-Ellie-
I fell asleep at some point during the journey back. I woke up to Flynn shaking me.
I sat up, startled. We were back in Wellsburg. It was morning already. The sun had come up and the town looked less depressing in the early light of day.
“I wasn’t sure where you wanted me to take you,” he said, sounding tired.
“Just take me home. I can get my car and head over to the hospital,” I said, rubbing my eyes and feeling my head start to pound from nerves and lack of sleep.
Flynn cleared his throat. “I can take you to the hospital if you want. I can stay with you,” he offered.
If I were in a better frame of mind I would have recognized his words for what they were. He was trying to make things right between us. He wanted to be there for me.
But my grief and guilt were destructive forces and I could only hear his dispassionate voice offering because he felt like he had to. Even though I should have known better. Flynn didn’t operate like that.
I was tired and stressed and not in the mood to navigate through the impenetrable waters of Flynn Hendricks’ thought process.
“Just take me home. I need to go by myself,” I said. Flynn did as I asked resuming his silence. When he dropped me off, he didn’t get out of the car to help me with my suitcase. He didn’t walk me to the door and say goodbye. He did nothing to soothe the snarly tangles of our wounded relationship. But it wasn’t really his job to do that. I had messed things up. I had done this. I couldn’t let him comfort me.
I didn’t deserve that.
And it was best to do it alone.
“Bye, Ellie,” he said as I walked up the sidewalk toward my apartment building.
I didn’t acknowledge him.
I walked into my apartment feeling years older. I jumped into the shower, hoping it would wake me up. I needed to be alert in order to deal with what was waiting for me at the hospital.
I got changed and grabbed my car keys.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t see Flynn’s car still sitting outside my apartment. And I didn’t notice his eyes following me, watching me leave.
“I’m looking for Dania Blevins. She just gave birth,” I said to the cranky receptionist at the hospital. She barely looked at me. She pointed down the hallway.
“Labor and delivery is down there. Just read the signs. That’s usually a good place to start,” she sneered. Someone clearly loved their job.
“Wow, thanks. And I’ll make sure to let your boss know how helpful you are,” I said, giving her my sweetest smile. Her mouth twisted and her eyes bulged. I wiggled my fingers in a wave as I headed down the hallway.
I found my way to labor and delivery with little trouble, no thanks to the bitchy receptionist. The birthing unit at Wellsburg General wasn’t very big. The nursery was just as you came in and the four post delivery rooms lined the walls to the right.
I stopped at the glass looking into the room where the babies slept in their tiny incubators. I wondered which one was Dania’s. But then I remembered Reggie saying he wasn’t breathing on his own. That meant he wouldn’t be with the rest of the babies. I wondered where he was.
I found Dania’s room and looked inside. She was awake. Her long hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head. She wore a non-descript hospital gown. She laid in her bed, her face turned to look out the window. She looked so small and terrified. It broke my heart.
I lightly knocked on the door. “Dania?”
She looked in my direction and while there was recognition there wasn’t any response. Reggie had said Dania was insistent that I come. But she didn’t seem very happy to find me there.
“Ellie,” she said, her voice dead.
I walked into her room and approached the bed. She had an IV in her arm but otherwise she seemed to be physically okay. Her big belly that I had become so used to seeing was noticeably gone.
I thought about asking how she was, but that seemed like such a stupid question. I wanted to know where her baby was. What had happened to him. But I didn’t dare bring it up before she was ready to tell me.
I sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand in mine.
“I’m here now,” I said softly. Her fingers curled limply between my palms. Her face was eerily blank. She looked pale and listless. We sat, not saying a word, the flickering of the television flashing against the wall.
“He’s gone, Ellie,” Dania muttered. I looked down at her, not sure that I heard correctly.
Big fat tears started to streak down her face, her chest heaving. “I lost him. They took him away,” she shuddered on a sob.
I gripped her hand tightly. “We’ll figure it out, Dania. We’ll do it together,” I promised.
And then she let go and started crying in earnest. She closed her eyes, her body immobile except for her shaking shoulders. I moved closer and carefully wrapped my arms around her. She held herself rigid and away from me. She didn’t allow herself to take comfort. But I held her anyway, saying nothing as she wailed. I rubbed her back and ran my hand down her hair as I tried to soothe her. But nothing helped.
Dania was broken.
When she was finally able to stop crying, furiously wiped away her tears. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy and her nose was red.
“What happened, Dania?” I asked her.
She chewed on her thumbnail and looked like she was trying not to cry again.
“I didn’t know anything was wrong. I didn’t know he had a heart defect! How was I supposed to know that?” she asked, sounding dangerously close to hysterical.
“Your doctor never said there was anything wrong?” I asked incredulously, not sure I believed her. I had seen been with Dania to several of her prenatal appointments. And I knew that she tended to disregard and dismiss anything she didn’t want to hear.
“I don’t know…maybe he did. I can’t remember,” she admitted. She lifted her tear stained face, her eyes pleading with me for something I couldn’t give her.
“I just want to see him. I need to know he’s okay. I know I f*cked up! But I need my little boy.” Dania’s words ended on a strangled whisper. I gripped her hand, letting her squeeze as tightly as she needed to.
I didn’t say anything…pretty sure nothing could be said to make this better for her.
I was sitting with Dania later in the afternoon. I hadn’t left her side except to go get her some lunch from Ma’s Diner. I picked up her favorite cheese covered French fries, hoping she would eat something. She had given me a tired smile and thanked me but had pushed the box away.
Her numbness scared me. Even in high school when our foster mom had knocked her around, or after Stu had dumped her, she had never lost herself. She had retained that spark that was undeniably Dania.
But that had all changed. Her fire had gone out.
Dania had given up.
Her obstetrician, Dr. Ball, came in several times to check on her. Dr. Ball had asked me to step out of the room so he could have a look at the incision site from her C-section.
I did as I was asked and went out into the hallway. While I was waiting I saw a couple of people in professional suits talking with the nurse on duty.
Instinct told me they were here for Dania. And I was right. A few minutes later, the nurse led them down the hallway towards me. I watched as they slipped into Dania’s room and closed the door. Dr. Ball and the nurse left a few minutes later, telling me I was free to go inside.
Dania’s shoulders were shaking when I returned. Her hair covered her face, but I knew she was crying. One of the suits sat in the chair closest to Dania’s bed. The other stood a little off to the side. They both looked up at me as I entered.
The woman in the chair gave me a strained smile. “Are you a family member?” she asked me.
“She’s my sister,” Dania said defiantly. She had some paperwork in her lap, the pages blotted with her tears.
“Oh, well hello. My name is Sharon Miller. I’m a caseworker for the Department of Health and Human Resources Child Protective Services Unit. I’m here to talk about Miss Blevins’ baby.”
“He has a name! It’s Brandon!” she yelled, her tears melting away into anger. I was relieved to see some of her spark return. Angry Dania was a hell of a lot better than unemotional Dania.
Brandon.
That was the first time I had heard his name.
“Of course.” Sharon Miller nodded her head and looked down at the file in her lap. “Your hearing has been scheduled for this Friday. It would behoove you to be there,” she said. Who the hell says words like behoove? I wanted to smack her.
“At this time the judge will listen to the evidence and determine whether Brandon will be remanded into the care of the state for an extended period of time. I’m putting together a service plan that I will be passing on to your foster care worker. It details the criteria for visitation and possible reunification down the line. But Miss Blevins, this is serious. Your son has significant medical issues that will impact his health for the rest of his life. This is directly related to your negligence. The judge will be taking your doctor’s reports into account as well as the report from the neonatal unit who are currently providing his care. You need to start thinking about where you want to go from here, and what you can do to see your son again, if that’s what you want,” Sharon said, her pleasant smile evaporating. Her mouth set into a firm line as she looked at Dania with barely disguised contempt.
“Wait, so Brandon is in state custody?” I asked, trying to understand exactly what Dania was facing.
I was looking at Dania who had started to cry again, her hands covering her face. Obviously I wasn’t going to get any answers for her, so I turned to Sharon who nodded.
“We were notified by the pediatrician on duty after Brandon’s birth. Miss Blevins was reported to be intoxicated when she arrived at the hospital and was rushed in for an emergency C-section. The unborn child was at significant risk. Brandon was born with a hole in his heart that has required surgery. His lungs are underdeveloped, given that he is three months premature. He is currently breathing through a ventilator. His condition is very grave. And while it is believed he will survive, he will have a long, difficult road ahead of him. And it is alleged that his condition is due to Miss Blevins’ continued drug and alcohol use while pregnant. Brandon, aside from his defects, was also diagnosed with fetal alcohol syndrome. The state has been granted emergency custody, which is standard in cases like this. He will be found a foster home after he is strong enough to leave the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit over at Barkely General.”
Sharon got to her feet and put the folder she had been holding back into her bag. Her colleague, who hadn’t said a word, slipped out into the hallway. Sharon looked down at Dania, who was still crying.
“I know this is difficult for her. But she has to think long and hard about what she’s going to do from here. She has the opportunity to turn this around. The department will work to provide her with the resources she needs to get counseling and parenting support. She may even be able to visit Brandon. And maybe, down the road, she will have a chance to raise him herself.” Sharon’s face softened a bit and I knew she wasn’t a bad person. Just someone working a sad and depressing job.
“Will you make sure she’s at her hearing on Friday?” she asked me.
I nodded. “I’ll try,” I said.
Sharon nodded and gave me a small smile. “Okay then, please let Dania know we’ll be in touch,” she said before walking out of the room.
I turned back to Dania. She had stopped sobbing and was now staring at the ceiling.
I walked over to her and took the paperwork from her hands. It was a legal document detailing the Department of Health and Human Resources’ emergency custody of Brandon. It was stated that it was granted on the grounds of child endangerment and abuse and neglect at the hands of his biological mother, Dania Blevins. It listed her court hearing on Friday.
“Dania, are you okay?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.
She just shook her head, the tears starting up again.
“He’s gone. I’ve lost him,” she mumbled.
“But the CPS lady said you can work on getting him back. You can visit him,” I reasoned.
Dania would only shake her head. “He’s gone,” she said again.
I sat down in the chair that Sharon, the CPS worker, had vacated only minutes before. I held Dania’s hand while she cried, not sure what else I could do to help her.