Ellen Pompeo was in a high security hospital in France. The doctors and nurses were all under strict orders not to breathe a word of what had just taken place. She now lay motionless on the hospital bed, tears flowing rapidly from her eyes. "I've changed my mind," Ellen was suddenly frantic. "I want to see my daughter," she screamed. "I want my baby." She grabbed the front of a nurses scrubs, "Where is my baby?"
"Je suis désolé Miss Pompeo je ne parle pas anglais," the nurse spoke quickly but Ellen did not understand.
"Bébé," Ellen said nervously, "Bébé... please." She begged her, tears still flowing, "Can you find my baby?"
"Qu'est-ce?" The nurse spoke again.
"Get me a doctor who can speak English."
"Pas l'anglais-," the woman threw her hands in the air and preceded to ignore Ellen. She scribbled a few things down on Ellen's chart. Suddenly a swarm of people rushed into Ellen's room. All yelling at her in French.
"I want my baby," Ellen started to scream, "Stop all of you."
Ellen woke out of her sound sleep with tears streaming down her face and a scream still caught in her throat. This wasn't the first time she had this bad dream. She'd had it for years but now it was back and worse than she ever remembered it being. Her heart was beating too quickly and she couldn't steady her breath.
She jumped out of bed. The moonlight streamed in through the window. Ellen turned and padded down the stairs to her kitchen. From the refrigerator she grabbed a bottle of water. She fumbled with the large metal lock on the door too her back patio. When she finally opened it, she stepped barefoot onto the cold tile. The patio had a view of the sparkling city lights, just above sat the moon streaming its romantic light down on her. She settled in a chair on the far corner of her deck.
Thoughts were flying so quickly through her head that she was starting to get dizzy. Images of the tiny baby's face were flashing through her head. How could she have given her up? How could she have thought for one second that this would be the right thing? A million tiny wonderful moments that she'd shared with Stella ran through her head. Ellen felt as if someone had set her chest on fire. Those very moments she would never get a chance to share with this little girl. She would never hear the way she said 'momma' for the first time or watch her take her first steps.
Ellen hazily recalled the way she felt when her sister had told her that her mother was dead. She burst into tears realizing the pain she had caused this little girl, her own daughter. You are never the same person after the loss of a parent. In a matter of seconds the world turns to a lonely dark place. No little girl should have to survive that.
The sudden ring of her cell phone broke the eerie silence. She cringed as if there was someone in the house that would be startled by the loud noise. The number that flashed across the front was unfamiliar. Ellen assumed it was just a wrong number. She set her phone down on the little table next to her. Her stomach quivered nervously and on the very last ring, she decided to answer.
Ellen cleared her throat, "Hello." There was a long silent pause, "hello?
"Ellen," Patrick's buttery voice sent chills down her spine. "I didn't expect you to be awake."
"Yeah," she cleared her throat, "I couldn't sleep." Her hands trembled.
"Me either," he answered softly. He hesitated again sighing in her ear. "Look I had planned on leaving this on your voicemail but..." he cleared his throat, "I should have been the better person. I would never keep your daughter from you, in any situation." His voice was filled with bitterness. "I'm going to talk to her tomorrow. I'm not going to make her do anything she doesn't want to."
Her throat was building with emotion again. She cleared it away, "Okay." Ellen voice trembled, "Patrick..."
"Yeah," he answered softly.
"Will you tell her I'm sorry," she could barely speak.
"I'll tell her," Patrick said tenderly. Her soft, pained voice reminded him of a woman he once loved. "Goodnight Ellen." A sweet memory of her danced through his head. She was smiling at him playfully in her tiny blue scrubs, sunlight glittering on her face. The after effects of the sweet memory stung his stomach.
She cleared her throat again, "Goodnight."
YOU ARE READING
I Think I've Had Enough
FanfictionOn a quiet afternoon in early Summer, Patrick pondered what it would be like to see her again. He had spent the last seven years waking up next to Jillian but not a day went by when he didn't wonder. With each passing year being without her hurt a l...
