Love Unscripted

  I heard two men speaking briefly outside my door. Then a man in a suit knocked on my door and allowed himself entry.

  “Ms. Mitchell, I’m Walter Krause, Hospital Administrator. How are you feeling?”

  I was hit by a car. How do you think I’m feeling? This was just like the stupid questions that Ryan got asked every time he had to do an interview.

  “I’ve been better,” I muttered, looking at the IV that they inconveniently stuck in the top of my hand.

  “Yes, well, I want to let you know that we will do our best to provide you with privacy while you are a patient here, but I hope you understand that we cannot guarantee policing all the corridors.”

  There was nothing in place to prevent any stranger from walking into the hospital and into my room.

  My eyes flickered back to Ryan as he ended his call quickly.

  “Mr. Krause, Ryan Christensen.” Ryan held out his hand. “I have hired private security for Taryn. You’ll inform me directly of any considerations or difficulties during her stay. I do not want you or any other member of your staff to concern her with those details. She needs to rest and heal.”

  “Of course, Mr. Christensen. That’s why I’m here. Perhaps we can speak privately in my office.”

  “I trust your staff will comply with the medical privacy act?” Ryan stressed.

  “Yes, of course. However we are only governed to keeping her medical condition and records private. I will instruct the staff on proper conduct,” Mr. Krause said.

  “I’ll be contacting my Publicist to release a formal statement to the media. No other statements are to be made by any member of this hospital without consulting with me first. Is that clear?” Ryan’s authoritative tone made me grin.

  “Yes. I understand. Would you like to take a few moments to come to my office?”

  “Thank you but no, not at this time. Mike?” Ryan called out.

  Mike, Ryan’s bodyguard, came into my room.

  “Mr. Krause, was it? This is my security manager, Mike Murphy. He will be handling all security matters.” The two men shook hands.

  “I don’t want any reporters or photographers on this floor. There will be a security team posted outside her door at all times. We can have a discussion later or you can speak to Mr. Murphy directly for any security matters. Right now my priority is her.” Ryan rubbed his hand across my head.

  “Very well. We can talk later. If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Mr. Krause seemed a bit perturbed with the way Ryan just handled him. I didn’t care. I loved Ryan’s “no bullshit” take charge attitude. It was one of the qualities that I loved the most about him.

  Ryan barely nodded at Mr. Krause. He was stroking my hair, totally focused on me. The nurses were still waiting inside my room - for what, I didn’t know.

  “We’re just going to check the fetal heartbeat again,” one of the nurses informed.

  She rolled up my hospital gown and pressed the microphone thing into my bruised stomach. Soon we were able to hear the whoosh-whoosh noise of our baby’s heartbeat again.

  Ryan smiled gloriously and kissed my forehead tenderly.

  “That’s our baby in there!” he whispered his happiness privately in my ear. “I love you so much.”

  I was elated that he was fine with me being pregnant; he was actually beyond fine with it. I was able to relax and not worry; it made all the pain seem worthwhile. I smiled back at him with pure joy and love in my heart. He was going to be a father; I was going to be a mother. His blue-eyed baby was growing inside me.

  I felt the nurse wiggle the microphone when the whooshing noise ceased; my attention immediately turned to her. The two nurses were looking at each other; neither of them looked happy. One of the nurses quickly darted out of the room.

  My smile faded and a sharp pain stabbed me in the bellybutton. I felt wetness gush between my legs. Pain rocketed into my chest from my bruised ribs when I tried to sit up. I panted in and out hoping that shallow breaths would help me manage the pain.

  “Something’s wrong. I feel like something just popped,” I breathed out at the nurse. I wanted to know what was wet between my legs. I tried to grab the top of the bed sheet so I could get my hand underneath it, but the stupid IV sticking out of my hand caught the bedrail. I felt the tube that was stuck in my vein poke me. “Ow!” I squeezed my eyes from the discomfort.

  Just then another sharp pain stabbed me again; this one so intense that it caused me to cry out in agony. The nurse pulled the bed sheet down past my feet, allowing me a split second to feel between my legs with my hand. Crimson red blood was all over my fingertips.

  The other nurse wheeled the large ultrasound machine back into my room.

  Doctor Willsten came running. I was hooked up to a blood pressure machine in no time. As soon as the doctor saw the amount of blood, he quietly instructed the nurse to call for an O.R. suite. I was wise enough to know that meant surgery.

  The doctor was performing the ultrasound of my stomach while the one nurse monitored my blood pressure. Ryan stayed at the head of my bed; he was frozen in place. We were all listening intently to the whoosh-whoosh sound of our baby’s heartbeat. Gradually it slowed in tempo until it just abruptly stopped. There was nothing but silence. I felt faint.

  In an instant, four people were in my room, lifting me up by the bed sheet to relocate me on a gurney. I was wheeled out of my room in a hurry.

  “Where are you taking her?” Ryan cried out.

  I reached my hand out to him but a nurse was blocking Ryan from following me. The nurse stayed with Ryan when they wheeled me out of my room.

  Next thing I remember I was being rolled into a room with bright lights. People were hustling all around me. I was so confused and now completely sedated that I couldn’t even speak if I wanted to. A nurse took each of my weak legs and propped them up in stirrups. A plastic mask was placed over my mouth and nose. In an instant, everything was black again.

  My eyes flickered when I started to wake up. It was hard to keep my eyes open for any great length of time. Some sort of machine was beeping rhythmically in the background, lulling me back to sleep. I felt the cool rush of air streaming into my nose. I must have that air hose prong thing stuck in my nose again.

  “Taryn. How you doing hun?” Some lady spoke loudly at me. “Can you wake up for me?”

  I looked at her with one eye. Who the hell are you and why are you shouting in my ear?

  “Hey there! Time to wake up! We’re going to take you back to your room now. You’re going to be just fine.” She smiled at me.

  I was still groggy when they brought me back to my room. I saw Mike and another man perched on chairs outside my door. They stood up when the nurses stopped my gurney.

  I could see Ryan sitting in a chair in my room; his face was in his hands until he heard the commotion in the hallway. When I saw him up close, I noticed his eyes were red and puffy. I could tell he’d been crying. Sitting across the room from him was the hospital chaplain.

  The doctor explained that the impact caused my placenta to separate from my uterus and that the baby didn’t make it. The doctor had to remove it all from my body, but he assured us that I’d still be able to have children.

  The chaplain tried to give us words of comfort, using soft tones and encouraging us to believe in God’s will. He said a prayer for the innocent life that left us today. Although I appreciated his efforts, I thanked him and asked him politely to give Ryan and me some privacy.

  Ryan set his face on my chest and gently wrapped my bruised body in a hug; I draped my good arm up around him. I felt his tears as they soaked into my gown. We both sobbed uncontrollably, breaking down from the agony of our loss.

  “There you go!” Marie gently smiled at me as she finished wrapping a long scarf around my neck and face. “No one will see your puffy lip now.”

  “Are there a lot out there?” I motioned with my chin towards the window.

  ?
??A few,” Ryan muttered, helping me with my coat. “Don’t worry about them. They won’t see you leave. Are you sure about this? I mean I’ll charter a private plane…”

  “No, Ryan. Please? I want to go home. I just want to get out of this hospital and sleep in my own bed.”

  “But Marla said that…” Ryan continued.

  “I don’t care what your Publicist said,” I raised my voice slightly. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to hide somewhere. Maybe it would have been better if that damn car would have killed me, or better yet, Angelica running me over. That would be a better story for the media.”

  Ryan scowled at me. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

  “Marie, please tell the nurse I’m ready to leave and get me out of here… please?” I pleaded.

  I was rolled via wheelchair to the loading docks where food and supplies get delivered to the hospital, all for the sake of avoiding the reporters and photographers who were hovering around the main entrance to the hospital. I was so glad to slide onto the leather back seat of the sedan and finally be on my way home; it made enduring the pain of getting my bruised body in the car worth it.

  A crowd of reporters, photographers, and onlookers blocked the alleyway behind my pub. Our driver had to honk his horn to get people to move out of the way. My blood was starting to boil with anger and frustration. All of this attention for what - to take more photographs of Ryan cheating on his rekindled love, Lauren, with “the nobody” from Rhode Island?

  And to top off my glorious day, there was Kyle, standing dutifully by my door with other security men to hold back the throng of photographers. He took his sunglasses off and shoved them into his pocket when my car came to a stop.

  Our stalker, Angelica, was still on the loose and yet there Kyle stood – willing to risk his own life to save mine.

  His face was pained and I could tell just by the way he looked at me and held his arms out to his sides that he was telling me “I told you so.”

  See this? All of this scrutiny… all of this incomprehensible, unwanted attention? More pictures to post with their web of lies? Haven’t you had enough yet, Taryn?

  Kyle’s expression quickly changed when he glanced at Ryan. His contempt for Ryan was obvious and the eye daggers that flew between the two men were mutual. I didn’t know who hated whom more, but their hatred for each other was palpable.

  “Come on Honey, I got you.” Ryan held my hand and elbow, helping me out of the car. It was difficult to stand up. My knee was very bruised and stiff and the pain from my ribs shot down into my hips.

  “Ow!” I winced.

  “I won’t let go,” Ryan muttered. He helped me take a step. “Do you want me to carry you?” he whispered.

  “No,” I groaned and shuffled a few steps. I didn’t want the photographers to capture that he had to carry me and give them more reason to create new lies.

  Kyle pushed past Mike and got right into Ryan’s face. “Are you happy, Christensen? Now that one of your fans almost killed her?”

  Mike quickly turned and intervened, blocking Kyle in the chest with his hands. “Hey, back off! Cool it, Kyle!”

  “When is enough enough Taryn?” Kyle cried out. Mike and another guard scuffled with Kyle, pulling him back.

  Ryan turned to deal with Kyle; the anger on Ryan’s face was evident.

  “Ryan?” I breathed out from the pain, diverting his attention back to me. “Honey, just get me inside, please. Please?”

  I wanted Ryan to stay focused and ignore Kyle’s accusations. Having Ryan miserable and brooding would be no help to anyone, especially me. I clutched Ryan’s arm with my hand and leaned into his chest as he carefully led me to the door.

  Ryan was only able to stay with me four more hours before he had to catch a flight and return to the set in Florida. He couldn’t hold up production any longer; this film was a multi-million dollar investment just to shoot. He had already been away for three days.

  It felt like another whole section of my heart was torn away when he left. It didn’t matter that he called me every few hours.

  Ryan’s mom insisted on taking care of me for a few days and Marie was in and out of the apartment twenty times a day as well. I was wondering when they both would get sick of watching me cry. My doctor finally prescribed antidepressants to help me cope.

  Everyone in our inner circle knew that I had lost a baby. It only took three days after my discharge from the hospital for the rest of the world to be informed of the same. The media had a field day when the news broke. Speculation of my pregnancy stemmed from the fact that my room was in the neo-natal wing of the hospital, but then was confirmed by some hospital informants who wished to remain anonymous. Those informants conveniently included the fact that I had lost the baby I was carrying…Ryan Christensen’s illegitimate child.

  Ryan’s Publicist released a statement that stated I was hit by a car while crossing the street and that no one was at fault for the accident. Every branch of the media also ended that same story with a blurb that his reps neither confirm nor deny the pregnancy rumors.

  Marla even made a special phone call to remind me to keep my mouth shut. Well, she didn’t exactly say those words but that was the message she delivered. I was tempted to tell her where she could shove her “public image management.”

  My employees were also given gag orders and were reminded not to speak publicly to anyone about anything.

  It was soon after that when Ryan and I had our first major fight over the phone, and his mom was sitting in the same room with me when it happened.

  “What the hell did you say to Marla?” Ryan barked in my ear. “She informed me that she will no longer be speaking directly to you.”

  “Marla can go to Hell,” I replied. “She’s worthless in my book.”

  “Taryn! She’s my Publicist! I’ve had her for years now.”

  I huffed. “Ryan! She’s so damn worried that I might speak to anyone about my accident but yet she keeps allowing all those rumors about you having an affair with Lauren going? Oh, and what about the reports of you calling Suzanne to cry on her shoulder? I don’t see her doing anything to squelch those lies either so I let her know how I felt.”

  “What is she supposed to do?” he raised his voice to me again.

  “She should do her damn job! She’s supposed to protect your reputation, right? And now she also represents me?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. She can’t stop what’s printed,” he snapped back.

  “Like hell she can’t! It took her no time at all to put out a public statement pretty much shading over the fact that I’m an imbecile who crossed a street without looking both ways, but she doesn’t have anything to say about your supposed affairs? How about a big freaking public statement that says Ryan Christensen is not sleeping with Lauren Delaney or Suzanne Strass?”

  “She won’t do that,” he said flatly. “And don’t you dare ask her to do that either.”

  “Why?” The tears from his betrayal came to my eyes.

  “Because controversy is what’s going to sell tickets.”

  I scoffed. “I can’t believe this! My life, my reputation, they are all up for grabs, but Heaven forbid that we mess with ticket sales!”

  “Taryn, just stop.”

  “No! Screw that. I’m sitting here – banged up – broken – our first child is gone and I have to swallow it all because of ticket sales. You know what Ryan? Fuck you!” I snapped my phone shut.

  His mother’s mouth dropped open but I didn’t care anymore. He just informed me where I rated on his priority list.

  Two minutes later he called back. I hung up on him and then turned my cell phone off. The tears were pouring out of my eyes. The pain in my stomach from my ribs being bruised was no longer stifled by Percocet. I pulled a pillow over top of my ice pack and wept uncontrollably.

  “Taryn, Honey.” His mother tried to console me. “Don’t get yourself so upset.”

  Her cell phone rang.
br />   “I’m not talking to him right now!” I sputtered through my tears.

  “Ryan, you shouldn’t get Taryn upset like this! She needs to heal!” She moved her conversation to my kitchen, but I could still hear her.

  “Son, she lost a baby! You need to be more understanding. She’s in the living room crying her eyes out. She doesn’t need this stress right now. I know Honey – you don’t either.”

  Ellen came back into the living room and held out her phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

  “Tell him to ask Marla what I should say.” I wiped my eyes with my shirtsleeve.

  “Taryn!” She used that stern mother tone with me. That was all I could take.

  I grabbed the end of the couch with my unbroken arm and slid my body to the edge so I could stand up. “Ow,” I cried out, hunching from the pain that rocketed through my body.

  “Just stay sitting,” she reprimanded me.

  “No, I need to stand up,” I grit through my teeth.

  She tried to brace me but there wasn’t a spot on my body that wasn’t bruised or busted. I managed to get my legs underneath me and I slowly straightened up. Ellen held out her phone with Ryan still holding. I took it from her hand.

  “You know, when I was lying in the street, I was so relieved when the paramedics strapped me to that board and finally put me in the ambulance. It meant that I was no longer on display for the paparazzi to take my picture over and over again while I lay there bleeding. Then when the paramedic cut every piece of clothing off my body and I felt like I was being raped, I thought that that was the worst moment of my life.

  “Then when the doctor told us that our child died inside me, I thought that was the worst moment of my life. But to hear that my life has to continue in a circle of lies and pain so that people go to see your movies, it just makes it all worthwhile. Thank you for that.” I snapped her phone shut and handed it back to her. I locked my bedroom door behind me.

  A few hours later Ellen gently knocked on my door. “Taryn, Honey? Are you hungry?”