Happily Ever After? Chapter 4

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A health crisis sends Sam to the hospital. A frantic Joan attempts to make sense of it all.

Our Family

Chapter 4

Different Drum

I’m not even sure how I got there, but I found myself standing outside the Peters’ front door with my key in my hand. It’s funny, but I don’t think I’ll ever consider myself a "Peters." Ironically, it wasn’t really Sam’s last name either, if the intention had been to give him the last name of his biological father.

It was just after ten o’clock as I entered the front door. The house was dark. Was Sam even at home? My fear had been growing deep inside of me all evening. It attacked my heart as a fatal illness would. I slowly ascended the stairs sinking further into the depths with each step. I almost found myself wishing that he wasn’t there. I had no idea what to say to him. Could we simply laugh it off as if it were some kind of joke? My babies!

Feelings of helplessness surrounded me as I stood in the hall outside his closed bedroom door. I stood there unable to act. I placed my hand on the doorknob and froze. I had no idea what to say to him. I did my best to convince myself that my only concern at that point was the health of the twins. Somehow, knowing that made it easier for me to open the door and step inside.

He wasn’t there! I went into immediate panic mode thinking something horrible must have happened. I simply wanted to curl up in his bed and hug my teddy bears till their stuffing came out. I found myself running, stumbling for the front door. Home was where I needed to be. It took me a minute to extricate my key from my purse and make my way inside. Thankfully, Aunt Melissa was home.

"Auntie M? Have you heard from Sam?" I asked as the tears began flowing down my face. She jumped off the couch and ran to embrace me. Her sudden actions made me worry all the more. "Is he all right?" I asked with more than a bit of urgency in my voice.

She shushed me and told me not to worry. It seems Sam did indeed have a bit of spotting and had been rushed to the hospital. All of my fears assaulted me and I collapsed in her arms. "My babies!" I heard myself screaming.

"There there Joan, everything’s going to be alright," she said paternalistically. "Don’t worry, the twins are fine. I just got off the phone with your mother before you came in the front door. Shall we head to the hospital so you can see for yourself?"

I found myself filled with anger for Sam and his cavalier attitude as I ran to the front door waiting for Aunt Melissa to follow. She came quickly and we made our way to the hospital. I found myself begging a god I’d never believed in for the safety of my unborn children. We drove on in silence.

Aunt Melissa offered to drop me off by the emergency room entrance, but I didn’t want to go in there alone. She parked the car and held my hand tightly as we headed inside. I was too numb to speak and Auntie M took care of finding out just where Sam was. He’d been admitted for observation. I tried to rein myself in as I felt about ready to explode. Aunt Melissa hugged me tight before we entered the room and begged me to put my anger aside. She explained that if I cared anything at all for my children, that I shouldn’t take it out on the person in charge of their care.

It took awhile, but I finally did calm down. We entered the room where Aunt Alice and Mom were attending Sam and seeing to his every need. Sam seemed to be in high spirits making me angrier still. Was he somehow hoping to lose the babies? How could something that caused me such intense agony have no effect on him at all?

"Sam!" I exclaimed as I ran to his side. All other thoughts were quickly swept away as I hugged him tight. "Are you OK?" I asked, though my concerns were more for the twins than his own well-being. I felt myself a horrible person for even entertaining such thoughts. He looked up at me calmly before replying. Still, I realized my concerns were really one and the same. Sam and the twins were inexorably linked.

"Relax Joan, the babies are fine." He knew! He somehow knew that I was more concerned about the twins than I was about Sam himself. I felt so guilty; dirty, inferior, not worthy of his love at all. I was completely and utterly ashamed. I began wailing uncontrollably. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. I found it more difficult to breathe with each inhaled breath. The last thing I remembered was the look of concern on Sam’s face as everything went blank in front of me.

From a distance a voice called to me. "Joan, wake up!" I felt my head being gently shaken from side to side as the words were repeated. I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to remain in hiding. Hoping it would all just go away. More than anything I hated that I had absolutely no control of everything going on around me. Maybe by remaining in this semi-comatose state Sam would begin to see the seriousness of his actions. I felt totally helpless.

"Joan, PLEASE!" a voice screamed. It was Sam’s voice. Remembering the talk I’d had with Aunt Melissa, I knew it would do no good to upset him any more than he already was. With all the strength that I had I slowly forced my eyes open. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. I still felt overwhelmed and helpless. I needed to be strong for Sam, for my babies, but wasn’t sure I had anything left to give. I just knew that if he loved us, he’d give up the game (for now) that he seemed to love more than life itself. I really needed to talk to Aunt Vivian. Maybe she could help me find a way to get through that stubborn exterior of his.

"Sam!" I screamed as I continued sobbing. I was brain-locked. Completely unsure of what to say next. Seconds ticked away and I found that I wasn’t really sure as to his emotional state at all. Perhaps his seemingly jovial mood earlier had simply been a front; a way to protect himself from all that was going on. Not knowing what else to do, I simply uttered the one safe phrase that I knew that I knew by heart.. "Sam, I love you so!"

My stomach began churning as I fought back every impulse within me to beg him to take better care. He began weeping harder as he strengthened his embrace. "I’m so sorry Joan. I’ll give up baseball if you want me to." Did he really mean that? Was he just saying that to get me to calm down? Could he forgo his dream for just this little while? Would it be fair of me to ask him to?

I had no answers to any of those questions. I did know that the simple fact that he’d say those words meant more to me than anything anyone else could have said or done. I did my best to compose myself before replying. "Sam, it’s not what I want. I know how much pitching means to you. I know how good you are and finally having the chance to show the rest of the world that there’s nothing you’d rather do. I don’t want you to give up the game if it means you’re going to wind up hating me and the twins. It’s going to kill me to watch you take the mound again, but if the Doctor says it’s ok, then ok it is."

I really hadn’t intended to give him an out like that. My heart wanted to simply lay down the law. I felt this growing sense of worry deep within me. I found myself hoping that Dr. Feingold would tell Sam that it would be in the best interests of the babies if he waited till next season to continue chasing his dream. Would Sam ever be able to forgive me my thoughts? Could I hide them from him? It was very late on a Saturday evening when Dr. Feingold herself walked through the door.

I studied her face carefully, looking for signs of an ally or an enemy. Her expression was unreadable. "Well Sam, I’ve been all over your charts and it looks like everything’s fine. I’m not so sure you should be pitching anymore this season though." A huge sigh of relief escaped me. I knew I’d never be able to hide my true feelings. I began looking to Mom and Aunt Alice for support. Sam couldn’t pitch without Aunt Alice’s permission, or maybe he could, but I knew that he wouldn’t.

"Dr. Feingold, thanks for coming so late on a Saturday. Is he really ok?" I asked. She looked at me strangely for a moment before grasping my meaning.

"Yes, Joan, is it? As I said, I’ve reviewed all of Sam’s records and "he" seems to be doing fine. And, by that I mean the babies are doing fine as well." I could tell she felt uncomfortable referring to the fetuses as babies, but it set my mind at ease. "Sam, before you even think about playing baseball again, you’re going to have to be checked by me. I’ll decide before your next pitching assignment whether or not you’re fit for duty."

I began to take slow, even breaths. Thank God! The babies were alright. Now I needed to figure out how to deal with Sam. Could I find the way to make sure he understood the consequences of his actions? I began to feel an overpowering need for sleep. I kissed Sam gently on the forehead and curled up in a ball on the vacant bed next to his own. Within moments I was sound asleep.

Sunday morning I was awakened unintentionally by a pair of nurses that came in to check on Sam’s condition. It took me a few moments to realize just where I was. I looked over at Sam and watched him as he slept peacefully. Even the nurses’ actions tending to him didn’t rouse him. My anger rose just a bit as I considered how foolish the reason for us being here was. This whole thing shouldn’t have happened.

I was glad that he was sleeping soundly. To me that meant that he’d accepted the Doctor’s words the night before. Though I’d not yet heard the story, I was beyond glad that Sam had told someone that he was spotting. In a way that showed some sense of responsibility. He didn’t just ignore it. What was I supposed to do now? Should I simply be the loving, supporting wife, or should I take a more aggressive stand? I had no clue how to proceed.

I got up off the bed, went and took a quick shower. The mere water droplets reminded me of a fresh spring rain washing me clean. My worries slowly began to lessen. I got dressed, grabbed my hand bag and did what I could with the makeup that I was never without anymore. I pulled a chair up next to his bed, sat down and took one of his hands in my own. I squeezed gently. Just hard enough to let him know that I was there.

I silently waved the aide away when she came in with his breakfast. I knew that sleep was more important at this point than being awakened for some dreadful hospital food. I sat there drifting in and out of consciousness as Sam continued to sleep. Finally, around one o’clock he awoke with a start. Pretty much the same way that I had hours earlier.

"Joan, what are we doing here?" he asked seriously. Without missing a beat I gently explained all that had happened the night before. He reacted as though he were hearing it all for the first time. I told him that Dr. Feingold would be in this afternoon to check him out again. It was then that I remembered a scheduled band practice for the afternoon. I really hated the idea of missing it, but if I was expecting Sam to consider giving up baseball, then I had to be ready to do the same. I told Sam that I’d be back in a little bit and went to find a pay phone to call Darla.

She seemed both upset and understanding as I told her that I’d be unable to make it to band practice. She went on to tell me to call her when I got home. I was concerned about my place in the band, but nothing was more important than Sam and the twins. I thanked her for her support and we said our goodbyes.

I found my way back to the room and Sam had taken it on his own to shower. I wasn’t sure that he was even supposed to be out of bed. I started worrying all over again. Was I going to be an emotional wreck for the next seven months? I did my best to calm down, took a seat and waited for him to finish up. He was taking a very un-Sam-like shower. Usually he was in and out of there in five minutes time. I finally got up and went in to check on him. He was fine.

I had to find some way to put a check on my emotions. I wasn’t his mother. Having missed both breakfast and lunch, I asked him if I could get him something to eat. I made my way down to the cafeteria and bought him the cheeseburger that he requested. I also got him the garden salad and an iced tea. I was going to make sure he ate the salad before he had a bite of that burger. Perhaps I was turning into his mother?

I found myself wondering just where the parents were when they burst into the room all smiles and hugs. Dr. Feingold came in around three and asked us to please leave the room so she could examine the patient. The four of us left the room cooperatively and waited expectantly for the doctor’s prognosis. It wasn’t long before she beckoned us back inside. The doctor pronounced Sam "fit as a fiddle" and told him it was time to go home. Once again I heaved a sigh of relief.

Aunt Alice signed the patient out and an aide wheeled him to the door. He tried several times to get up and walk when I told him as sternly as I knew how to simply sit there and enjoy the ride. I really didn’t want to be his mother. The ride home was uneventful. I got Sam up to his room and into bed. I began doing laundry and wistfully thought about my friends. I found myself worrying that even now they were making plans to replace me.

I absolutely wasn’t in the mood to be there. Let them do their own damned laundry, cook their own dinners and take care of themselves. For Christ’s sake! These weren’t children here. OK, perhaps Sam needed a bit of extra attention given the situation. I knew that I just had to get away or I was going to explode. I told Aunt Alice I was going for a walk and without any further ado, I headed for the boardwalk.

I bought myself a hot dog and sat down on a bench to eat it as I watched the care-free vacationers enjoy this glorious Sunday evening. Life shouldn’t be this hard. A few months ago my biggest worry had been that Mom might make pork chops for dinner. I began to feel that I was spending way too much time feeling sorry for myself. How was I going to stop doing that? I took my pills and washed them down with the last bit of soda. I carefully applied a fresh coat of red lipstick to my lips and stared seductively out at the world in front of me.

I flipped the back of the bench the other way, lit a cigarette and became lost in the vastness of the Atlantic before me. I knew I had to take charge of things, but how? Although I knew what I had to do, I really just wanted to go home, go up to my room, climb into my bed and hug my stuffed animals till I fell asleep. I slowly shook myself out of my reverie. Harboring such thoughts wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

I went and ordered a large pepperoni pizza and slowly made my way to Sam’s. As I walked I remembered the last time I’d done this exact same thing. He’d told me he was injured yet had gone out with the boys. If he wasn’t home this time then all bets were off. As impossible as it seemed, I decided before opening the door that if he wasn’t there, if he refused to cooperate, I was done with him. A certain hardness embraced my being as I made my way to the kitchen. Aunt Alice was nowhere to be found as I placed the entire pizza, box and all in the oven. I put the oven on warm and made my way up to Sam’s bedroom. I’d simply never get used to referring to that room as "our" bedroom.

I needn’t have gotten myself so worked up. Sam was all curled up on the bed and sleeping peacefully. I gently crawled under the covers and spooned him from behind. His arm grabbed me tight as I wrapped my own around him. Mere physical contact set my mind at ease. "Sam, are you hungry?" I asked gently.

He rolled over and stared deep into my eyes. He began apologizing yet again. He told me that nothing was more important to him than me and the babies. I melted at his touch and his words. Somehow, we’d find our way through this. "I brought you your favorite, it’s in the oven keeping warm. Would you like me to bring it up to you, or would you rather come downstairs?" He smiled at me warmly and told me he’d be right down. For the first time that day I felt myself calming down.

We sat at the kitchen table and slowly devoured the pie. I couldn’t think of anything else to say to him. That is, I was afraid to say anything; afraid that my anger would once again rear its head. I smiled at him and watched him eat. He slowly seemed to be returning to his normal self. After I cleaned up and put everything away, I slowly ushered him back to bed. He made one last attempt to apologize but I shushed him with a kiss.

It felt good lying there in bed with my body pressed up against his own. I slowly drifted off with my arm and leg wrapped around him. We were in this together and would see it through to the end.

Monday morning finally arrived and I woke up feeling refreshed. I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to remember the last time I’d awakened feeling so positive about everything. It had been awhile. I took a shower, put on some clothes and made my way down to the kitchen. Aunt Alice was sitting at the table drinking coffee and smoking. I was tempted to tell her that smoking wasn’t allowed inside and quickly remembered that I was a guest in her home. My earlier sense of well being vanished in a heartbeat.

I guessed she was dealing with demons of her own. The look I read on her face told me that it was all my fault that things had turned out this way. My attempts at turning her home into someplace where people might actually want to live seemed to simply piss her off. I needed to be with Sam. If the safety of the twins hadn’t been my primary concern, I’d have been gone.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, lit a cigarette and attempted to engage her in conversation. I was wasting my time. My status here had been reduced from a guest who’d overstayed her welcome to that of an insect in need of extermination. Was I imagining all this? She ignored my first attempt to speak to her. I thought for a moment that perhaps she hadn’t heard me. I tried again. The result was the same. I gave up.

I stood up and took my coffee into the backyard. Everything seemed peaceful and perfect outside. The birds were chirping, the wind sang her wondrous song, and the scent of the ocean surrounded me. After a time I returned to the kitchen. Aunt Alice had left the building. All that remained was her coffee cup sitting next to the sink and a filthy ashtray on the kitchen table.

For a moment I took it personally. I thought she was doing this to piss me off, make me uncomfortable. Then I realized that she was probably just doing what she always did. My presence had no effect on her behavior one way or the other. I knew I couldn’t stay under her roof much longer. At this point I began to wonder if I’d make it till Aunt Melissa headed back home. I found myself running for my own front door.

Shandy greeted me joyously. Her look suggested that she missed me. Perhaps that was a mere reflection from my own eyes. I hugged her tight and rubbed her coat lovingly. She rolled over on her back with her paws straight in the air and wagged her tail incessantly as I continued to caress her. The house was empty as the kitchen clock neared ten.

I took out my list of prospects and began making phone calls. By noon I’d lined up seven jobs for the week. It seemed to be getting easier all the time. My reputation as a fast and reliable painter had been growing and Mr. Hospin’s kind words of recommendation aided me in my quest.

Finally, I made my way back across the street. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table eating a leftover slice of cold pizza.. I smiled at him and grabbed one for myself. So, this was what married life was all about, I thought and laughed derisively. The love in Sam’s eyes washed over me from across the table. He hadn’t a clue as to the turmoil that tore at my being. I finished my food and told him I had to get to work. It wasn’t a lie...

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Comments

Joan is Finally Changing

... and beginning to take charge of things - starting with herself. She had steeled herself up, determined if Sam didn't change - she would be through with him. That change in turn is causing other ripple effects others may or may not like. The babies health is neccesitating Sam not playing baseball, Aunt Alice may have to give up smoking in her house for them (or at least Sam will have to move out and stay out until she does), and things in general are starting to turn for the better. That includes Sam "himself" changing his attitude, amazing.

I for one am glad to see the positive changes occurring. With the plot beginning to develop and characters actually coming around to their senses at last - I'm beginning to enjoy this series once again like I did in the beginning and am anxiously looking forward to the next chapter Darla.

*Hugs*

Sephrena Lynn Miller