This Is Me and You Until We've Got Nothing Left

As I left the hotel, guess who came up out of a cab? One simple freaking guess; Pete. This asshole looked at me like I was a ghost; I was so pissed off and scared to hell, that I didn't even say anything, I just walked past him and into the cab waiting for me.

"Naomi, wait!" Pete called after me.

I got into the cab and he managed to slip through the door. The cabby looked back at us, "One ride at a time!"

"This is my girlfriend," Pete snapped, "Shut up and drive wherever she's going."

The cabby looked at me and I sighed, "To the airport."

The cabby looked forward and took off; Pete grabbed my attention; "The airport?"

"Lewy is in the hospital. Didn't you get my texts?" I was on the edge of yelling at him.

He looked at me with furrowed brows and then felt his pockets. I shook my head, exhaling, listening to him feel himself until he found his phone. "Oh, shit...Naomi, I didn't know. It was on silent."

I didn't care anymore; my nerves were shot; making it home was my only thought. I didn't care about Pete, nor did I care what he was doing. All we seem to do is run around in circles, so what's the point of being angry.

"What's wrong with Lewy?"

I just shook my head, "He's sick. He's in the hospital."

"What happened?"

I looked at him, ready to explain, when I saw his lips; they were visibly swollen. "You're unbelievable." I muttered. "Not even when I'm with you, you can't manage to keep your dick in your pants."

"What're you talking about?" He spat.

"What's the point? You're just gonna deny it. You're such a pig."

"I didn't do anything!"

"You're a liar!" I shouted at him, "God, you're completely unbelievable, Pete! You're disgusting! I-I-I," I stammered unsure of what to say, "You invite me here just to blow me off and go fuck some girl; that's real nice, Pete. That's exactly what I wanted, it's exactly how I wanted to spend the short break away from our son, who, might I add, is sick with an infection in his lungs."

"I didn't force you down here." He growled.

I raised my hand and smacked him across his face, "Fuck you! Don't you ever ask me to do anything for you ever again! Never, in your goddamn life, ever ask me to do or go anywhere for you!"

Again, he growled, "Don't fucking hit me."

"Go to hell!"

The cabby was making shifty eyes at me in the rearview mirror. I crossed my arms, clawing at my skin to keep from crying. I dug my nails deep into my arms, clenching my jaw, trying not to cry.

The rest of the ride was silent.

Once the cab driver stopped at the airport, I paid the fare, grabbed my bag and hurriedly climbed out. I moved as fast as I could, away from the cab, away from Pete. But, as fast I moved, Pete moved faster, gaining up behind me, grabbing my arm, causing me I drop my bag; "Naomi, stop."

I didn't want to make a scene, so I pulled my arm away as quick and gently as I could. His jagged fingernails scratched me, but I didn't say anything about it; "I don't want to do this with you in public, so you just go back to whatever little girlfriend you have here and leave me alone. You and me will never ever be together; we're through, I'm through with you, Peter. I don't want anything to do with you, I don't need you, I won't never need you and I don't want you."

He just looked at me, blankly.

"You can see Lewis, but that's it. That's all you'll be good for to me, is being a dad to our son. If you can't do that, than you're even worse than I never suspected you to be."

His jaw set, teeth baring, "I didn't do anything!" He hissed.

"Keep telling yourself that, Pete, 'cuz I'm not listening to it anymore." I turned away, heading to get my ticket.

Pete didn't follow me.


I was worn out by the time I landed in O'Hare and caught a cab to Wilmette. I had fallen asleep along the way, but was shaken awake by Mr. Wentz, who had been at my parents' house, waiting for me. He paid the fare for me and then took me inside; "How is he?" I asked as soon as we were inside.

"They've got him on anti-biotics." Mr. Wentz explained, "He's fine now, but his fever hasn't broken."

"I'm gonna go wash my face, brush my teeth, get some coffee and then head there. I gotta call my mom, too."

Mr. Wentz rubbed my back, "Naomi, just sit down for a minute. Where's Pete?"

I shrugged, "I don't know."

He didn't ask for me to elaborate, he just patted my back; "When was the last time you slept?"

I sighed, "Uh, 9 in the morning."

"A little less than 24 hours." He stated; "Naomi, just take it easy."

"I can't. I have to go see Lewis."

Mr. Wentz gave a small sigh and then nodded, "Okay, but you need to eat."

I agreed and hurriedly went and got ready. I zoomed through it all, my body, mind didn't stop until I was actually in the car with Mr. Wentz. I took a breath and the gulped down some coffee; "How did he look?" I asked.

"Pinkish." He replied. "He was a little green earlier. Aren't you worried about your sister?"

I coursed my hair back, "That reminds me, I gotta call my mom."

"Go ahead, it'll take your mind off things."

I grabbed my phone and dialed my mom's number, watching the street lamps flicker off with the morning peaking through. The phone rang and rang until I got her voicemail. I sighed deeply, "Mom, this is Naomi, call me back. Vita is in the hospital."

My voice had been flat and I was just so exhausted and tired of everything. I wasn't going to bow down to anyone, and I wasn't going to be talked down to or given excuses. I was tired of being walked on, I wasn't going to take it anymore.

"Do you want to see Vita first or Lewis?" Mr. Wentz asked me.

"Lewis." I answered.

We had gotten to the hospital, and immediately, I was met with my dad, Amy, Abbey, Mrs. Wentz and Andrew. Arms were wrapped around me before I could even comprehend that they were all there. Tears flowed, I couldn't speak and I was immediately taken to my son by my dad.

Everything was basically a blur.

Lewis was in an incubator, just like when he was born, and I had to wear a mask, wash my hands and cloth booties over my sneakers to keep any germs away. My heart was in my throat, hands shook and my eyes were stinging from the tears; I went into the room alone and saw him.

"It's a special case," a nurse told me, "We don't want any airborne particles harming him."

I nodded, "Is he okay?"

"The infection is just in his lungs and chest, but we're 85% sure he'll make a full recovery."

"What about the pneumonia?"

"He's fighting it," the nurse, Kenya, smiled, "He's a little trooper."

Lewis was asleep when I got to go in and sit with him. He looked pale now; the nurse said the anti-biotics made him sleepy, but he was fine. They fed him and changed him whenever he needed it, and checked his temperature every few hours. He was in great hands, as I saw and was told.

"Do you know when he'll be better? I mean...um, will it be a week or a few days?"

The nurse looked at her charts as I caressed Lewy's hand in the incubator; "We're not too sure. Things change; he could miraculously get better in a day or it may take a week, we just have to see."

"He's a premie, ya'know," I sniffled under the mouth guard mask, "I was told he would have a little bit of a breathing problem, but I never thought it would be like this."

"It's always a surprise," Nurse Kim reassured me, "You never know when these things'll happen."

I wanted so bad to kiss Lewy's forehead and hold my baby boy, but I was afraid to. I spent a little over an hour with him before I left to check on Vita. It took a lot for me to actually leave Lewy; I felt so terribly sad leaving him there in that sterile room.

But, I did go, and I talked briefly with the pediatrician before going to the waiting room. Everyone had gone, except my dad, who was reading the paper and chewing on a doughnut. I sat beside him, taking his doughnut for myself; "Thank you." I murmured as I bit into it.

My dad put his arm around my shoulder, "You're okay." He stated softly.

"I wish it were as believable as you say, dad."

He rubbed my arm, "It is. You gotta think positively, Naomi. Are you going to go see Vita?"

"Yeah." I sighed, "I don't even wanna look at her."

"Kids make mistakes."

"She's 13, dad. Who the hell gave her alcohol? I never drank, not even now, I don't drink."

"People are different. Talk to her."

I stood, taking a bite of the doughnut, "Will you be here when I get back?"

He smiled at me, "Of course I will, Naomi."

I smiled softly, kissing his cheek, and headed off to the recovery wing. My steps were quick; I had spoken with a nurse and Vita's doctor and was given her room number. I wasn't angry, more so confused and frustrated with her; I was also so tired.

I entered her room, finding she was in a single recovery room. The TV was on and she was lying there, watching it; her hand limp on the large remote, that doubled as a speaker.

Vita's eyes shot wide when she saw me; I stood at the end of her bed, "What the hell did you do?"

Vita didn't say anything; she had oxygen hooked up around her ears that slipped up to her nostrils, face pale, lips chapped and she looked drained. She was hooked up to an IV, saline dripping evenly. "I'm sorry." She replied in a soft, sore tone.

"Who gave you alcohol?"

"Ashlyn stole it from her dad." She confessed. "We drank for a few hours...I hadn't eaten at all. It's never happen before."

My brows shot up, "Before? When the hell has it happened before, Vita?!"

She grimaced, "Naomi...I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it! I trusted you, I really did. I thought you were smart...I trusted your little friend! How long has this been going on?"

She swallowed, silent.

I shook my head, "Fine, don't tell me. Either way, you're going back to Manhattan with mom; I don't give a damn what she says, you're going back into her care."

"But, Naomi, please! I didn't--"

"I don't want an excuse! I gave you trust and I thought you were smarter than this, Vita! I really did!"

"We were just having fun!" Her voice cracked.

"Fun? You think drinking until you pass out is fun?! It's not! You look like an idiot!"

She began to cry, but her tears and pleads fell to deaf ears.

"As soon as you're out of here, you're going back to mom's. I don't give a damn what she says or what you say, I am not dealing with this. I have a son I have to think about, I have to finish school, and I will not stress over a life that's not mine to stress over."

Vita sniffed and wiped her face, "I'm sorry, Naomi."

I swallowed, shaking my head, "I am too."