Ruth Graham Bell once said that a happy marriage is the union of two forgivers.
I'm not good at forgiveness. I never have been.
I've never had to forgive Tyler for anything.
Except now.
Because it's 4:44 in the morning on the dot, and I'm lying in the bed in a tank top and sweatpants, on my left side, my head proper up with my right arm, my left hand holding my phone at Grey's Anatomy plays on Netflix. My daughter lies next to me, sleeping soundly.
It's 4:44 in the morning and he didn't call. I haven't seen him since ten this morning.
No phone call to tell me he got there safely.
Not phone call to tell me he ate dinner.
No answering the phone to tell me he's staying in the city tonight.
I even called his building to find out if he showed. His Secretary said yes, he showed, and he left around six.
I'm annoyed to shit, and I've thought about putting the baby in the car and going to my parents, or Delaney's, or anywhere to distract myself from that fact that I'm in his California King sized bed with sheets I just changed without my husband.
I tried sleeping already. Multiple times. I've given up.
I sigh, shaking my head to clear the bad thoughts, and I focus on the show.
Thunder rumbles loudly outside.
My show freezes.
No. Is the internet out? Are you serious?
Pissed, I start hitting the screen with my left index finger repeatedly. The screen goes black for a moment, and then starts buzzing in my hand.
It's a number I don't recognize, but being born and raised in The Hamptons, I'd know the area code even if I had dementia.
Who is calling me at 4:47 in the morning?
Hoping it's Tyler, I press answer.
"Hello?" I ask, speaking quietly so I don't wake the baby.
"Yes, hi, is this Tyler Cerda's wife, Carmen?"
"Yes." I say. "Who is this?"
"My name is Doctor Perrish. I'm afraid there's been an accident."
I swallow the lump rising my throat.
"An accident?" I repeat.
"Yes. I'm going to need you to come down to the hospital."
"Okay." I say, my voice thick. "I'm on my way."
I hang up.
Carefully, I rise, picking up Emily, I dial my Mom with my free hand, shoving shit into the diaper bag.
She doesn't answer, so I call Dad.
He doesn't answer, so I call the house.
It's almost five in the morning.
"Hello?" Mom grumbles. I clearly woke her.
"Mom?" I say.
"Carmen?" she asks.
"Mom, the hospital called me, I'm alone with the baby and Tyler never came home. Mom they said there's an accident!"
"An accident." She says. "Okay, alright sweetheart. We're on our way to the hospital."
"Okay." I say.
I pull a bra on, leaving myself in a white tank top, not caring that my black lacy bra is showing through my shirt. Not caring is pouring rain.
I grab anything I could possibly need, and I shove my feet in flip flops. I rush to the garage. Tyler had both cars replaced, and he took the Range Rover, so I buckle Emily into the car seat after settling it into the car.
I start the engine, opening the garage with the remote.
When I door is open, I back into the pouring rain. I shut the garage with the remote.
Usually, the sound of the rain pelting against the car, or the window, it comforts me. It used to scare me.
Until I met Tyler. He taught me to love it.
I drive carefully to the hospital, and as I drive, I call Mrs. Cerda.
She picks up on the last ring.
"Carmen?" she mumbles.
"Hi. I got a call from the hospital and Tyler din't come home and they said there was an accident."
"Oh, oh goodness, we're on our way."
We get off the phone, and I keep dialing people. Delaney doesn't answer, so I call Blake.
He doesn't answer, so I spam call Delaney.
On the sixth call, she answers.
"Carmen, you better have a good fucking reason for rousing me." she snarls.
"Tyler was in an accident. I don't know what happened or what kind of accident but I'm on the way to the hospital."
"Bloody fuck." She says. I hear the sound of skin slapping. "Wake up, dammit, Tyler's in the hospital!"
The line goes dead.
I park as close as I can to the hospital. I get the umbrella from the car and get out. I ditch the car seat and just carry the baby with my hands as I run inside.
I ditch the umbrella in a bush outside and enter the hospital. Emily is awake now, looking around.
My hair is probably standing up in every direction. I don't have my contacts in, and I lost my glasses a week or so ago. Tyler said we'd get them replaced, but I kept forgetting to make the appointment, even though he reminded me every day. He even offered to do it, but I told him no.
"Can I help you?" the woman at the desk asks.
"Yes, I got a call um, my husband got in an accident, which, I don't know what happened, because they didn't tell me, but I got a call from a Doctor Perrish."
The woman nods.
"Alright, okay, just go over there and he'll be with you when he can."
She points to the waiting room.
Emily starts fussing.
I go into the waiting room, pacing, holding the baby, trying to calm her, but I'm frantic. I can't calm down.
Delaney and Blake literally live the next block over from the hospital. They arrive first, and I wave them over, frantic.
"What happened?" Delaney demands, taking Emily from my arms.
"I don't-fuck, I don't know!" I say, knotting my fingers in my hair.
"Car, he's going to be fine. Whatever it is, he's going to be okay."
Slowly, everyone starts arriving, and I find myself twisting the rings on my left hand.
A nervous habit that I've had since the day we got engaged.
Finally, everyone is here. It's 5:10 now, and I'm starting to get mad.
Nobody really says anything to me.
We don't know what to fucking say.
"Are you guys here for Tyler Cerda?" a friendly looking doctor asks.
"Yes." Mrs. Cerda stands up.
"Who is his power of attorney?"
"Me." I say, hugging myself.
"And you're also his wife." He says. I nod, nervous.
He takes a deep breath.
"Well, I have bad news and good news." He says. "Which one first."
"Good." I say automatically.
He takes a deep breath.
"He's not in a coma. And he's alive."
Oh god.
I might pass out.
I bury my head in my hands for a second.
"Okay." I say, my voice shaking.
He sighs. "Tyler was in a car accident." He says.
"No, Tyler is a good driver." I shake my head frantically.
"Let him finish, Car." Delaney puts a careful hand on my shoulder.
The doctor takes a deep breath.
"I'm sorry." I mumble.
He nods. "It's alright. I understand. Tyler was driving in the rain. He hydroplaned across the median on the interstate and had a head to head collision."
My expression doesn't change.
He takes a deep breath.
"He went through the windshield, flew ten feet into the air, and landed in the grass on the side of the road."
I'm trembling.
"Shockingly, he has a concussion."
"Just a concussion?" Delaney demands.
He nods. "Tyler is very strong. He has a minor concussion and a few bruises here and there, and some cuts. He split his forehead open and he has seven stitches. He's unconscious. We're waiting for him to regain consciousness. I expect he will make a full recovery, but until he wakes up, we can't say for sure."
The intercom clicks on.
"Dr. Perrish, your patient in room 174 is waking up."
"One seventy four?" I repeat, grabbing his wrist before he walks away.
"Yes." He says. "I have to go."
"Wait!" I say as he turns to go. "Room 174." I repeat. "That's Tyler, isn't it?"
"Yes." He furrows his eyebrows. "How did you know that?"
I find that fortune cookie while cleaning out my bag, and I hesitate, opening it.
I rip it in two, eating the entire thing before reading my fortune.
You'll meet somebody today who is going to be a fortunate stroke of serendipity. You've seen this person, but never spoke to them.
My lucky numbers are 20, 22, 2, 3, 4, 174.
I roll my eyes, setting the fortune on my bed.
Bullshit.
I snap out of the memory.
"I just know." I whisper.
He looks at me like I'm insane, and then he turns around and walks away.
Delaney looks at me.
"Carmen, you look like you're about ready to pass out. You need to sit."
"No, I'm not sitting until I see my husband!" I snap at her.
She pats my back, and then sits down.
I continue pacing, wringing my hands together.
That fucking fortune cookie.
It made Tyler and I get together.
Room 174 was my apartment number.
That room is important.
Why the hell is room 174 popping up again?
Something is going to happen
"No, I need to see him, now."
I start to rush off, but Delaney catches me, yanking me back, forcing me into a chair, straddling me.
"Are you fucking crazy? You need to sit and wait. We're all scared, Carmen, but having a panic attack isn't going to solve anything."
I sigh, shutting my eyes.
It's luck.
If he's in room 174, he's there for a reason.
A good reason.
I nod slowly.
"Right. You're right."
Twenty minutes or so later, the doctor comes back.
"He's awake." He says. "He's stable. He wants you guys to come up."
"He's going to be okay though, right?"
"Right." He says. "He'll make a full recovery."
I nod, standing up. Mom waves me off when I try to take the baby, so I let her carry her, and Dad has the diaper bag.
We all go upstairs, and I'm frantic.
"He's right behind that door." The doctor says.
He squeezes my shoulder and leaves us be.
Nobody pressures us.
Slowly, I open the door, peeking one eye in.
He's watching SpongeBob on the TV.
I slowly push the door opene the rest of the way.
I still don't move, I just watch him.
Finally, he turns his head to look at my.
He's still my Tyler, only, he has stitches on his forehead and a bruise on his shoulder.
I thought I'd cry, or just run up to him and hug him.
But I don't.
I feel an overwhelming sense of rage fill me.
I should walk away to calm myself down.
"Are you fucking stupid?" I hiss.
"Carmen." Mom says. I ignore her, walking into the room.
"Driving?" I snarl. "In this weather?"
He watches me, the same look of humor on his face that he always has when I bitch at him.
"You didn't even call me! Where is your phone?"
"I left it on the charger at home." He says quietly.
"Do you know what they fucking said to me?" I snap at him. They're all in this room now, and the doctor is too, with a fucking sedative needle.
I know it's for Tyler.
"What did they say to you?"
"They said that you were in an accident. That I needed to come down to the hospital."
He nods slowly.
"Driving?" I ask again. "In this weather?"
My voice is cold.
"I told you storms don't scare me, and I don't sleep in beds that you're not in."
I stare at him, just fucking pissed. The doctor steps closer with the sedative.
I bite my lip, ready to slap the shit out of him.
He shifts in bed, sitting up, like he's ready for something.
The doctor steps closer at my silence.
The only sound in the room is of the beeping of his heart monitor.
Strong and steady.
"Do you know what your room number is?" I whisper.
"No." he says, confused. I wrap my arms around myself. "What is it?" he asks.
"One seventy four."
And then I start sobbing.