Corrine
When I open my eyes, it’s bright, blindingly bright.
The pain is gone.
I look around the room.
Jude is sitting next to my hospital bed, and there is an IV in my arm.
“What...”
I’m confused because I’m not usually in hospital beds. I’m usually standing over them. I can’t remember.
I can’t remember anything.
I finger the gauze circling my wrist, concealing stitches. How did it get there?
“What happened?” I ask, and my voice is scratchy. “Why am I here?”
Jude’s face is grim. There is pain in his eyes, true deep pain, and I’m puzzled. I’ve never felt so disoriented. I was in my house, and now I’m not.
Now I’m here, and my husband is hesitant to tell me why.
“Jude?”
“You...” He clears his throat. “You tried to kill yourself, Co.”
My heart pounds, and I stare at my wrist, then at him.
“No,” I argue. “I didn’t.” I shake my head, but he’s so very grim, and I’m dizzy still.
“You did,” he says limply. “I got there just as the ambulance did, and you were in a pool of blood. Corinne, God. Why?”
He drops his head into his hands, and I’m stunned.
“I don’t... I don’t remember,” I say, and my words are wooden, and my heart is still. “I don’t think I would ever do that.”
But there are holes in my brain. More holes. Just like from that night so long ago, and I can’t remember what happened. I can’t remember then, and I can’t remember now. I’m so damaged, so very damaged.
“Oh my God,” I moan, and I feel sick. “I’m so broken, Jude. I’m so sorry.”
Jude swallows, and he’s got a shadow of stubble on his jaw, and his eyes are red and tired.
“If you didn’t want to have the baby, you could’ve told me. You didn’t have to...” He closes his eyes. “You didn’t have to attempt an abortion yourself. At home.”
My eyes fly back open. “Attempt an abortion? Jude, what are you saying?”
He sighs, and he grasps my hand, and I don’t know why he even wants to touch me. Not if what he’s saying is true.
“You took the abortion pill, Corinne. They found it in your bloodstream. You took it all at once.”
He keeps his eyes closed, and I try to breathe.
“No. I wouldn’t.” I shake my head, and Jude nods.
“You did.”
I’m stunned. I’m speechless. I don’t even... I can’t... I can’t form a cohesive thought.
I...
I...
“I wouldn’t,” I say again. “Jude, that doesn’t make sense. Why would I give myself an abortion and then try to kill myself? Why wouldn’t I just kill myself and save a step?”
The words are harsh and painful, but they are logical. Why in the world would I do that?
Jude shakes his head. “You weren’t thinking clearly,” he says, and he’s so sad. He looks so forlorn and alone, and where is Michel? Surely he didn’t leave Jude here to deal with this alone. “There’s more,” he adds.
I’m still, utterly frozen. “How can there be more?”
I’m afraid to ask, afraid to know.
“You...you hurt Artie. Could have killed her.”
The room spins.
“I...” I can’t even speak. I can’t.
I would never.
Jude stares out the window. “Michel is at our house right now. Cleaning. It’s...it’s a mess there, Co.”
Oh my God.
“That isn’t me!” I know myself, don’t I? Don’t I? “I wouldn’t.”
“You had a mental break of some sort,” my husband tells me, and his voice is clinical now. “It was likely a result of this time of year and your hormones combined. They were a trigger and you...”
“And I hurt our dog, gave myself an abortion, then tried to kill myself.”
Jude nods.
I can’t even think.
Everything comes in fragments, and I try to remember what I did, and I can’t. It’s all a blur.
“I was in the bedroom,” I tell him. “I remember that. I was sleeping with Artie. And then...something happened.”
I strain hard, trying to think...but it’s just gone.
“It’s not there,” I tell him. “It’s like it was just extracted from my head. I can’t...” But then something something something is there. A shadow. A figure. Standing over me. Shoes, maybe.
“I wasn’t alone,” I blurt out, and Jude lifts an eyebrow.
“Then who was there?”
I focus and focus and think and think, and I can’t remember.
“It’s a fog,” I tell him. “It’s maddening. I can’t remember. I just know someone was.”
He sighs, and I know he doesn’t believe me.
“Corinne, you tried to kill yourself. We need to put you into a treatment program to figure this out. We have to figure out why you’d do it.”
I’m silent, and Jude stares at me.
“Will you? Will you go?”
I...I...
“If you want me to,” I finally say. None of this feels right. None of this feels like me. I’m crazy like my father. I’m crazy like my father.
“I do,” he says simply. “Thank you, Corinne.”
I close my eyes to block it out, but something occurs to me, and my eyes fly open.
“Wait!” I say suddenly. “The baby. You said I attempted an abortion. What about the baby?”
Something moves in Jude’s eyes, something in the depths, and he takes a deep breath.
“It survived. You’re still pregnant, Corinne. It’s a miracle.”