HIS FORSAKEN WIFE HIS GREATEST REGRET

A Cab for the Spare Child

Ziva's POV

My eyes were so heavy. Like someone had tied weights to them. The ceiling blurred.

"BP dropping. Forty-four over twenty-eight."

"Push another fluid bolus. Wide open."

"Her heart rate is fifty and falling."

"Atropine. 0.2 milligrams. Slow push."

Something cold went into my IV. I felt it travel up my arm like a tiny river. My chest felt strange.

"Ziva. Squeeze my hand."

I tried. My fingers didn't move.

"Ziva."

I heard the fear in his voice.

"Come on, kiddo. Squeeze. Just a little."

I squeezed.

It was barely anything, but Connor's whole body relaxed.

"That's it. That's my girl. Again."

I squeezed again. Harder this time.

"BP coming up. Fifty-two over thirty."

I heard feet running and voices overlapping, but Connor stayed beside me. His hand never left mine.

"You're doing so good," he said. "Just keep your eyes on me. Don't go to sleep yet."

"Mommy," I whispered.

"Mommy's coming. I called her myself. She's driving as fast as she can."

I believed him. I had to.

The second bag of fluids went in. The pressure on my arm felt strange.

My breathing got easier, and the tightness in my chest loosened.

"I want to see my mommy," I said.

"I know." Connor's thumb rubbed the back of my hand. "She'll be here soon. Just keep breathing for me. In and out. Nice and slow."

I breathed.

The beeping steadied.

"BP sixty-five over forty. Heart rate sixty."

"Hold the atropine for now. Let's see if she stabilizes."

The nurses stepped back. I also noticed that the urgency in the room was gone.

Connor leaned close.

"You scared us," he said quietly. "Don't do that again."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I know." He smiled. But it was a tired smile. "Just rest now."

"I'm really sleepy."

"I know. Go to sleep. I'll be right here."

"Doctor Connor, when can I go home?"

"Ziva, we are keeping you for a few more days. You will be discharged when your condition improves more."

"Okay, but will you wake me when Mommy comes?"

He nodded. "I'll wake you."

I closed my eyes.

***

The morning after.

I woke up, and the room was still the same.

But the light outside the window was brighter.

I turned my head, and doctor Connor's chair was empty.

No Mommy. No Daddy.

I lay there for a long time, just watching the door. Waiting for it to open. Waiting for someone to come.

Nobody came.

The pain was still there in my hip and my bones. But it was not as bad as yesterday. Just a dull ache that stayed with me when I breathed.

I was very sad and hungry.

Where was Mommy? Connor said he would wake me when she came. But she didn't come. Did she forget about me, too?

The door opened.

A man walked in. Not Connor.

This man was older and taller. His white coat was very clean. He smiled at me, but the smile felt strange.

"Good morning, Ziva. I'm Dr. Sammy."

I had heard that name before. In the hallway. Before the surgery. Connor argued with him.

"Where's Doctor Connor?"

Dr. Sammy picked up my chart. He looked at it for a long time without answering.

"He's not on shift today. I'll be taking care of your discharge."

"Discharge?"

"You're going home."

I sat up a little. The pain flared.

"But Doctor Connor said I had to stay. He said a few more days."

Dr. Sammy put the chart down. He looked at me the way grown-ups look at children who ask too many questions.

"Doctor Connor is not in charge here." He said it slowly. Like I was supposed to understand something.

"But—"

"Your father has requested that you be discharged. He's waiting outside for you."

My heart jumped.

Daddy was outside? "Daddy is here?"

"He's waiting in the car."

The car. Not inside. Not at my bedside. Not asking how I felt.

He was outside.

"Did he come to see me? Before? When I was sleeping?"

Dr. Sammy didn't answer. He just wrote something on the chart.

I looked at the door and the empty corridor.

Daddy didn't come.

He was with Nolan. Of course. Nolan came first. Grandma said so.

Nolan is a boy. He'll carry the Riggs name. You're a girl. You must help him. That's your role.

I remembered her words. I remembered the way she said them like I wasn't really part of the family. Like I was just there to give things away.

"Can I see Doctor Connor before I go? He said he was going to help me find my iPad. I need to show Mommy—"

"You need to get ready for discharge." Dr. Sammy turned to the nurse in the corner. "Get the wheelchair."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to wait for Connor. But my voice was small and nobody was listening.

The nurse brought the wheelchair.

Dr. Sammy came to my bed. He pulled back my blanket. He put his hands under my arms and lifted me.

The pain shot through my hip like a knife.

I made a small sound.

Dr. Sammy didn't say anything. He just put me in the chair. The hard seat pressed against the bandage. I bit my lip.

The nurse took the handles. She pushed me out of the room.

Down the hallway. Past the nurses' station.

Nobody said goodbye. Nobody said I was brave. Where is Doctor Connor?

The doors opened. The lobby was full of people. Families. Mothers holding children. Fathers carrying bags.

I looked for Daddy's face but I didn't see him.

The nurse pushed me outside.

The sun was too bright. I squinted.

And then I saw them.

Daddy. Grandma Irene. Nolan.

They were standing by the car. Daddy was bent down, talking to Nolan. His face was soft and gentle. The way I always wanted him to look at me.

Grandma was holding the handle of Nolan's wheelchair. Her hand was on his shoulder. She was smiling down at him.

Nolan was laughing. He looked better than before.

They looked like a happy family. The three of them.

I wasn't in the picture.

"Daddy."

My voice came out small. But he heard it.

He turned. Grandma turned. Nolan turned.

They looked at me.

Grandma's smile dropped. She looked at the nurse who pushed me. "What took you so long? We've been waiting."

Nobody asked how I was feeling.

Nobody asked if I was hurting.

Daddy walked over. He took the handles of my wheelchair from the nurse. He didn't look at my face. He looked at the car.

"Your mother has been calling me all morning," he said. "You're finally going to meet her at the house."

I looked at Daddy's face. He still wasn't looking at me. I wanted him to look at me. I wished he would ask me if I was in pain.

He opened the back door of the car.

"I'll drive you home now," he said.

Nolan's voice cut through the air.

"Daddy! Please come with me to Grandma's house. Please. I want you to stay with me."

Daddy hesitated for just a second.

"I have to take Ziva home first. I'll come right after."

Nolan's face crumpled. Tears started. His lip trembled.

"But I want you now. Please, Daddy. Please."

Grandma stepped forward. Her voice was sharp.

"For God's sake, Jace. Call her a cab. Your son just had surgery. I don't know where else you'd rather be."

Call her a cab. Your son. Not me. I wasn't her grandchild. I was just the girl who didn't matter.

Daddy looked at Nolan crying. Looked at Grandma's angry face. Looked at me.

For one second, I thought he would choose me.

"You're right, mom." He pulled out his phone. "A cab will be better for her."

The words hit my chest, and I felt it tearing into pieces.

Better.

A cab was better. He made a call.

"The cab will be here in two minutes."

He started to turn.

I reached out and grabbed his arm.

It was fast and desperate. I didn't think. I just held on.

"Daddy, please." My voice was shaking. Tears were already falling. "Please don't go. Stay with me. Take me home. Please."

His hand was warm. I held it as tight as I could.

He looked down at my fingers wrapped around his.

Then he pulled.

Slowly. He took my hand off his. He placed it on the arm of the wheelchair.

"Nolan needs me," he said.

He turned around.

He walked to the car. He lifted Nolan out of his wheelchair. He put him in the back seat. He buckled him in.

Grandma got in the front.

The doors closed, and the engine started.

I watched through my tears. The three of them. Together. Happy. A family.

The car pulled away.

I sat in the wheelchair. The sun was warm. My face was wet.

Nobody was looking at me anymore.

The nurse behind me put her hand on my shoulder. Her fingers tightened. Just a little. Like she understood how hurt I was feeling.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

I didn't say anything. I swallowed through my tears.

The cab came.

The nurse helped me inside. Buckled me in. Closed the door.

The driver didn't talk. He just drove.

I looked out the window. The buildings went by.

I was going home. I was going to Mommy.

That was the only thing that kept me going.

Mommy would hold me. Mommy would ask how I felt. Mommy would look at my face.

I held onto that.

The cab drove on until the hospital disappeared.