Chapter 8
She was barely holding it together.
Two weeks and Ellie was ready to fall apart. She made it to work, made it through each day, then went home and laid in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do.
Tell Chris. That much was obvious. She had to tell Chris. He deserved to know.
Ellie laid flat on her back, the same water stain on the ceiling over her bed giving her no hint as to how she was supposed to tell Chris. Tell him she was pregnant. There was no way she could just blurt it out with Buck and Vin and Nathan…everyone right there in the barracks.
And it wasn't something she could tell him in an email. Or a letter.
Ellie pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. She had told Buck she had to work late doing inventory at the dental clinic last week and avoided another video call with him and Chris. But she was supposed to talk to them tonight. And there was no way she could avoid Buck for another week. He would really start to worry then.
"Unnggh!" Ellie groaned throwing one of her pillows across the room. It landed with a less than satisfying thump on the carpet.
Maybe she would go out for a little while before the late night call. Get her head on straight. Or at least straighter. Pull herself together.
She blew out a breath and pushed up to sitting. She swallowed hard and wiped at her cheeks. She wasn't a crier. Not normally. She needed to pull it together. Even if she managed to figure out how to tell Chris, she would still be on her own. He and Buck weren't coming home any time soon. They would be gone at least five more months, more if their deployment got extended.
She needed to get out of her apartment. She grabbed a heavy knit cardigan and shrugged it on. She tried not to think anymore about Chris or the pregnancy or wondering what in the world she was doing.
She got her keys and welcomed the cold fall air in her face when she left her apartment.
In her car, she turned in the opposite direction of the bar that Buck and the others favored. It would be too much to be there without them tonight. She steered her car towards a less familiar neighborhood. Not a rough neighborhood, but still a long ways from being gentrified. She slowed when she saw the red brick building. She looked for a parking spot.
Ezra had invited her to come by his bar sometime when she had seen him the week before.
Ellie found a parking space and eased her car into it.
The bar was busy for a weeknight. Ellie eased past the tables and found an empty spot at the bar. She slid onto the leather topped stool.
The people around her and noise was like a layer of security, preventing her from being alone with her thoughts.
"What can I get you?"
The southern accent was familiar and Ellie looked up to see recognition flash on Ezra's face.
"I thought it was time I come by and see your bar," Ellie said. "This is great, Ezra," she said sincerely. She looked at the Tiffany style lampshades hanging over several tables.
He looked pleased by the compliment. "There are still some improvements I have planned," he said. The previous owners were using this as a college sports bar," he said, sounding like he was talking about a septic tank cleaning company.
Ellie felt a grin pull at her lips. "There's no accounting for taste," she said.
"Definitely not," Ezra agreed. "What are you drinking tonight?" he asked. "It's on the house. I have a proprietary blend of juices that makes the Tequila Sunrise here the best you'll ever have."
Ellie's smile grew strained and she fought to keep it in place. "Just a…Sprite," she said. "With your proprietary blend."
Ezra's expression changed just enough as he studied her to make Ellie aware she hadn't held her smile seamlessly enough.
"Coming right up," he said.
Ellie heaved a sigh as Ezra moved farther down the bar to mix her drink. The noise swirled around her. She looked down at the highly polished bar top.
"Can I get you anything else?" Ezra asked, sliding a glass across to her, ice cubes clinking in it.
Ellie wrapped her fingers around the glass. It was chilled, but no colder than her icy fingers. She didn't think her hands had been warm since she held the pregnancy test in her fingers.
"Miss Ellie?" Ezra asked.
Ellie looked up, her hands tightening on the glass in direct contrast to the smiled she dredged up for Ezra.
"Can I get you anything else?" Ezra asked again. The way he said it made Ellie think he meant something besides a drink. The look of concern on his face hinted at a listening ear being at the top of his list.
"No, I'm good. This is good," she said, lifting the drink. She took a sip. "Mmm. Really good," she said honestly.
"You let me know if I can get you something," Ezra said.
"I will," Ellie said.
Ezra held her gaze. When Ellie didn't say anything more, he gave a slight nod and moved toward a customer waving him over.
Ellie took another drink of the alcohol free mixed drink. It was hard to get it past the lump in her throat.
#
Hannah took a long breath. As soon as she took the phone from the nurse and heard the familiar voice, she forgot to breathe. But it wasn't painful. It wasn't anything. She didn't feel anything.
"Hannah." The deep voice wasn't warm like Josiah's. It was proper. Stern. Disappointed.
Hannah opened her mouth, but she couldn't get any sound out.
"Hello?" came the voice again. "Hannah. Please answer me. Did I waste my time by calling?"
"N—no," Hannah choked out. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm here."
"Well I should certainly hope you're there," Gregor Sanchez said dryly. "For what your little mental health vacation is costing me, you had better be there."
Hannah wished she could curl into herself. Her lips trembled. Numb was better than when the hurt started.
"I appreciate it," she said. "You—you arranging for me to come here was nice. Thank you." She wanted to ask when he would allow her to discharge…to come home, but didn't want to hear his annoyance when she asked.
"It's fortunate you went away to college last year," Gregor said. "It's made explaining your absence much simpler."
"Oh. Right," Hannah whispered. "That's…good."
"I talked to the director there yesterday."
Hannah felt a surge of hope in her chest. He wanted her home. He was talking to the medical director about a discharge for her.
"He said you've been compliant with your medication. That was more than I had hoped to hear after how unpleasant you had been at home."
Hannah pressed her lips together so hard they hurt. Anything to hold back the pain that threatened to overwhelm her.
"I didn't mean to make things so bad at home," she said, her voice shaking. She hadn't. She really hadn't meant to spend days in bed, missing church and forcing her dad to have to make excuses for her absences. She hadn't meant to use a razor on her wrists so many times that she hadn't been able to hide it anymore. She didn't want Josiah to have to be called and told what she had done when she ended up in the hospital after she had given up and cut deeper, intending it to be the last cuts she would ever have to make.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"I appreciate the apology," Gregor said, his tone businesslike. "I wish an apology could change things."
"I know." Hannah felt her shoulders slump. She let them keep falling forward, curling herself around the pain in her chest. How many times had she heard her father preach on the emptiness of apologies.
"I need to be going," her father said. "Do you need anything?"
Hannah shook her head before she caught herself and found her voice. "No, thank you."
"Alright then. Continue to do as they tell you there," he said. "I'll call again in a couple weeks."
The phone clicked off to silence.
Hannah stood there, holding the phone. She imagined her father telling her he was glad to hear she was doing better. Telling her he couldn't wait for her to come home and feel better. Saying he loved her.
"Hannah?"
Hannah startled. One of the nurses looked at her with a gentle smile. "Are you done with the phone?"
Hannah looked at the cordless phone still in her hand.
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry." She handed the phone over to the woman. She fought against the wistful longing. She blinked against tears. Keeping her head down, she moved down the hallway to her room.
She slipped inside and closed the door.
The pain in her chest built. She went to the small desk in one corner of the room. She had been here long enough, made enough progress, she was allowed a small mirror now. Had proven she wouldn't break it and risk her safety.
Biting down on her lip hard, she picked up the handheld mirror and wrapped a blanket around it. Taking a deep breath, she struck it hard against the tile floor.
She unwrapped the blanket. Glass shard stuck to the fabric. She carefully picked out one of the larger pieces.
She pushed up her sleeve, gripping the smooth sides of the glass between sure fingers. The sharp pain in her chest built until it threatened to overtake her. She needed to feel something else. Anything else.
She pressed the shard against her wrist, but didn't break the skin.
She couldn't do this. But there was no other way to release the pain. Stop the pain.
The digital clock on her nightstand beeped an alarm.
Hannah looked at the clock. Her fingers dropped away from her arm. She let the shard fall back into the blanket with numb fingers.
Josiah would be calling soon. Their weekly video call he had started since his first visit to see her.
On their last call he had asked her to let him know if she had any thoughts of hurting herself. He hadn't pressured, but Hannah had willingly gave him the promise that she would talk to him instead of self harming. Her therapist had praised her for opening up to someone and finally finding a safe person she could make that promise to.
There was a knock on the door. "Hannah? Your brother's calling."
Hannah wrapped the blanket around her broken mirror. She deposited it all into her trash can and wiped her palms against her jeans. She wouldn't do anything to hurt herself. She would talk to Josiah and she would be ok.
#
Ezra kept busy. He gave every patron the illusion of his full attention, but his focus kept straying to his neighbor, seated at the bar, still nursing the beverage he had mixed for her an hour earlier.
The crowd was thinning out early since it was a weeknight. Ezra thanked a couple of women for the tip they handed him, feigning ignorance to the overtures and not subtle proposals they made.
He waited until they were out of the door and made his way back to Ellie, the last customer still seated at the bar.
She was staring down into her drink like it may hold answers to life's questions.
"If you want answers from the beverage, I'll have to add something a hundred proof to your glass," Ezra said.
Ellie's shoulders lifted and dropped in a sigh. "Life's not always sunshine and tulips," she said.
It took Ezra a moment to figure out what she meant. "Sunshine and roses," he corrected her.
"What?" Ellie asked, her brow wrinkling.
"Life's not always sunshine and roses," he said, citing the cliché.
Ellie's brow creased. "You like roses?"
"No," Ezra said. "That's the saying."
"What saying?" Ellie asked, her frown growing.
"Life's not always sunshine and tulips," he said, repeating what she had said.
"That's what I said."
"I…never mind," Ezra said, not sure what they were talking about anymore.
"I should get going," she said.
Ezra took the nearly empty glass she slid back over to him, watching as she slid down from the stool.
"Thanks for the drink, Ezra," she said.
"Anytime," he said, meaning it. "Ellie?" he called after her.
She stopped, turning back to him.
"Are you sure nothing's wrong?" he asked.
A plethora of emotions crossed her face, fear, indecision, shame, hope, worry, guilt.
"I'll figure it out." She gave him a smile that fell short of the sunny grins she usually gave him when their paths crossed.
Ezra didn't say anything more and watched her go, hands tucked into pockets of the oversized sweater she had wrapped around her.
#