Chapter 5 - The Room with the Yellow Light
Room 712 was quiet except for the rhythmic, soft thrum of the IV pump and the low monitor hum displaying Claire’s heart rate: sixty-four beats per minute, regular but thin.
The room was lit only by a warm yellow lamp on the bedside table.
Claire lay under two thick white blankets, her body so small beneath the cotton sheets that she looked like a young girl. Her right hand was taped to a wooden board to keep the IV line steady; her left hand rested over her lower belly, where the fetal monitor belt was wrapped around her middle.
Sebastian moved a heavy vinyl chair close to the edge of the bed and sat down. He did not touch her immediately, afraid that even the weight of his hand might hurt her paper-thin skin.
After a few minutes, Claire’s eyelids fluttered open.
She looked at the ceiling, then slowly turned her head toward him. The yellow light showed the blue shadows under her cheekbones and the small, cracked lines on her lower lip.
“Seb?” her voice was a breath of dry air.
“I’m here,” he said. He reached out and carefully laid two fingers across the top of her left wrist, feeling the small, rapid flutter of her pulse.
“Is... is Margaret here?” she asked. Her eyes darted toward the corner of the room, near the closed bathroom door.
“No,” Sebastian said. “No one is here except me. You’re at the university hospital. Dr. Miller is looking after you.”
Claire’s fingers moved slightly under his. “The presentation... the board meeting... did you sign the contract?”
Sebastian let out a short, wet sound that was half a laugh and half a sob. He leaned forward until his forehead rested against the edge of the mattress near her hand.
“The deal doesn't matter, Claire,” he said. “Nothing matters. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Claire was silent for a long time. The IV pump gave a small, rhythmic beep-beep-beep as it metered the clear fluid into her vein.
“She told me... she told me Ryan was dying,” Claire whispered.
Sebastian raised his head. “You knew about Ryan?”
Claire nodded very slowly, her head moving half an inch against the white pillow.
“She came to my room... two months ago,” Claire said, her voice dropping into a raspy monotone. “She showed me the letters from the clinic in Switzerland. She said... she said if I didn't take the extra medicine Dr. Vance brought, the baby wouldn't be... wouldn't be strong enough to give Ryan what he needed.”
“She lied to you, Claire,” Sebastian said, his voice shaking with a rage he could barely contain. “She was killing you.”
“I knew... I knew the medicine was bad,” Claire whispered. Her eyes filled with large, heavy tears that ran sideways down her temples into her hair. “Every time he gave me the injection... my head felt like it was full of wet wool. I couldn't remember what day it was. I couldn't... I couldn't hold a spoon.”
She looked down at her stomach under the blanket.
“But she said... if I didn't stay under the table when her friends came... she’d tell you I was crazy. She said you’d have me put away in the county ward... and take the boy away as soon as he was cut out of me.”
Sebastian took her small, cold hand in both of his palms and pressed it against his cheek.
“No one is taking him,” Sebastian said. “No one is taking you. I have six guards outside that door. I have the best lawyers in the state filing emergency injunctions right now. It’s over, Claire. It’s completely over.”
Claire closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed down, becoming long and shallow as the pain medication took hold again.
“He’s kicking, Seb,” she whispered just before she drifted back to sleep. “He’s... he’s small... but he’s still kicking.”
Sebastian laid his hand gently over hers, resting his palm against the hard curve of her stomach.
May you like
Through the thin blanket, through the cold skin and the bruised tissue, he felt it: a tiny, rhythmic knock against his palm. A quick, stubborn double-tap from inside the dark.
Sebastian closed his eyes and held his hand there until the clock on the wall read six in the evening.
