Chapter 85 – The Fallout
[Trigger warning: mentions of suicide, abortion, and depression. Please skip if you feel uncomfortable.]
Fallon.
“It’s been two days since he woke up.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, watching Sebby’s sleeping form. His parched lips remained shut and his under-eye bags the darkest they’ve ever been; he’s not getting any better.
From beside me, Matt continued, “Michael is worried at home. I couldn’t keep it from him anymore. Sebby…his condition isn’t looking good.”
“I know.” My voice was barely audible. “The doctors are doing the best they can to figure out what’s happening to him. He’ll be better in no time. I’m sure.”
“Jess…” he trailed off and sighed. “We knew this was not a common cold. And… we knew this was coming. He always had a weak immune system and sporadic breath shortages. Let’s tell the doctors, Jess.”
I sharply turned to him, irritated. “Tell them what?”
He softly stared at me, despite my narrowed eyes. He quietly answered.
“Tell them… your attempt to abort Sebby. And your depression when you were pregnant.”
Silence. I was stunned, looking at him, for even thinking about it. “Are you crazy? Matt, what the fuck?”
“It will help with their research, Jess.” His resolute eyes met my stunned ones. “They would know Sebby’s grip loosened and his development was weakened because of your depression. They’ll—”
“Matt, listen to me,” I cut him off abruptly and unfolded my arms. “I am clinically diagnosed with a mental illness and I am a single parent. They’ll think I’m a horrible mother. And what will they do? They will take me away from Sebby. All these years, Matt, I worked hard to keep Sebastian and me alive and healthy. Fine, I admit, I did attempt to abort him but that was at the cost of ending my own life! But now, I’m better. Alright? I don’t want to hear you mention this again, else we’ll both regret it.” My stern eyes represented my steel will. I wanted him to know I’m determined to keep this between us. My dark past cannot influence my present.
This is only an obstacle.
Sebby and I will get past it—like we always do.
That day, Matt gave up on the topic. But he was still wary around me; it was understandable. The dreaded day came merely two days later. It was a peaceful Sunday morning when Sebby’s doctor called me to her office.
Hand in hand, Jett and I entered the office. Sebby was left with a nurse while we met with the doctor. She looked up from her pile of paperwork, greeting us with a somber smile. Her gaze went past me and to Jett who closed the door and then to our intertwined hands.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Danbury,” she greeted us. Jett glanced at me after hearing the foreign surname but nodded at the doctor anyway. “I believe it’s the first time I’m meeting Mr. Danbury. Hello, sir, I’m Dr. Anker, Sebastian Danbury’s doctor. I’m sorry to greet your mornings on this note, however, I have identified Sebastian’s illness.”
I leaned back on the seat. “Please continue,” I urged her, acting calm and composed. Jett was quiet on the seat beside me.
Dr. Anker heavily exhaled and fixed her glasses, glancing down at her paperwork. “It’s pneumonia.”
It was a word I was familiar with hearing, but for some reason, it sounded foreign to me now. Pneumonia. Such a simple word for such a big thing.
“I confirmed it when he coughed and vomited mucus as soon as he woke up two days ago, but I still needed more credible proof. After all, pneumonia is not an illness I could casually diagnose. The following days, he had diarrhea, yes? And his fever wouldn’t go away, too. Mrs. Danbury has explained to me that Sebastian was born with a weak immune system and he often had problems with his lungs, easily running out of breath, and the like. These are symptoms of pneumonia,” she explained thoroughly. She paused and expectantly looked at the two of us. “Do you have… any questions so far?”
“Pneumonia… an infection in the lungs?” Jett found his voice first. No matter how composed he seemed, I could hear the slight tremble in his voice. Dr. Anker nodded. “Have you run enough tests to locate the infection? His symptoms are not enough, we need the tests to confirm it.”
“You’re right, sir,” she agreed. “That is another reason why I called you in today: I need your permission to run more tests on Sebastian. Such as chest x-rays and blood tests, sputum culture tests—”
“We approve,” he cut her off. “We’ll pay for everything immediately, so please, do it all. And fast. The longer we wait, the more my son will suffer.”
Dr. Anker was quiet for a while, before nodding eagerly. She smiled. “It is a doctor’s pleasure to treat their patients quickly. I’m glad Mr. and Mrs. Danbury are very cooperative.”
Before we left, I sharply inhaled and turned to the doctor, Jett’s arms supporting the small of my back. We locked eyes as I intently said to her, “Takk for all helped så langt, doktor, og dette er bare en mors følelser, men jeg hyper sunken min lever et long liv han fortjener. Ellers tar jeg en manners levied for å kompensere.” (Thank you for all your help so far, Doctor. And this is merely a mother's sentiments, but, I hope my son lives a long life he deserves. Or else I'll be taking someone else's lifespan to compensate.)
Before I turned away, I saw how her lips parted in surprise and slowly all color left her face. I knew it was wrong to threaten a doctor, but I’m used to having things go my way, and I can’t let this fail at the cost of my son’s life. All she needs to do is to do a good job, now that my son’s life is in her hands. In the elevator, I felt intent eyes on me. I turned to him, who eyed me curiously like a cat.
“What did you tell her? She blanched like paper.”
I shook my head. “Nothing much. I just told her to do a good job if push comes to shove in Sebby’s condition. She must’ve taken it as a threat.”
A sly feline smile stretched on his face. “So you warned her,” he concluded and chuckled. “How’s she gonna do her job properly when you threatened her life?”
“You’d do the same…” I muttered under my breath. “Why pretend to be so kind?”
“I heard that,” he retorted. “I’d rather not resort to threats when they’re holding my son’s life in their hands, is that.”
He was right. Perhaps it was me being a bad mother, or I was just plain desperate. There was nothing much to it. I just want my Sebby to go home with me healthy and well. I want to continue to live out our simple, mundane lives. Was that too selfish?
---
Sebby proceeded with taking tests the next few days. I could not bear seeing him so weak and sick, and every time I’d lock eyes with him, I’d tear up. So it always ended up with Jett doing most of the work. I only came with the testing, to provide him my moral support. Every time Sebby would cough, my heart would throb and there was only so much I could witness in a day. Every day of my son weakening and bedridden, I grow weak.
So, this is how it feels, huh, being a mother? And seeing your child in pain? It’s as if our umbilical cord was still connected. We were still connected. But I could only feel a fraction of his pain. I knew… he was going through so much more.
“Mama…” he once cried to me, complaining of his chest pains. When he cried, he couldn’t breathe even more and we had to ask a nurse to clear his nose immediately. My heart is pained. My poor baby…
The day the tests came out, everyone was with Sebby. Jett, Matt, Lylia, Michael, Regine, and I anticipated the results. And it was as Dr. Anker told us.
Sebastian had pneumonia.
My son.
A stray tear raced to my cheeks as I pulled him in for a hug. He did not know what was happening because he was too young and that made it all the more painful for me. Was this my karma? Why on my son? Why, God?
Why can’t I suffer instead?
“He will still live, right?” asked Jett to Dr. Anker as I cradled my son in my arms. The others surrounded us, tearing up themselves.
“O-Of course,” the doctor stuttered as I felt her eyes on me. “We will do everything we can. I… We will prescribe you all the necessary antibiotics for now. Then, please, excuse me.”
“Hey, big guy,” Matt called Sebby. He carelessly looked up at him. “This is your first big fight. You better win, ‘kay?”
Lylia laughed in between her sniffles. Beside her was Michael, who looked up at Sebby from the side of the bed. He said, “I’ll call you a loser your entire life if you lose.”
“Me! Lose! No!” Sebby shouted in disbelief and repetitively shook his head. “Sebby no lose, all wins!”
“Yeah.” Matt nodded, ruffling his wavy brown hair. “When you win this fight, Uncle will buy you a biting bike.”
A small smile traced my lips. I caressed Sebby’s hair as they promised him various gifts once he ‘wins his fight’. Jett and I were quiet.
“Hey,” Regine called him. She stared, not understanding everything and only snippets because of Michael as her scuffed translator. Michael had whispered into her ear and she hesitated before continuing, “Get well soon.” She said with a thick Norwegian accent. Our eyes locked and I smiled fondly at her.
Sebby nodded. “I will!”
They stayed the whole day. The kids played the games Sebby could play in his bed, while the four of us watched them, sipping on our warm, instant coffee. Regine, like always, was quiet but it was obvious on her face that she was enjoying the time with the two. Michael would roughly translate for her, and whatever Sebby would say. The rest of the time, she would just copy what they do.
“Do we know when her grandparents are gonna come back?” Lylia asked, pertaining to Regine.
I answered without taking my eyes off them. “In a few weeks. They’re arranging their brother’s funeral in the Americas.”
“Ah… she’s a sweet girl, isn’t she?” I heard the fond smile in her voice without turning to her. I nodded.
“I feel bad she can’t understand us most of the time,” said Matt. “Should we teach her some English?”
“It’s fine, Mickey’s already teaching her bit by bit.”
I fell quiet, listening to the two’s conversation. After a while, I felt a warm hand over mine. I turned to Jett beside me as he sent me a worried expression. He whispered, so as to not interrupt Matt and Lylia, “You’re so quiet. I’m worried.”
I smiled faintly. “I’m fine. You?”
He pursed his lips, unconvinced, and shook his head. I looked away. He can’t lie even if the world depends on it now when he did it so easily before. Then again, this can’t be any easier for him. Even if he was away for most of Sebby’s life, he’s still his father. They still had a bond.
“You should go home and rest, I’ll stay with Sebby for tonight,” he told me afterward. My head shook before I even thought about it. He sighed, seeing the lack of hesitation. “Please, amor. It’s in our best interest to not have another patient in a hospital. Rest.”
I turned to him. “I’m used to not resting for days. Remember who I am? I’m—”
“You’re retired.” He sharply cut me off. “Forget about the old days. We’re not abusing our bodies anymore because we’re not constantly followed by danger, okay? Our life won’t end if we turn a dark corner. We’re done with that life. So, go home and get some rest.”
I gritted my teeth, unable to retort. He was right. Again. Though, my pride forced me to take a few more minutes of arguing before going home. Jett stayed with Sebby that night. Matt took Lylia and the kids home and I went with them. We parted ways eventually and when I entered the quiet halls of the house, I felt cold. The house felt unfamiliar without Sebby’s warmth. My lower lip trembled and threatened another breakdown.
I tried keeping it together until I showered. I didn’t know if some of the water that went down the drain were tears, but I did not break down in the bathroom. As I dried my hair, however, the silence of the house was broken by the landline’s loud ring. Matt? I picked it up, thinking it was Matt.
“Matt?”
[Agent 067 codename Hawk, is that you?]
My world seemed to have stopped. My tongue got caught in my teeth and I could not find the voice to answer. It was a male voice. When I remained quiet, he asked again. This time, I answered.
“Affirmative.” I could not recognize my own voice. It was stone-cold and nonchalant. But what’s funny, is that that used to be my formal tone. I never imagined using it again. It goes to show how much I changed in the past six months.
[It’s you.] said the caller. [Hawk, it’s me. Fox.]