Charthur: Part II

Susan and Adelaide had taken their own route to search, starting around Salem. They’d even checked Metric Academy, though unsurprisingly, that had yielded no success. They’d only gotten in contact with Arthur a few times -- Susan knew from each time that he was starting to go crazy. She felt worried for his sake, for Chardonnay’s sake, and for Olivia’s.

If Arthur was this worried, did he know things neither she nor Olivia knew about Chardonnay’s mental state?

When Olivia called, saying they should involve the police, she forlornly nodded.

”I -- I think that makes sense,” she said slowly. She had hoped they’d find her, that she’d be fine after a little space. Involving the police seemed to solidify the fact that something was wrong.

”Yeah. I can get Arthur in a group call, just stay on the line.” Susan said, pulling her smartphone from her ear and pulling up Arthur’s contact information.

-

Arthur gave the woman behind the counter an irritated glare, before he looked away, knowing it wasn’t her fault, that Chardonnay had just come in. That didn’t make this any easier. That didn’t stop his heart from pounding in his chest, or his shoulders from shaking. Slowly he left the desk and walked towards the waiting area, choosing a chair that wasn’t closer to anyone.

He didn’t know how much time passed while he was waiting for news, drowning in his thoughts and anxieties the more time that passed. He gripped his head with a force that almost pulled out all his hair, his shoulders shaking. Distantly, he heard his phone ring, seeing his sister’s name on the called ID.

His sister. Who was also looking for Chardonnay. How could he have forgotten to call her?

He answered on the third ring.

”Arthur! You’re on a three way call with Olivia and I,” she said, and Arthur knew that if she wasn’t so serious she’d have made some stupid joke to go with that comment. But she didn’t. ”We were thinking we should --”

”She’s, uhm, I found her.” Arthur said, ”I guess she tried to go to a hotel and she passed out. She’s at the hospital, the same one she goes to for appointments.”

There was a gasp from Susan, as he explained. ”Sorry i didn’t call, Uh, i just got here, I… you should probably come down too. Especially Olivia.” he said. ”i’m wait to hear if she’s okay.”

”Oh my God, i’m on my way. It’s going to take me an hour.” Susan said, ”Do you know how long it’s been?”

There was silence thick and heavy, and Susan knew Arthur was just zoning out. ”Arthur. Breathe.”

”I don’t know.” he groaned, sounding defeated. ”I just want to see her.”

”I wish I could,” Arthur said to Olivia, his fingers pinching his nose as he hunched over in the chair. He hated the hospital. The ticking of the clock, the wheeling of wheelchairs, the smell. He could hear steady beeps coming from down the hall and occasionally the patients in the room with him would be called up. He remained where he was, eyes dull and unfocused.

His grip on the phone tightened, but shortly after, he saw Dr. Marshall. arthur sat up, a desperation in his eyes when he looked at the guy.

When the doctor said she was okay, that the baby was okay, he let out a breath. ”She’s okay,” he said, ”I’m going to see her.”

After giving Susan and Olivia the name and address of the hospital he was at, Arthur stood up. The fact Dr. Marshall had to run tests didn’t even matter to him. He ran down the hall — ignoring the look the receptionist gave him — and counted down the numbers.

He was pissed. So fucking pissed. He went over what he wanted to say. He wanted to give her a fucking piece of his mind for ignoring him, for not seeking out help, for winding up in a hospital when all she had to do was ask for assistance.

When he got to her room, he froze outside of it. He opened the door, stepping in. He saw a woman sitting up, looking like a tired, worn out mess. His words caught in his throat. ”...Chardonnay?”

When he stood in the doorway, looking at the woman in the bed by the window, he wanted to think it wasn’t her for a second. She looked disheveled, wrong in a hospital gown, so unlike herself. When she turned around he could see her face, twisted into agony. He rarely saw her composure break. She never let it show. She was so closed off to him, she never let him in, which was all he ever wanted.

He had earlier wanted to yell at her for this — for being so dramatic, for making him go crazy with worry, for making him think she’d killed herself or that she’d try. He could hear the sound of the baby’s heartbeat, alive. And Chardonnay’s eyes, looking at him, not framed anymore with makeup or masked with pride.

He almost tripped over himself to get to her bedside and paid no attention to the chair, instead, he knelt down beside the bed and reached over to pull her into his arms.

”You’re alive,” he choked out, his own eyes warm and threatening to spill out. He didn’t care about how uncomfortable being in this position was, he only paid attention to the needles and IVs inside of her so he didn’t jostle them. He could smell her, feel her hair in his fingers that were splayed behind her. ”I — I — It doesn’t matter if you did. All I care about is that you’re alive.

He clung to her, his head in her shoulder. He heard her cry, and hated how miserable he knew she was. His voice cracked as he spoke again. ”Jesus Christ, you gave me a heart attack.”

Arthur kept his hold tight on Chardonnay, his fingers rubbing slight circles on her skin. She was usually so cold and aloof but in his arms she seemed more fragile and vulnerable than he’d ever seen her. And when she spoke, she apologized for hurting her. Their daughter. Despite the situation, despite how exhausting this whole thing was, he felt a swell of warmth at the thought that she did care. Somewhere.

At her apologies he felt the tears begin to fall down his cheeks, one at a time. He hated not knowing how she felt but seeing the consequences of her bottling it up made it so much worse.

”It’s okay. You’re safe, she’s safe, too. And i’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.” Arthur said. He wanted to protect the both of them. He could only picture how this visit could have gone worse — somehow she could’ve lost the baby, Chardonnay could have hurt herself.

When she pulled him closer he obliged and moved closer even though he could feel the edge of the bed squishing his thighs, even though he could still hear the distant chatter of people in the hallway. In his haste he’d left the door half open, but that didn’t register to him even now. ”You’re safe,” he repeated softly, though whether that was to assure Chardonnay or himself was unclear.

Arthur didn’t say anything more, he just continued to rub soothing shapes into Chardonnay’s back, holding her tight against his chest. He didn’t care that his knees were begging him to shift and grab the chair. He squeezed his eyes shut and just held her while she cried, thankful she was just there. In his arms. Not dead, not bleeding out, not at the bottom of a lake or in a car wreck.

He couldn’t have stomached it if he lost not only his unborn child but her as well; he couldn’t bear to think about that possibility so instead he squeezed her tightly. The baby’s heartbeat was a soothing mantra. Unconsciously, one of his hands that was wrapped around Chardonnay slid to caress her stomach, softly. A way of comforting not only Chardonnay, but the developing child inside of her.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before Dr. Marshall came into the room. Arthur looked up, though he knew Chardonnay hadn’t from the way she kept her position, her face buried in his shoulder. Arthur’s one hand was wrapped around her waist and the other, across her back. Judging by the look on Dr. Marshall’s face, this didn’t look good, and Arthur’s eyes widened. Protectively, he squeezed Chardonnay’s shoulder, as though whatever the doctor was going to say could be fought with his fists alone.

When he mentioned she’d developed preeclampsia, Arthur’s throat went dry. Initially, he’d done a little research on it, enough to equate himself with the possibility since Chardonnay was high-risk. He didn’t want to think about life threatening, but they had no choice.

”Okay. How do we treat it?” Arthur said, doing his best to control his voice despite the fear he felt. Could be life threatening. Arthur didn’t want to lose Chardonnay or the baby. Despite the evenness of his tone, the slight tremor in his jaw betrayed his worry. ”More monitoring? A different medicine or more regular visits here? As long as we monitor it, it should be fine, right?”

He felt guilty. He should’ve known Susan and Olivia were planning something – something that likely made Chardonnay’s blood pressure skyrocket. He looked down at the mousy mess of brown hair on his shoulder. His gaze softened for a second, and he didn’t bother to try and find the chair that had – in his haste to get to Chardonnay’s side – rolled a few feet away. He glanced back at Dr. Marshall, expectantly.

Arthur wished there was some cure or some way to prevent this. But, if it didn’t go away until she gave birth, then they’d still have months of worry to deal with this. Potential seizures, or cardiac arrest... he didn’t want to deal with that. He didn’t want her to have to deal with that and he couldn’t stomach the thought of having to lose her that way.

But, this condition had already developed. They couldn’t change that. He held Chardonnay closer, feeling as her body continued to shake. He glanced to Dr. Marshall as he spoke and felt awful he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know, because she hadn’t told him. Had he known he could have helped maintain her health, so they weren’t in this position.

He glanced at her when Dr. Marshall mentioned her not eating. Her, skipping meals? Arthur felt guilty he didn’t know that. He didn’t know she wasn’t eating properly, or that her health was so bad. Because she was so distant… no. He couldn’t blame her. He should have been more direct. He should’ve forced himself to notice and be there even if she wasn’t happy about it. If it meant her life, or her being annoyed at him, he’d always choose the former.

Instead of responding properly Chardonnay continued to protest, her words a mumble against the skin of his neck where her mouth was pressed. He looked at her, flinching when Dr. Marshall said she could have died. It had been that serious? Of course it had, and he… god, he should’ve been able to figure it out.

Arthur felt eyes on him and looked at Dr. Marshall, who couldn’t coax an answer out of Chardonnay. Slowly, Arthur shifted. He kept one hand on Chardonnay’s shoulder, and gently pulled her back. He hated the sudden coolness of his skin where her face no longer rested, and he could feel the tearstains on his shoulder. He pulled Chardonnay away from him but didn’t pull her too far, and kept his face close to hers. He looked into her eyes – which were still flowing with tears and red. That sight softened his gaze more, it just made him want to pull her back into a hug, but he knew he had to get her to talk.

”We’re going to make this better, okay? We’re going to make this work. That baby’s going to be healthy and so are you.” He moved his hand to her cheek, to brush away some of the tears. ”It’s okay to be weak, it’s okay that you’re not sure what to do. That’s why we need to get help. That’s why you need to let me help you,” He didn’t look away from her eyes as he spoke, desperate. ”Tell me what’s going on. Please. I want to help you.”

Arthur waited for her to give a response. She didn’t want to meet his gaze at first, and though she moved her arms from him, he didn’t remove his hold on her shoulder. Dr. Marshall’s words, that this wasn’t uncommon, gave Arthur a little start though. He’d not really heard much about this sort of thing being common – though, the only experience he’d had with pregnant women was generally with upbeat women who wanted to get pregnant. He supposed, in unexpected situations, there was probably more of this than one might have thought.

He focused on Chardonnay, and finally she looked at him, right into his eyes. He blinked once, but didn’t pull away and kept his hands on her.

It wasn’t necessarily happy to hear her struggling, but he was relieved that she was finally admitting that she had a problem with this. He could hear Dr. Marshall writing things down, He was surprised to hear she was having dreams about the baby, too. He wondered if they were dreams, or nightmares.

”You don’t have to deal with it by yourself.” Arthur said, though he didn’t know how he specifically could help her. He couldn’t force her to eat, he couldn’t force her body to sleep. But he’d do anything he could to make sure she was okay. He’d stay with her for weeks if he had to, he’d hold her in his arms until she was comfortable to sleep or monitor her meals.

He lifted his hand again to wipe some of the tears from her cheeks, his forehead nearly close enough to touch hers. ”What are your dreams about?” He asked.