Say Yes (Something More) (2 page)

To my surprise, Jackson stands up and gives Mr. James a look. That’s when I notice how much my former fiancé has changed. His stomach paunch isn’t so pronounced, and his cheekbones are hollow. There are dark circles underneath his eyes, making him look far older than twenty-four.

“Dad, just drop it, okay?” His voice is firm, unrelenting. Kind of the way he used to talk to me whenever he insisted on getting his way, which was all the time. Then he turns to me and his features soften. “Tyler has been asking for you.”

I release Karri’s hand, speechless. Jackson and I haven’t spoken since I gave back the ring and started dating Andrés, and now he’s actually being nice to me?

“Really?” I finally manage to say. “How’s he doing?”

Jackson flashes a dimpled smile, the same smile I fell in love with. “He’s a little fighter. I think he’ll pull through. He’s been calling for his Teeny.”

Ugh. I cringe. Jackson doesn’t sound as cute as Tyler when he says my stupid nickname, and I’m reminded of why I broke it off with him in the first place.

After a while, dating Jackson was like living with a festering wound. First, little things started to annoy me. How he’d always eat the last cookie or the last scoop of ice cream without offering me a bite. I brushed off his bad habits and ignored the pain his selfishness caused me. But then he wanted to tell me how to dress, act, and think. He even insisted on choosing what I was going to eat at restaurants. The relationship got worse and worse, until finally it was so stifling, I could hardly breathe. 

Of one thing I’m certain: leaving Jackson and finding Andrés is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Still, there’s no room in my life for animosity toward my former fiancé. Besides, if he hadn’t cheated on me, there’d be no Ty, so any pain and humiliation I might feel is worth it.   

I want so badly to see the baby. I know he’s hurting and scared, and I have an overwhelming urge to hold him. “Can I see him?” I ask Jackson.

“He’s in surgery,” Karri blurts, sobbing again.

I swear a few moments with Karri, and I feel like I’m caught up in an emotional tornado, and all of her drama and angst just suck the life out of me.

“Surgery?” Nobody told me the baby needed surgery.

“It’s not surgery.” Jackson rolls his eyes. “It’s a biopsy.” Even though they managed to conceive Tyler, I sense no love lost between the two of them. Jackson has always made it clear he despises Karri, and she’s implied as much over the past few years. I still can’t understand why they slept together.  

There is a gleam of loathing in Karri’s eyes as she sneers at Jackson. “Same difference.” She throws up her hands. “My grandpa had a biopsy when he had colon cancer. Three weeks later he died!”

Jackson storms up to Karri and scowls down at her like she’s a wayward child who’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “The doctor didn’t say it was cancer.” He wags a finger in her face. “They don’t know what’s wrong.
That’s
why they’re doing a biopsy!”

“God only knows what he’s got, considering his prenatal care,” Mr. James says from behind Jackson. There is venom in his voice as he adds another jab. “Or lack thereof.”  

Karri drops her gaze to the floor.

Now is not the time to start pointing fingers,
I want to tell Mr. James, but I don’t. This is Karri’s battle, and I can’t justify defending her, not when I know Karri has been a lousy mother. We’ve fought too many times over Tyler’s care, or as Mr. James put it, “lack thereof.”  
 

A middle-aged man in surgical scrubs enters through the secured door at the end of the room, and I know our wait is over. My heart stops beating for an eternal second as I see his concerned expression. Considering all of the heartache I’ve suffered over the past twenty-one years of my life, I’m not a very religious person, but I close my eyes and pray anyway.

Please, God, don’t let Tyler die. 

Mr. James is the first to approach the doctor. “How is he?”

“He’s fine.” The doctor smiles. “He’s in recovery. You can see him in a few minutes.”

 “Is it cancer?” Karri practically barrels over the doctor as she rushes up to him. “Does my baby have cancer?!”

Jackson’s family collectively groans behind her.

The doctor takes a step back, waving a hand at Karri. “No, no, nothing like that.”

Hope surges in my chest. Okay, not cancer, although I wasn’t expecting a baby to have cancer, anyway.  

“Why don’t we sit down and talk?” The doctor grabs Karri by the elbow and leads her to one of the lounge chairs in the corner. We all follow his lead and crowd around him as he sits across from her.

The doctor smooths a hand down his face as he slowly exhales. “The villi in Tyler’s small intestine are severely damaged,” he says matter-of-factly, as if we’re supposed to know what the hell that means.

Karri’s eyes bulge as she gasps. I have no idea what villi, are, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a good thing they’re damaged.  

“His gut has been compromised. Vitamins aren’t being absorbed,” he continues, “which explains why he’s underweight and sick.” He leans over and pats Karri on the hand. “The good news is, his condition is treatable with changes in his diet.”

 It’s only then, when I release a breath, I realize I’d stopped breathing.
Treatable. His condition is treatable!
I’m so happy I want to scream with joy, but I know Jackson’s dad will make disapproving comments. 

Karri’s lips pull back in a smile that looks almost painful. “What kind of changes?”

“Tyler has Celiac Disease,” the doctor says, “and he requires a gluten free diet for the rest of his life.”  

Mr. James steps forward. “What caused him to get this disease?” He says in a booming voice before shooting Karri an evil look.

The doctor rises and addresses Mr. James. “Celiac is a genetic disease.” He nods to the rest of us, his gaze stopping on Karri’s mom who’s slouching at the back of the group, coughing into her palm. “I suggest the other members of your family be screened for it as well. If left untreated, it can lead to stomach cancer and a host of other ailments.”

Mr. James folds his arms across his chest, his eyes turning thunderous. “We are all healthy in
my
family.”

As if Mr. James needs any more encouragement to be a condescending ass, Karri’s mom’s coughing grows louder. She doesn’t sound well at all. I lead her to the cushioned chair beside Karri.

“Maybe you should get checked for this disease,” I tell Mrs. Peterson. “Maybe that’s why you’re always sick.”

“I don’t have time for the doctor,” she tells me as she grabs a tissue out of her purse. Her long peppered hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and for the first time I notice bald patches on her scalp. Her eyes are sunk in their sockets, and her skin is practically hanging off her bones. It seems every time I see this woman, she looks worse. 

After her wheelchair-bound husband died of a chest infection four months ago and Karri moved back in with her, she hasn’t had much to do, other than fuss over Karri. I know she has more time to take care of her health. I wish Mrs. Peterson would go to a doctor. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known. I’d hate it if something happened to her. 

Karri looks at her mom and then rolls her eyes as Mrs. Peterson coughs into her tissue.

“How am I expected to know what to feed him?” Karri says as she looks up at the doctor with an accusatory glare, like he’s the one who gave Ty this disease.

The doctor smiles at Karri, but I can see the condescension in his gaze. He and Mr. James share a glance, as if they realize they’re the only two intelligent people in the room.  

“Our nutritionist will be here momentarily. She’ll go over Tyler’s dietary needs with you,” the doctor says.  

Mr. James fixes the doctor with a smug expression. “I will hire my own nutritionist and a chef if need be.” 

The doctor’s eyes widen. “Well then, little Tyler is very lucky. None of my other patients with Celiac can afford personal chefs.”

“Tyler will always receive the best care, so long as he is in
our
custody.” Mr. James looks at Karri as if she’s no more significant than the mold growing beneath his expensive leather shoes.  

Karri groans and slumps. She’s been trying to regain custody of Ty ever since she got out of rehab a few months ago. This disease will be one more obstacle. I’ve got a few sorority sisters who have Celiac disease, and I know their food is more expensive. Karri and her mother can barely afford to feed themselves. Besides, I don’t entirely trust Karri with Ty. Though she successfully completed rehab, this isn’t the first time she’s kicked the habit, and it may not be the last. With Karri’s mom sick all the time, as loathe as I am to admit it, Tyler is probably better off with the James family.

This saddens me, because I fear if I want to spend more time with Ty, I might have to deal with Jackson. I glance at the man I almost married, horrified to see he’s staring back at me. He’s got a wistful look in his eyes, and when he flashes me his signature boyish smile, I shiver, feeling like a thousand tiny spiders are burrowing beneath my skin.

Just when I thought I’d gotten rid of him for good.

* * *

“How are we supposed to compete with personal chefs?”

Karri is pacing the waiting room floor while waiting for the nurses to call us back into Tyler’s room. Jackson and his family are speaking privately with the doctor.   

“I’ve got sorority sisters who can’t eat gluten,” I tell her, trying to stay upbeat. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll Google it. We can figure this out.”

“Now I’ve got to learn how to cook a whole new way.” Mrs. Peterson sinks into the chair, her chest rattling with each intake of breath. “I hardly have the energy to cook for myself anymore.”

“Mr. James is right. It’s my fault Tyler has this.” Scowling, she waves a hand at her mother, as if the woman is to blame for being sick. “It’s my family’s bad genetics.”

I stand and walk over to Karri, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “It’s nobody’s fault.”

Karri shrugs off my grip and turns from me. “Maybe if I’d had better prenatal care.”

Maybe,
I think to myself. I can’t help it. I remember all those times I would nag Karri about taking prenatal vitamins. How I’d have to practically drag her to her OB checkups, hide her sugary sodas, and force-feed her healthy foods. But it doesn’t matter now, does it? What matters is making sure Tyler gets the care he needs so he can get healthy.

“Karri, don’t do this to yourself.” I stand behind her and barely breathe the words.

Though I can’t see her facial expression, her shoulders are shaking. She sniffles loudly before turning to me with red-rimmed eyes.  

“Don’t do what? It’s my fault.” She pounds her chest with a fist. “It’s my goddam fault! Do you think I quit drugs when I was pregnant? Do you?” She’s got this wild look in her eyes, like she’s a trapped, wounded animal.

No, I didn’t know she’d used drugs when she was pregnant, and now I feel like a total idiot for having been so trusting. I remember Karri looking me in the eye, reassuring me her baby wasn’t going to come out hooked on drugs, promising me she’d quit using for good. I wonder, not for the first time, if I can ever believe anything she says.

She’s sobbing into her hands now, chest heaving as her cries grow louder. Some part of me wants to comfort her, but another part realizes she deserves to hurt, just like she’s hurt Ty. Just like she’s hurt me.

I hold up both hands. “Karri, calm down.” It’s the best I’ve got. It’s the only comfort I can give to someone who doesn’t deserve it.

“I did this to him,” she screams and throws up both hands. “I made my baby sick!”

She turns and runs out the door. Mrs. Peterson rises from her chair and limps over to me, wincing from the pain in her bad knee, which is obviously worsening.

“Let her go. She’s been acting like this all week. She’ll calm down,” she says. Then she falls into the nearest seat and rubs her temples. “This darned headache of mine.”

A headache caused by all the stress Karri has piled on her, no doubt.

I don’t know why I’d hoped Karri would come back from rehab a rational, calm person. I’d had this naïve belief that once she quit drugs, things would be better. But things aren’t better. She’s acting like the same irrational, meth head. Then it hits me.

Oh, God, what if Karri’s back on drugs? 

Chapter Two

Christina

Andrés sends me a text while Mrs. Peterson and I wait to see Tyler.

How’s the baby?

I love how Andrés is concerned over my ex-fiancé’s baby. Any other man wouldn’t care, but Andrés isn’t any man. I feel terrible for making him wait at a bar across the street from the hospital, but I feared Jackson and his family would have caused a scene if I’d brought him.

He’s going to be okay,
I answer.
He’s got Celiac Disease.

My aunt has that.

Though Andrés has a huge family, I remember at the last family barbeque one of his many aunts had special food prepared just for her. If fact, most of the dinner was gluten free; although, I didn’t notice a difference. The women in Andrés’s family sure can cook. Their food is so delicious, it’s like an art form, and since I have such a high appreciation of the arts, I remember having a second helping of tamales and those little powdery cookies.

My mouth waters, and my stomach growls, protesting the fact I hadn’t had a chance to eat lunch or dinner today. 

How are you doing?
Andrés asks me.

It’s stressful,
I answer, but I don’t elaborate. It’s hard enough worrying over Tyler, then add in all the drama from Karri and my ex’s family, it’s a wonder I’m still sane.

Need me to come up?

Yes and no,
I think. God, I need him so badly. He’s been my rock these past six months, helping me work through some tough times. When he’s holding me in his strong embrace, all of my troubles seem so insignificant. I wish he could hold me now.
No, please go home,
I reluctantly write back.
Mrs. Peterson will give me a ride.