Grievous Sin

Again Rina nodded.

“Honey, I need to keep pressing on your uterus. Just keep on with your Lamaze breathing.” He turned to Decker. “Just help her like you did in labor.”

The doctor compressed her stomach wall. Rina’s face contorted with pain.

“Try to breathe, Rina,” Hendricks said.

“I can’t—”

“Breathe, Rina,” Decker said. “Squeeze my hand if it hurts.”

Rina took his hand. Her fingers held no strength, and her complexion had become wan. Hendricks clucked his tongue and shook his head. Decker felt his stomach drop.

“Georgina, get a gurney and see who’s available for OB Anesthesiology,” Hendricks said. “Also, get me point two-five milligrams of Methergine and a BP cuff.”

“What’s going on, Doc?” Decker said.

Hendricks ignored him.

“What’s going on?” Decker repeated.

“In a moment, Peter.”

Decker was silent, his gut a tight, wet knot. His body ached with tension. He forced himself to rotate his head, releasing a symphony of creaks and pops from his neck. Georgina returned, carrying a metal tray with a needle on it. Hendricks took the syringe and injected the medicine into Rina’s shoulder. She didn’t even wince.

“I love you, Rina,” Decker whispered.

A nod was her answer.

A petite woman in scrubs entered the room, a gurney in tow. Hendricks pushed the gurney until it abutted Rina’s bedside.

“I’m going to move you to a delivery room, Rina,” Hendricks said. “At the count of three, I want you to slide your backside onto the gurney. Think you can do that?”

Rina moaned a yes.

On three, Rina raised her body as Hendricks and Georgina lifted her onto cold, brushed metal. Up went the side rails, Georgina locking them into place. The flaps of Rina’s hospital gown had unfolded, exposing her breasts. Decker drew them back together and wiped Rina’s forehead with the washcloth.

“Peter, I want to keep a close eye on Rina until she delivers the afterbirth,” Hendricks said. “It may take a while. At this point, it’s no emergency. But she is bleeding a tad more than I’d like to see. I’m sorry, but you won’t be able to be with her now. Don’t worry. And get some rest.”

“Why can’t I come with her?” Decker said. “I’m already suited up—”

“No, I’m going to have to insist you remain here.” Hendricks’s voice was firm and taut. “Georgina, could you please escort Sergeant Decker back to the waiting room.”

Before Decker could get words up from his throat, Rina was whisked away. He felt a sudden chill and shuddered. Pressure on his elbow—Georgina’s hand.

“This way, Sergeant.”

“Why … why is he—”

“Just like he said, Sergeant. He feels safer if she’s in a delivery room—”

“You mean an operating room.”

“Whatever.”

“Why is he taking her there? Can’t he deliver a placenta here?”

“It’s a precaution.”

“Precaution for what?” Decker shouted.

“Sergeant, would you like to come this way, please?”

“No, I would not like to come this way, please! I’d like to know what the hell is happening with my wife!”

Georgina said, “Sergeant, you know as much as I do.”

“Aw c’mon, lady, you work here. Surely, you have some inside dope!”

Georgina was quiet. Decker began to pace.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Sergeant. I understand.”

Decker trod the floor. “He said something about her bleeding. Does he mean bleeding? Or does he mean hemorrhaging?”

“Sergeant, I don’t know.”

The room became still. Decker covered his mouth and blew out air. His eyes began to burn, and he rubbed them vigorously. Georgina managed a tepid smile and placed a fleshy hand on his shoulder.

“Come.”

Decker remained rooted. “When will I know what’s going on?”

“Sergeant, I’m sure the doctor will speak to you just as soon as he can. These changes in plans happen all the time. It’s usually nothing.”

Decker bit his thumbnail. “You know, in my profession, I give that kind of bull … that kind of line all the time. I see a distraught parent whose kid is missing. I say, ‘Hey, it happens all the time. Usually, it’s nothing.’ But sometimes, it’s something.”

Georgina didn’t answer.

“Right?” Decker raised his voice. “Sometimes it is something, isn’t it?”

Georgina lowered her eyes, then looked up. “Yes, sometimes it is something, Sergeant.”

“Well, if it would be something, what …” Decker cleared his voice. “What could it be?”

“Sergeant, I’m just not qualified to diagnose your wife’s condition.”