I’m pissed as shit and have to lock that down tight before I scare not only Shelby but the doctor too.
Dr. Cruz telling Shelby her plan cuts through my rage.
“I want to start with a pelvic exam, and then we’ll do an ultrasound if you’re comfortable enough. Both are invasive, to be frank. If you can’t handle it, we can look into other options, but this will be the best way for me to start and take a look around. How does that sound?”
I can feel Shelby looking at me. Schooling my features, I inject as much encouragement as I can manage through my fury and lift my chin. I’m not quite sure what Dr. Cruz means about invasive, but considering she specializes in women’s reproductive health, I can guess the direction this is going.
Shelby’s back straightens, and she looks Dr. Cruz square in the eye. “I’ll be okay. Alex can stay, can’t he?”
Dr. Cruz’s face softens. “Of course. It’s completely up to you.”
“Then I want him to stay.”
It doesn’t take long for Dr. Cruz to wheel in an ultrasound machine and get to work. I step behind a privacy screen so Shelby can undress from the waist down, and I wait until she’s covered with a gown draped over her lap before I return. Dr. Cruz mentioned the gown might give her more comfort than the typical paper sheet, and I’d have to agree. I don’t want to accidentally glimpse something Shelby doesn’t want me to see.
I stay by her head, my hand locked tight to hers as the doctor performs her exam. Every twitch and flinch from Shelby ratchets up my blood pressure, but I remain stoic at her side. The only way I’m leaving is if she tells me to. My own comfort be damned.
As Dr. Cruz explains the ultrasound probe, I can see the fear creeping over Shelby’s face. Leaning down, I kiss the top of her head.
“Speak up, Shelby. You’re doing great, but if you need a minute, just say so.”
She swallows hard and looks up at me. “I want to keep going. I just want it over with.”
I plant a chaste kiss on her pink, pouty lips. “Then let’s get this done so we can get home. Squeeze my hand.”
She follows my suggestion, closing her eyes tight as well. I sense her relax a few seconds later as the doctor clicks around on her computer.
After about ten minutes, the doctor removes the probe and instructs Shelby to dress. I place her clothing on her lap and step back behind the screen.
“All done,” Shelby calls. As I step back into view, she hops down from the table and seats herself back in the chairs. I remain standing at her side. Too much nervous energy flows through my veins to sit right now, and I’m going to have to rein it in for the hour and a half drive home soon.
A knock sounds on the door, and Dr. Cruz steps back in.
“You did very well, Shelby. Let’s talk about what I’ve found.”
I straighten from the wall and place my hand on Shelby’s shoulder.
“Physically, your anatomy feels normal. You do still have a uterus. You said a surgery of some sort was performed to prevent pregnancy. Initially, I thought that meant a hysterectomy. After your ultrasound, it appears this was more likely an attempt to disrupting the fallopian tubes.”
I clench my jaw and exhale sharply.
“I suspect there are damage and scar tissue from the procedure not being performed in a medical setting, and quite possibly by someone with very little medical training. There’s another procedure I’d like to do in the future called a hysteroscopy. It involves using a camera into the uterus to see inside.”
“Is it really necessary?” Shelby asks. “If the damage is already done, what more can I do besides manage the pain?”
“I would like to start you taking NSAIDs for the flare-ups and to help with inflammation. I will also write you a prescription as a last resort if your pain is unbearable. If that controls your pain, we may not need to investigate further. However,” she pauses. “If the pain is unmanaged, a total hysterectomy might be the best course of action to remove the damaged tissues causing the pain.”
My stomach roils violently. All those poor fucking women. My sister. Shelby. “Anything else?”
“Besides grabbing a few labs before you leave today, I’d say that’s all for now. But please keep in touch. I see many patients who go on with their lives and try to live through their pain. I think we can help you with this, at least to keep it at a manageable level.” Dr. Cruz touches Shelby’s knee gently before giving us both a smile and standing.
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, Doc. Thanks.” I reach out to shake her hand. She reciprocates.
“I’ll send in my nurse and get you on your way.”
After a few minutes of bloodwork, we get the discharge instructions and a new prescription, then we get into my car and start the trek home.
I think back to the beginning of all this to the beaten and broken woman. To the trauma flipping on like a switch and shutting her down in an instant. To the recovery from drugs and the healing from physical pain. The small smiles and sadness fading from her eyes. The strength. The bravery. The slow, agonizing climb.
Each day is a step in the right direction with new information.
I’m more prepared than ever.
In some ways, I’ve found a weakness in Gutierrez’s operation.
Cold, hard information.
And I’m not going to let it go to waste.
Looking at the passenger beside me, her hair blowing with the wind from the cracked window, a slightly troubled expression on her face, I know down to the marrow of my bones that I won’t rest until this is over.
It started with my sister.
It continues with Shelby.
And I will pick them up one by one until there’s nobody left.
Chapter Sixteen
Shelby
Somewhere between the highway and home, I fell asleep. Not just a light doze, no. I passed out and did it hard. I woke up and found myself on Alex’s couch. I look at the windows, the curtains open, something Alex has done since the first time I asked him to leave them, and see the orange glow of streetlights. Which means I’ve been asleep for hours.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Today wasn’t traumatic as much as it was long and tension-filled. Three hours in the car plus an hour of fighting back panic will take it out of a person.
What does surprise me is being on the couch. An argument not too long ago of Alex finding me here, and getting angry about it, replays. So why leave me here to sleep when the bed is steps away? And where is Alex, anyway?
Throwing off the blanket he generously put over me, I swing my legs over the side of the couch. Somewhere along the way, he took off my shoes and socks, but my jeans are uncomfortable and twisted from sleep. I wander sleepily into the bedroom, to the closet, tug off my jeans and swap out my shirt for one of Alex’s tees. As I pull the material over my head, I hear the sound of the shower switching off from the master bathroom. I can’t deny that my heart quiets just a tiny bit knowing he’s close, and I’m not alone.
I slip back into his bedroom, intent to sit on the bed and wait for him to finish his shower, but as I enter, I’m struck by silence. I pad silently to his bed and glance down the short hall to the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar, and I can see Alex.
I can see Alex.