She disappears into the woods at least once a week, the woods ground her, the stillness keeps her sane.
"Why did you bring me here?" I ask.
"Because I'm selfish." She says, but she smiles down at me. "There has to be something more than just you laying around in a hospital bed, or on the couch. When someone is inside all the time, they forget the beauty of the world around them. The darkness surrounds them, and they lose their reason to stay."
"You want me to get the treatments?" I ask her. The roaring of falling water is becoming more audible. I try to focus on that.
"That's what I've always wanted Love." She says, as we round the corner, and the majestic waterfall can finally be seen. She pushes me up to the guardrail, so I can take a good look. The mist in the air from the waterfall covers us, looking like glittery ice crystals in our hair.
"This is wonderous, how have I lived here so long and never knew this place existed?"
"It's something isn't it? A miracle of nature." She looks at me sympathetically. "I will always be in your corner Addison, but I can't fight this thing for you. As much as I want to, it's just too big. Your baby is almost viable…things are going to get a lot harder over the next few months" She puts her hands on the baby, and as if magnetically, forces me to make eye contact. "I need you to find your reasons to stay."
