I’d gone over there sick with guilt for not telling her about Stella. She’s a fucking good actress. She looked me straight in the eye and told me she loved me. She must have had a good laugh when I left.
Fuck her.
My humiliation deepens as I play back this summer. And how pathetic she must think I am. All she had to do was listen, pretend to understand what it was like to feel out of place in the spaces everyone says you belong in.
I can’t believe I told her all of that. I think about calling her, cussing her out, and telling her just what I think about her.
I won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she hurt me. But when I perform on national television next week, she’ll understand without any doubt I’m done with her.
Beth
Choice
Three months later
Pain wakes me up, but I can’t open my eyes. I’m trying to blink but my eyelids are too heavy. When I lift my arm something tugs at my skin. I gasp, noticing my mouth is dry and sticky and something metallic and bitter is on my tongue.
“She’s waking up.”
I turn my head toward the feminine voice and manage to open my eyes enough to see the silhouette of two people standing beside me. I open my eyes all the way and realize I’m in a hospital room.
I lift my arm and stare in confusion at the IV that’s attached to it. I follow the line up to a bag hanging from a stand beside my bed.
“Beth, can you hear me?” I turn back toward the voice and groan in understanding.
My vision is clearing, and I can see a young, brown skinned woman with kind brown eyes and a wide, encouraging smile leaning over my bed. I nod in answer.
“I’m Doctor Appiah. I’m an obstetrician at The Women’s Hospital in Austin.”
“Okay. What happened?” I ask. My voice is raspy, and my throat is sore.
“You were in a car accident”
I close my eyes and groan.
“Do you remember what happened?”
I shake my head. The last thing I remember is driving to see my aunt, I remember my stomach starting to hurt. “I had a stomachache.”
She nods. “I bet. That must have been why you lost control of your car.”
“I did?” My voice breaks, and a dry cough rattles my chest.
“Let’s get you some water.” She glances around the room and frowns. “You should have a cup in here already. Let me go ask at the nurses station.”
When she steps away from the bed, my father comes into view. He’s sitting in a chair against the wall, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs, his fingers steepled under his chin. He’s dressed in a dark grey suit, like he’d come straight from the office. He’s staring straight ahead, his eyes wide like he’s looking at something he can’t quite believe he’s seeing.
Since Bethany died, the only look I’ve seen in his eyes has been cold detachment. I’d forgotten how vibrant his blue eyes are without the frost.
“Daddy?”
He blinks, and his eyes move to mine. The wrath that fills his gaze when he looks at me makes my heart skip a beat. He doesn’t say a word, but the message he’s sending is loud and clear.
Whatever put me in this hospital bed should be the least of my worries.
I look away from him and slide my hand over my abdomen and wince when my fingers brush my belly button. Alarmed I feel around the tender area and realize it’s bandaged.
The doctor walks back in, cup in hand. “Sorry it took so long, I—”
“What happened? Did I have surgery?” I reach up to touch the spot on my face that feels like it’s frozen and gasp when I feel a thick bandage on my left cheek. "What’s wrong with my face?”
Her expression grows somber. "Your windshield shattered, and some of the glass cut your face. Our plastic surgeon did a good job, but it will leave a scar.”
“And what about my stomach. Did glass cut me there, too?”
The sympathy that fills her eyes terrifies me. “Please, tell me."
She takes my hand and leans over me. “Beth, did you know you were pregnant?”
I jerk my hand out of hers and press my back into the bed, as the most terrible pressure builds in my chest. I shake my head and tears spill down my cheeks.
“I’m so sorry you’re finding out this way, I know it must be completely disorienting. We have a great team of