"I'll bet you're looking forward to being a big brother, aren't you?" The young nurse crossed the room, having finished sorting patient files into their appropriate drawers.
"Uh-huh but only if it's a boy. I already got a big sister," Brian looked up from the journal he was making out to be completely comprehending.
"Well, don't think you're going to have much of a say in that one at all," The young woman chuckled, idly tidying the otherwise empty waiting room.
"Why not? Who gets to decide?" Brian frowned, worried that his mother may prefer a girl.
"No-one. Well God, I suppose," The brunette took a seat by the small boy, having finished her work for the afternoon, and feeling sorry for the obviously bored child.
"Then, do ya think if I pray real hard, and ask for a baby brother, I'll get one?" Brian's hopes were renewed, closing the booklet in his hands.
"Perhaps. It's either going to be one or the other, so you've a good chance," she smiled, looking around the office for something more interesting to amuse the young boy.
"Here. I don't know if you like drawing or anything?" She placed several blank pieces of writing paper down on the small table to Brian's right, and handed him a pencil.
"It's all right, ain't real good at it or nothin'," Brian busied himself beginning to sketch the first thing that came to mind.
"You've been very patient, waiting for your mother like this. Most boys your age wouldn't be able to be so well behaved," The nurse smiled, returning to glance quickly over the appointment schedule before her.
"I'm kinda used to it. Have to wait while Ma sees patients sometimes, but then can usually go over the store, see Mr. Bray," Brian continued moving the fine pencil across the blank stationery.
"Oh? What sort of patients?" She frowned, realizing that the physician had no more appointments for that afternoon.
"Everyone. Just who ever needs a doctor," Brian lowered his voice, beginning to detail his drawing more delicately.
"You mother's a doctor?" The young woman's face revealed her obvious shock, as she looked in disbelief between the small child, and the door in which the aforementioned woman had just passed through.
"Yeah, which is great 'cept when she's the one needin' a doctor. Then, there's nobody." Brian put the finishing touches to his quick work of art, looking up as he placed the pencil onto the table gently.
"You're not from around here are you?" The nurse saw the saddened expression cross the boy's face, and once again rose from her chair, crossing the room to take a seat by his side.
"Uh-uh, from Colorado and we got to come all this way on account of Ma havin' a baby," Brian looked back across from his finished drawing, almost forcing himself into what he considered a necessary smile.
"That's a long way. Just the two of you?" She knew she was prying, however the young boy appeared to be troubled by something, and surely polite conversation would do no harm.
"Yeah, but am glad we finally got here. Maybe now Ma won't be so angry," Brian began idly running the pencil over a fresh sheet of paper, his arm movement becoming more hasty and careless.
"Surely she isn't angry at you, is she?" The nurse paused, realizing she didn't even know the child's name. "I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Lucy. What's your name?" She saw the child's right hand slow, as he turned back around from his work.
"Brian. I like that name, Lucy. Is it all right me calling you that?" He frowned, never normally being granted permission to call adults by their Christian names.
"Of course, Brian. I'm not that much older than you anyway, you're eleven, twelve?" Lucy smiled, deliberately being generous in her guesses.
"Just ten, Miss. Lucy." He returned his attention to his drawing, beginning to take more care with the sketch.
"May I see the other drawing?" The nurse questioned. Her voice was sincere and patient.
"Guess so," Brian shrugged, slowly passing her the original drawing.
"Is this you? And your mother?" Lucy looked down at the simplistic sketch before her. She could make out two faces, and what appeared to be a train.
"Yeah, that's on the train comin' here. I dunno why I drew that," Brian turned his attention back to his current work, putting the finishing touches on the drawing.
"You look happy, but your mother doesn't. She looks sad, Brian," Lucy observed, careful to keep her voice questioning and free from accusation.
"I know I was lookin' forward to the trip but Ma's been sad the whole time. Either really sad or really angry," Brian looked over his second drawing for several moments, his gaze alternating between the off-white paper and the nurse to his left.
"Well, I shouldn't worry too much, Brian. Having a baby is sometimes a very confusing thing for a woman. Because it changes your body. Lots of women say they feel sad, and don't know why, but maybe the Doctor will be able to help your mother?" Lucy encouraged, as she was handed the second drawing.
"Maybe. I sure hope so, coz I miss Ma being the way she was before. She'd do all these things people didn't like. Like organize meetin's, and tell people they were doin' things wrong, and try and change things," Brian shook his head, disregarding the reminiscence.
"She'll do all those things again, I'm sure honey. Now, what's this?" Lucy raised her right eyebrow, letting her mouth fall into a broad smile, as she attempted to steer the conversation in a more positive direction.
"This real pretty fountain in the hotel where we're stayin'," he trailed off, discussing the events of the previous week with his newly acquainted 'friend', talking her through the excitement of his train trip, as well as some of his more recent memories.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Ah, twenty-fifth of January," Dr Storer looked up with a sincere smile, tapping the pencil lightly against the cardboard file.
"I'm sorry?" Michaela finished smoothing out her skirt, having pulled herself back up into a sitting position on the edge of the table.
"Well, from the information you've provided me with, along with the examination I've just conducted, you should expect to be holding that little one around the end of January, give or take a," The bearded physician looked up, hearing the woman's voice.
"No, wait," Michaela slipped down from the edge of the table awkwardly, her hands whitening as she struggled to find the words to even begin to plead her case.
"Is there something wrong? You stated that you believed yourself," Horatio blinked in confusion, placing the neatly completed chart on the desk beside him.
"It's not that. I have no doubt as to the accuracy of your calculations, Doctor. That isn't what I was referring to," Michaela crossed the room, arriving behind the polished leather chair. Dropping her clasped hands in front of her to grip the back of the chair, she looked back towards the physician, her hesitant movement and nervous stance conveying her anxiety.
"I'm sorry?" He frowned, noticing the paleness of the woman's knuckles.
"This isn't, I, I haven't been entirely honest with you, on several accounts. I didn't expect you to be, well, from your letter, I didn't envisage you being so accommodating," Michaela paused as she struggled to plan the future direction of her request.
"Letter, I don't remember any?" Again, the physician was slightly surprised by the speed of the woman's retort.
"I wrote to you. I'd imagine you'd not remember, perhaps that is for the best. However, I thought that my coming to see you in person might prove more persuasive. At the time I wrote to you, I thought there might be measures I myself could take," Michaela stumbled on her final words, seeing the Doctor pace around quickly to the back of his desk, opening the top drawer slightly violently.
"You mean this, Madam?" Michaela felt a cold shiver move down her spine as he tossed the open envelope onto the polished oak surface between them.
She merely nodded in confirmation, watching the physician's facial expression and demeanor shift drastically in a fraction of a moment.
"I see. I knew something was amiss. No mother remains so obviously unattached to her child, as you have throughout your presence here this afternoon. Not to mention the use of a false name," The tone of his voice darkened with each word, Michaela drawing a breath to fuel herself for a desperate reply.
"Please, if you'll just allow me to," Michaela's eyes widened as her mouth closed firmly, hearing the fury in the man's response.
"I will not allow another moment of such hypocrisy!" Horatio strode around brusquely to Michaela's side, both pausing as they studied the equal, unwavering determination in the other's eyes.
"I know you must think me heartless, but in my letter I didn't," Michaela pulled her arms tightly to her sides, feeling the air rush past her right ear as the man opposite her again launched into his defensive rant.
"Heartless, is an understatement, and I will not stand here, and attempt intellectual conversation with an ignorant harlot, who has neither comprehension, nor respect for the very essence of life which." He saw Michaela's face redden, as she lifted her gaze, her plea emotionally weighted, if not strengthen by pitch or volume.
"Stop it! You don't know me, you know nothing about me. So how can you presume to speak to me in," Michaela alternated her gaze from the physician's shoulder, not able to look him in the eye; to his medical degree on the wall behind him.
"There is nothing more I need to know about any woman, who would contemplate the senseless destruction of her own child." He saw her expression melt slowly from anger and shock, into emptiness.
Michaela looked up sharply, her tear-filled eyes locked with the physician's immediately. Perhaps he was right. Having not received an opposing reply, the older man realized the distraught woman before him was faced perhaps for the first time, with her own culpability.
"Please, I, I would never want for that but, I didn't, control was taken out of my hands," Michaela returned her focus to the framed parchment, as she awaited what she expected would be another cold reply.
The physician held back from his initial skeptical response of disbelief, observing the woman before him. Taking in her slightly disheveled and ragged appearance, Horatio could still sense the nobility of her upbringing through her refined speech and deliberate vocabulary. He brought his right hand to his beard for several moments, deciding now was not the occasion for polite tact, nor embellished courtesy.
"Are you saying, you were violated?" He chose his words precisely, so as to gauge from her reaction, the level of truth.
"Yes," Michaela could barely hear her own reply, her eyes pulling away from the physician's qualifications reluctantly. She could sense the disgrace in the tingling which ran along her hands and arms. As their eyes locked together, Michaela felt her breath catch in her throat; aware that her very presence before him was an admission of compliance.
"Then I apologize for my earlier harshness. You must understand, this is not an area in which I feel dispassionate about. I have seen too many women calling for such destruction purely because they do not wish for another mouth to feed." He saw the hesitant optimism appear behind her large, soulless eyes.
"You will help me?" Michaela kept her voice timid, not wishing to appear overly pleased by his gentle manner.
"Not in the way you, wish. What, perhaps, you fail to understand, is that human life, at any stage of development, is still that; life. And it is not our right to neither judge nor tamper with, that which has been predetermined. I know many women do not consider the child in the womb a living being until its movement can be detected, and I would not blame you for falling for such hearsay. However, I assure you, your child is alive, a heartbeat was detected and if that is not evidence of life, then," Horatio watched his patient's face drop, sensing her dissatisfaction with his answer.
Michaela had struggled to remain silent throughout the patronizing lecture; however, could no longer contain her frustration; he considered her merely uninformed regarding her condition.
"Please don't patronize me. Do not regard me as some uneducated housewife. It is not naivety that brings me here, is it desperation. I have tried to handle this situation myself; unsuccessfully. There is nobody else who can help me. You are my last chance," Michaela waited for the older man to digest her words, his confusion masking as consideration.
"If you are as aware of the distinction of life, as you so claim, then why do you not appreciate the immorality of your desires?" Dr Storer frowned, as he began to piece together the woman's sophisticated language, with her bold request.
"Because forcing my family to live with the consequences of this pregnancy is a far greater injustice. I can live with my actions, with knowing I've broken my vows, but I cannot live with the shame it would inflict upon my family; upon myself," Michaela found her lower lip with her teeth, looking away so as to hide the tears which had collected in her eyes. She studied the finely detailed rug which covered the dark wooden floorboards, feeling as though a response would never come.
"Surely, if your family are aware of the direness of the situation, there are places you could go until this child is born. As for breaking your vows, I think you are being too harsh on yourself. Nobody from any decent background would attach any blame to you. Surely, your husband, you yourself realize that the biology of conception is independent of consent?" He lowered his voice, seeing the detrimental effect his words were inflicting upon Michaela.
"I didn't mean that, I," Michaela shrugged, confused by the emotional shift in the man's tone and posture. Having told him the truth had certainly at least appeared to instill a newfound compassion and sensitivity to his responses.
"I'm sorry, I know that for many women, the guilt of such dishonor causes them to feel they have betrayed their husbands, however, those of any character are able to," The physician found himself once again cut-off by the sharp, forceful reply of the woman who stood opposite him.
"I'm not married," Michaela shook her head wearily, feeling as though she was fighting an uphill battle, however knowing this was her final resort.
"Again, I apologize for assuming but I thought you said betrayal of vows. Forgive me, but," Horatio leaned carefully back against the large desk behind him, further intrigued by the situation unfolding before him.
"I meant, my vow to God, Doctor. The preservation of life; Primum non nocere," Michaela saw his eyes shimmer in immediate comprehension.
The final piece to the puzzle before him had just been placed.
"You, you're a Physician?" Horatio turned sharply, reaching for the envelope on the desk so as to check her identity.
"Perhaps now, you might understand why this is all the more difficult," Michaela drew a breath, however not managing to prevent the single tear which trailed down from her right eye.
"Quinn, Quinn. Not, dear God," Horatio tapped the envelope against his chin several times, before looking back at the petite woman less than a yard away from him. His voice lowered; his reaction contained in a hushed disbelief; "Josef's daughter?" He saw her mouth twitch at the mention of the deceased physician's name.
"Please, help me," Michaela's head was lowered, her voice directed towards the ground below her, knowing she had potentially jeopardized her father's, indeed her entire family's, reputation, in what had been an emotionally charged outburst.
Michaela waited, hearing no verbal reply for what felt like an eternity. Gradually lifting her head, she saw the physician pace slowly back around his desk, taking a seat, and interlocking his fingers together.
"I'm sorry. I think you need to leave, at once," His voice was curt and cold once again. He raised his right arm in gesture towards the large wooden door through which Michaela had entered.
"I don't understand? You led me to believe," Michaela looked down at the small, faded envelope placed neatly in the middle of the desk, the man's booming response gaining her immediate attention.
"I led you to believe nothing. The fact that you dared to show your face, after signing your name to such a document, convinces me only of your unfaithfulness as a physician. And I take that far more seriously than your callousness as a woman," Horatio watched her brow crumple, reflecting on the time he'd spent in her father's company over the past two decades.
"Please, I know this is wrong. I know that this violates my oath but please, believe me, it is not something I take lightly, and it is truly something I never intended to have to," Michaela felt her spirits sink deep into her chest, feeling once again as if her words were falling on deaf ears.
"Your immorality appalls me, Miss. What would your family think, if they knew someone of your upbringing was contemplating such a sin? What would your father say? Josef was a man of fine character; he would have never condoned such a criminal act. You should be ashamed of yourself," Horatio gestured sharply to the envelope in the middle of the desk, remembering more specifically the content of the letter he'd received over a month ago.
"Don't you dare talk about my father! Do you know what it took to come here? Do you have any idea, of, of what I've put myself through to try and circumvent this." Michaela pulled her head swiftly to her right, feeling the embarrassment and degradation renew itself.
"That, does not dissuade me. On the contrary, doctor, although I use the term loosely, given your flagrant disregard for your obligations as a physician. I suggest you accept the reality of your situation without haste, and start taking your health seriously. Can't your family provide some assistance? There is no expectation that you keep this child, you only need to fulfill the requirements God has placed upon you, and carry this fetus to term." He leant forward in his leather chair, and rested his elbows firmly on the edge of the desk; as if to physically strengthen the delivery of his words.
"No, I can't. I've other responsibilities. That is why I need your help," Michaela gripped her right hand more firmly against her side, her fingers curling into a tight fist, the continued assumption that breaking such news to her family would be a trivial task proving more frightening that the albeit threatening tone in which the content was being delivered.
"You have responsibilities to your unborn child! Now, I've offered you several options: consult with your family, of which I personally know is extensive, and able to be of considerable assistance, or find a discrete location where you might further conceal your condition until such time as the situation has remedied itself. There is nothing more I can do." He unlocked his fingers and extended his hands out in dismissal.
"I can't have this baby." Michaela tilted her head slightly, her jaw tightening so as to further illustrate her conviction. Her resolve did not sway the doctor in the least. His reply was equally direct.
"That, is not up to you. That has already been decided by a higher power." Horatio rose to his feet, having decided that this conversation needed to be halted, for there would be no changing his mind. "Now, you will leave this office at once, or I will summon the constabulary and have you thrown in jail. And I'll tell you this; I've got colleagues throughout this state, indeed this very country who share my views. I so much as hear your name mixed up with any improprieties, I'll not only see you up on charges, at the very least I'll have your medical license. Your actions are in direct violation of your very oath as a physician, and the AMA would have you disbarred without hesitation," Dr Storer arrived to his feet, and reached for the unclaimed envelope as he crossed back around to the front of the desk. He saw the woman involuntarily dissolve into wracked sobs in front of him.
"Stop, please," she begged.
The man's harsh words had left Michaela unable to think clearly. Her mind was an ever-changing flash of images and sounds; her father, her graduation; her Clinic, her identity in every way was being threatened, and once again, she was unable to defend herself. Michaela felt her arms cross over her chest, her upper body heaving with previously contained emotion; none of this was her fault, however she was the one being punished.
"I see I've got your attention at last. Come now, don't distress yourself further. Here sit down. Take a moment." He reached for her shoulder, in an attempt to guide her back to the leather chair nearby. She stepped back away from his grasp, feeling the sternness of his rigid touch.
"No, you don't understand, you've got to help me. Please," Michaela's final plea was raw; her voice void of its precision and confidence. She looked down as he handed her the envelope back; in that small motion attempting to convey a pity; that by returning the single piece of written evidence of her criminal intent, he was granting her a second chance. Michaela was too desperate, however, to rationally interpret the significance of this gesture.
"The only help I will provide to you, Doctor, is to see that your baby is brought safely to term. From there, the choice is yours. Aside from that, you do not have a choice in the matter," Michaela noticed her helplessness translate into breathlessness.
She turned back towards the large wooden door, knowing this had all been for nothing. She was back to where she had started, only with the potential for far worse damage to be done. Michaela knew he could divulge this shattering information to any of a dozen colleagues of her father's, who, in turn would see that this was passed on to her mother and, in that single moment, Michaela wished with all her soul that she'd done something differently.
"I never did," she whispered in weak exasperation, before she gathered her purse from the chair and fled the examination room.
"Ma?" Brian looked up, hearing the door open and Michaela emerge; her expression blank, her body physically numb by this stage.
"Ma, you all right?" He frowned, noticing her flushed, tear-stained face, as well as her jilted movements.
Getting slowly to his feet, Brian watched as his mother, her head still lowered, walked across the small room, seemingly oblivious to his presence.
"I, gotta go, Miss Lucy," Brian chewed nervously on his lower lip, attempting to apologize for his quick departure. Looking quickly from the confused nurse who remained at her desk, Brian broke out into a hurried pace, struggling to maintain close proximity behind her, as Michaela departed swiftly from the room, not a sound passing from her lips.
"Brian?" Lucy stood slowly, barely having had time to perceive the chain of events she'd just witnessed, however sighing softly to herself when she saw the two drawings still resting on the corner of the small table.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Ma? What happened, Ma? With the doctor? Was he mean, Ma? How come you're upset?" Brian continued after Michaela, his panic fuelling his quick movement down the steps of the stone building and out onto the street, before he was able to catch up with her.
"Ma, ain't ya heard me?" Brian reached her side, nervously reaching forwards to pat her lower left arm.
"No, this isn't happening," Michaela remained unresponsive to both her son's verbal and physical prompting, lost in her own unconscious world of threats and humiliation.
"What ain't happening, Ma? Are we goin' back to the hotel?" Brian narrowed his eyebrows, unable to discern his mother's intentions from her aimless pacing along the edge of the sidewalk.
Michaela remained seemingly unaware of her location, as well as the presence of the child by her side, her arms locked protectively against her chest, her expression tormented, yet vacant at the same time.
"Want me to get a buggy, Ma? Take us back to the hotel?" Brian tried again to secure a firm grip to her arm, Michaela never ceasing in her movements along the pavement.
"What am I going to do?" Michaela drew a noisy breath, her throat obstructed by tears.
"I'll get a buggy, Ma. Then we can," Brian dropped his jaw, sensing that his mother was not hearing him, however the thought of this isolation proving too petrifying to pursue.
The young boy looked up and down the busy street for several moments, before eventually waving down a passing driver and turning back towards Michaela.
"Come on, Ma," he beckoned softly, as he tugged gently on her left wrist and indicated the awaiting transport.
"Ma?" Brian's forehead crinkled, again pulling more firmly on her arm, until she moved towards the buggy, her expression still remaining detached and lost.
"Where you off to, son?" The middle-aged driver inquired, turning around from the horse.
"The, the Radisson, please, sir." He felt his stomach leap into his throat, suddenly realizing that for whatever reason, responsibility for their destination was being placed squarely on his shoulders.
As the horses moved into a walk, their pace quickening into a trot, Brian turned back to Michaela, hoping that after some time had passed, she might respond to his words.
"Ma? It's the right place, ain't it? The Radisson?" He whispered, again nudging her arm with his right elbow.
Brian felt his confidence renewed as Michaela turned around slowly in response to his question. His optimistic expression dropped immediately, however, seeing the blank, unrecognizing dullness of her appearance.
"Ma? Please say somethin'? Ya scarin' me," he pleaded, running his hand along her lower left arm, watching her look without physical response between the contact, and the child sat by her side.
"It's me, Ma. It's Brian, Ma. Ya feelin' all right?" He gradually let his right hand drop from her arm, determining his actions to have had no effect on her whatsoever.
After several moments of silence, Michaela turned her attention back out to the passing scenery, Brian left with no choice but to do likewise.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Thank-you. Here," Brian tentatively reached for the dark blue purse that hung around Michaela's left wrist, quickly counting out the correct amount of money, and handing it to the driver.
"This is the right place, Ma. See, I was right," Brian felt his voice rise in his throat, thinking that perhaps once they'd arrived back to their hotel, Michaela would respond.
Jumping down from the buggy after her, the small boy took a meaningful glance at the peaceful fountain to his right as they entered the lobby, Michaela leading in a non-hurried pace several steps ahead of him.
"It's all right, Ma, we're back. Ya can tell me now. Was it something the doctor said, made ya upset?" Brian commenced once they'd left the crowded foyer, beginning the first flight of crimson carpeted stairs. Still Michaela did not respond, but instead delicately lifted the edge of her skirt to prevent tripping on the steps.
"Was it bad, Ma? Is the baby all right? Is that why you were seein' the doctor? Is something wrong with the baby?" He felt the fears multiply exponentially in his mind, quickly deducing that something being wrong would explain Michaela's out-of-character behavior.
By this stage, they had arrived in the long corridor which led to their room. Brian looked frantically from his mother's trance-like expression and back down along the corridor. "Maybe, maybe if ya just have a rest for awhile? Ma always used to say that plenty a rest was always good when ya havin' a baby. Then ya might feel better?" Brian nodded several times, trying more to ease his own concern than influence Michaela's actions.
"Here, Ma." He slipped her purse from her wrist, locating the room key and pushing the door open for her.
Michaela's face animated for the first time, the moment her eyes had adjusted to the darkened room before her. There; on the edge of the bed; exactly as she had left it hours earlier, was her black leather medical bag.
"Ma?" Brian's voice was slightly higher in pitch, his hopes had been replenished by the life which he saw return to his mother's eyes. The young boy let his utterance pass, instead, closing the door and looking back to see Michaela dash quickly across the room to take possession of the large, yet malleable object. Slipping her dark blue purse securely inside, Michaela paced several steps across the room, consumed with the mere sensation of the weight of the object in her arms. Brian frowned, confused by the desperate manner in which her fingers clutched the bag.
Brian paced carefully back across the room to arrive by Michaela's side, his head tilted in worry when still, she did not utter a single word. "How come ya left it, Ma?" He whispered, however his expectation of a reply had dissipated.
Brian's eyes widened, as Michaela, her fingernails dug violently into the soft leather of the bag, let her weight drop down to the corner of the large, immaculately appointed bed. Her face gradually lowered, and still she remained silent.
About to change the subject and enquire as to when they would be having supper, Brian was startled by a sudden shrill whimper; the kind he had heard on several occasions when he'd accidentally stepped on Pup's paw.
"Ma?" He blinked, as if in attempt to persuade himself that the distressed cry hadn't come from his mother.
Brian's face dropped instantly, as the only response to his question was a reiterated, stronger sob.
Hesitantly bringing his left hand to his mother's right shoulder, Brian watched the tears collect once again in her eyes, her upper body continually wracked with vicious heaves, as she allowed herself to weep uncontrollably. He felt her shoulder tense under his small fingers, as the volume and distress of her tears grew into anguished howls.
"I'm sorry, Ma. I'm sorry. I dunno what to do," Brian knelt carefully on the edge of the bed and leant closer to wrap his right arm across Michaela's chest. Slowly, he pressed his head closer to hers, until his chin came to rest lightly on her right shoulder.
Still she cried.
Michaela was numb to the physical contact; numb to the sounds and cues around her; lost completely in her chaotic ordeal. She could not hear the depths of her own sobs, nor feel the tears that cooled her heated cheeks. She had been consumed in a moment of complete depersonalization; her mind consoled by the comfort of the item she kept seized firmly to her chest.
She could hear the doctor's livid voice replaying the words over and over in her head, and with each repetition, Michaela gripped the leather object tighter and tighter.
No, No, you've gone too far. You're risking everything. You've no choice now, Michaela.
Her voice continued as it had done in the past, a bantering back and forth between two opinions, almost distinct personalities, arguing her very fate between themselves.
If I have this baby, my family, my Father's reputation, will all be disgraced.
Michaela, there is no 'if' now; if you're discovered once again trying to abort this pregnancy, you'll be arrested. Worse, you'll lose everything you've struggled for, you'll have your license revoked. You'll be stripped of that which you worked so hard for.
But I'll let my family down. Father. He would be so ashamed. I just want my life back. Please.
This is your life now, Michaela. Think how ashamed your Father would be if he could see what a disaster you've made of the privileges he bestowed upon you. He would be more ashamed to see you disbarred, Michaela.
That is the ultimate failing.
Michaela looked down once again at the black bag pressed against her upper body. For as long as she had that object, she kept with her the assurance that she was still a doctor. That, this final piece of identity could not be taken from her; that this one, remaining possession would be protected; guarded with her very life if need be. That nothing else mattered now.
"Please Ma, have a nap," Brian removed his chin from her shoulder, and pulled back to see the tears which continued to build silently in her eyes. As he ran his fingertips softly against her shoulder and upper arm, Brian rose to his feet, relieved at least that she'd ceased her pained wailing.
"Ma, rest for a bit," he repeated, his lips quivering slightly when she again showed no indication of having heard his voice. Reaching forwards, Brian thought it sensible to take the bag from her grasp, yet was unprepared for the resistance he received from his persuasive tugging.
"No, No!" Michaela quickly overpowered the child. The force of her retaliation threw him off-balance and sent him sinking to the floor with a stunned gasp.
Brian's breathing was labored, however the little boy remained perfectly still as he watched his mother stare without recognition down at his crumpled form. Pulling himself into a crouched position, he thought it best to stay still for awhile longer.
Michaela felt every muscle within her tense at the intrusive action, her aggressive response one she considered justified by the significance of what was being threatened. Her mind was reeling; her emotional fragility having augmented her protectiveness into mortal dread. Looking suspiciously back over her shoulder as she turned, Michaela drew her knees up onto the bed, arriving on all fours to once again check that the perceived threat was eliminated. Being sufficiently satisfied at the sight of the figure frozen on the floor at a safe distance from her, Michaela allowed her guard to drop and began a slow crawl to the head of the bed, pausing every few steps to drag the medical bag along in her right hand.
Arriving at the top of the bed, she tucked her medical bag close to her chest again, quickly checking one final time that the form on the floor several yards away had remained motionless and was no longer a threat. Michaela rolled onto her side, her knees drawing as far as physically possible up towards her chest, her arms snuggly wrapped around the black bag, which was still tightly cradled against her chest.
Hearing nothing aside from her effortful breathing, Michaela cautiously dropped her head to the large pillows, the sound of the air rushing in and out from her lungs slowly decreasing, as her eyes dropped closed; sleep coming as a welcome refuge.
Brian felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, not daring to move a muscle until he was confident his mother really was asleep. Waiting for a solid minute or two, he kept his body low against the floor, as he crawled across the room towards the elaborately embroidered settee. Again, checking that Michaela remained unaware of his movements, the petrified child slid his body up into the padded piece of furniture, his tearful eyes gazing out through the large window into the darkening evening sky.