Say Hello to the Broken-Hearted (17 page)

John swallowed that well. No water was needed to smooth the
peristalsis.

He was utterly speechless. He managed a smirk, turned away and left for home to digest the ordeal.

John arrived at the steps of his apartment. He was hesitant to go inside. Afraid the disappointment would be too much for Karla to handle. He threw his folder to the ground and rested his feet on the second step.

A few minutes had
passed after which Karla looked through the window to find him sitting there with his face buried in the marble tile.

She opened the door and r
ested her head against the doorpost. Her perspicacity read well the reasons for his sadden demeanor.

“What
happened John?” She asked anyway.

“I didn’t get the job…I failed the interview baby.” He replied from the side of his mouth.

“You want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about…I didn’t get the job and it sucks!” The hard harsh feelings echoed in his voice, such disappointment.

“I feel Pres-S-U-R-E-D,” He stressed, “As far as I can see, I am hopeless. Karla I feel like I am becoming a different person, for the worst. All that has been happening recently have had a bearing on me; you being pregnant and the attention you need. The expenses that come with that, the household bills, applying for fifty jobs, too few call backs, only three interviews and no fucking job.” John cursed, for the first time in a long while he felt restless, “I think all of this might just be a little bit too much for me right now.”

His response hit her cold and hard.
Those words coming from him was the last thing she expected. A sudden sense of distrust and broken loyalty jolted through her body. The words were almost venomous.

“John, listen to me carefully.” The aggravation was brazen in her tone, “I do understand what you are going through. This is coming from
a girl that almost committed suicide because life had gotten to her.” She forced with a stern voice and folded arms, “You need to get it together! I am carrying your baby for Christ sake! And for you to say such a thing is beyond me.”

“Karla what do you want me to do?” John asked contentiously.

“I don’t care what you do John, all I am saying is. I refuse to suffer anymore, especially with a baby growing inside of me.”

John stood and turned around to face her, “You want me to sell drugs Karla? Is that it?”

She looked right into his eyes and without careful thought she replied, “As I said John, you need to get it together. Right now you are acting like a child and you are not! You are a man with a family, acknowledge that!”

John proceeded up the steps and stood twelve inches apart. “Karla, I have tried everything there is to be tried.
Right now I am lost, I swear!” John stressed, “God knows I love you dearly, but I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Karla searched his face in an attempt to find a sense of guilt or regret for what he just said, but there was none.

“I guess my mother was right. Sometimes, love is not enough.”

Chapter 24

The
month of October rode in on a cold horse. With it had come an adverse influenza breakout. Karla Steelburg had contracted a heavy load of the virus. The antiquated remedy of coffee and lime juice didn’t aid her one bit. She had gotten increasingly ill over a period of four days. To the point where John became terrified that it might seriously affect the baby.

“Those
won’t help either.” John opened as he entered the kitchen to find Karla overdosing on Advil and peppermint tea. “You need to see a doctor--get some antibiotics. If you continue like this it may just turn into pneumonia.”

“No-
-you know I am afraid of doctors, I’ll be fine, I promise. I feel better already.” She lied with an almost convincing smile.

“Karla, I have never bee
n more serious.” John would not tolerate her careless behavior due to a euphemistic phobia. “Please remember that you are way into your second trimester and you have not been to a hospital since we’ve been here. If anything happens to my child, I will never forgive you.” That was clearly spelled out to her.

“Ok
-ok I’ll go. I will do as you wish. She knew well that John was right. She was overdue for a visit to the doctor. But the memories of her last visit resided in the back of her head. Blood on white satin makes unforgettable stains.

“And I mean
today-now!” John ordered.

“Ok-I hear you!” Karla sig
hed, “Just let me finish my drink and I’ll be on my way.”

“Good.” John promptly replied and left for a walk.

Karla Steelburg entered the lobby of the Lex A. Simpson Maternity clinic. She paused for a moment at the door. The sight of sixty pregnant women coughing and wheezing was extremely perturbing.

She would have turned around and opted for a private i
nstitution, but as hard luck had it, she couldn’t afford it. She proceeded to the registration desk then isolated herself in fashion magazines for a mere three hours.

“Hello! Karla
Steelburg! Karla Steelburg!” The young female resident called.

“I am here!” Karla
acknowledged.

“This way please.”

She followed the young doctor into the examining room. She wore a bright smile that made Karla a bit more relaxed.

“My name is Sara
Crenshaw,” She introduced, as she gloved her hands, “Please have a seat over on that bed.”

The sheets were sky blue this time and
were made of thin plastic instead of cotton.

As she cushioned herself comfortable in the middle of the bed a man dressed in a black shirt, red tie, han
ging stethoscope and white overcoat entered the room. His wrinkled face did not smile. Maybe it couldn’t. There wasn’t a subtle or pleasant trait in his character. At least not in Karla’s eyes. She glanced at his hands. They were wrinkled just about the same as his face. His fingers trembled non-stop. The panic became overwhelming. She felt her own hands starting to shiver uncontrollably and her heart beating at a faster rate.

“Kill me dead before I have another abortion. No way! I am leaving.” The paranoia sieged into her reality.

“Who are you?” She asked shockingly as she stared with puzzled eyes at Sara.

“I am Frank Butcher-
-your doctor.” He replied with an unwelcoming voice which was abrasive as steel.

“Steel-Steel utensils.”
Those words provoked her thoughts on hearing his voice and within split seconds she went blank. Dark silhouettes of the faceless man conjured. This time his hands were made of scissors, twissors, clippers and tongs. He aggressively, with brute force shredded her womb without care of her screaming rejection of the excruciating pain. In the instance he was done, blood, her blood was everywhere. On his face, on everything that was white, as well as his hands made of steel--steel utensils. A stimulant of light snapped her neurons and she resuscitated out of the terror.

“I am sorry. I
can’t do this--I have to go.” She screamed and quickly stood to her feet and grabbed her hand bag.

“Is there something wrong?” Doctor Butcher asked as
he held her shoulder and searched her eyes for consciousness.

Karla jolted backwards and braced
against the bed, “I am so sorry,” She sighed, “I had a terrible ordeal a couple months ago and it’s apparent that I haven’t gotten over it.”

“Oh I see
. You want to tell me about it?” Doctor Butcher offered, “And is there anything I can get you at the moment?”

“Yes,
I would rather have a female doctor see me. It would make me a lot more comfortable and cooperative, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, no problem at all.
I’ll have Doctor Katherine Brown see you then.” He offered.

“Great,” Karla delighted, “She seems awesome already.”

“Don’t worry. As a doctor I perfectly understand. I’ll have her in with you in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you so much.” She graced.

He nodded and turned to Sara, “Sara in the meanwhile, could you fetch Miss. Steelburg a glass of water please.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

They left her in the solitude of her own thoughts.

Karla began observing the room. She saw five ants
carrying a piece of crumb across the cream marble tiles. The chairs appeared new to her and under-manufactured; excellent for sitting but minimal for sleeping. The sound of the nebulizer pumping oxygen caught her ear. “Thank God for the elemental abundance.” She thought. Karla then noticed the box of one hundred unit syringes on the desk beside the box of medium size gloves. “I could kill myself with those. One direct stab to the neck, straight through my wind pipe…nah, maybe some other time.” She sighed in dismissal of the suicide thoughts then focused her eyes to the ceiling. She realized that one of the fluorescent bulbs went bad. No light came from it, a rather dark discoloration formed colloids in it.

“No light-dark-dark night.” Those words again surged into her sub-conscience and resurrected a sequence of thoughts. Again she went totally blank. Time elapsed in front of her eyes and in a fraction of a second she found herself fighting for her innocence. It was a dark night when s
he was raped. There was a power-cut and mother wasn’t there.

“No wait! Steven what are you doing!” Karla cried.

“Little girl take your clothes off--now!!” He ordered as he unbuttoned his shirt.

She shook her h
ead, refusing to cooperate. So he grabbed and ripped her silk night gown and threw her body onto the couch. On falling her fingers brushed against the candle. The fume diminished as it hit the ground.

“Miss
Steelburg! Miss Steelburg.” Doctor Brown uttered as she shrugged her shoulders.

After a minute the jolting action was received. Within a millisecond it was registered in her nervous system causing her to blink once
, then rapidly as her system assimilated to full gear.

“Oh God, I black
ed-out again didn’t I?”

“Yes this is the second time in less than an hour.” Sara declared, “Based on my knowledge this is not good.”

“Does this happen often?” Doctor Brown asked.

“No, not at
all, I think it’s the hospital setting that is triggering it.”

“You want to tell me about it?” I may be able to help.” Doctor Brown added.

Karla sighed and mustered the courage. “I-was-raped. My step father took my virginity when I was fifteen.”

“Oh my God, I am so sor
ry.” Doctor Brown sympathized. The resident didn’t comment, just appeared shocked.

“No its fine.
I have learned to deal with that emotionally. I have moved on more or less. To be honest I have forgiven him.”

“Are you absolutely
positive about that?” The doctor sought clarity, “People who have moved on don’t just out of nowhere have blackouts after four years.”

“Yeah, I am sure…I think. However,
what is actually bothering me lately is.” She paused, took a deep breath, then proceeded, “I had an abortion recently. To be honest, I am drowning in guilt. I cry hard about it and wish that I could turn back the hands of time. I-killed-my-baby.” She shivered into tears, “It doesn’t matter how many kids I have, I’ll never be able to replace him.” She wiped the tears from her chin.

“Oh
sweetie, don’t cry.” Doctor Brown comforted, “Look, sometimes in life as women, we do what we have to do. It may not be the best decision at the time, but God knows it is hard on us, so if we mess up, we damn sure deserve fifty more chances to make it right.”

Karla managed a smile. She couldn’t resist. They began giggling.

Sara affected a warm embrace and she indulged it. “You will be ok--you’re strong.”

“Thank
you. She graced.

“Now let us get you examined, so that we can see the gend
er of the healthy cute baby you are carrying.
 

“Ok, I am ready.”

“Hey Sara! Please take this prescription to the pharmacy for me—it’s antibiotics for her flu.”

“Sure,
I’ll get that in a hurry.”
        “Thank you, we will be waiting for you.”

“Now Karla
remove your blouse and lay on the bed please.”

Doctor Brown added the
gel to her stomach and commenced the ultrasound procedure.