An Unforeseen Turn of Events

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Christine wobbled out of the studio lot in a daze. When people involved in the production spotted her leaving, they thought either she was having a nervous breakdown or was drunk. They couldn't say or do anything but stop and stare.

Her face was tear-stained and pale, her eyes glazed over. She ran out and continued running until the wave of traffic surrounding her on Melrose Avenue slowed her movements. It was the lunch hour and the streets were jammed with cars of all makes and styles. As car horns honked and people were shouting at her, Christine felt she were looking through a kaleidoscope—her vision was blurred and her surroundings appeared twisted, not quite real.

Was she dreaming? In the middle of a nightmare?

She hobbled to an abandoned lot and threw up. Again and again.

Her head and joints throbbed. She feared she would never stop throwing up.

Christine had never experienced a headache like this one. She rubbed her temples, took in deep breaths. Nothing worked.

Before she could even contemplate her future, she had to get rid of the pain so she could function again. Her eyes welled with tears as she tried navigating her way to the bus stop.

Clutching her head with her hands and walking bent over as if she needed a cane, she continued moving forward. She could not even think about where to pick up the bus to go back home.

When she managed to get back to the busy street, people stared at her as she walked as if she were a curiosity from a circus.

A woman draped in black approached her and ask, "Child, do you need help?"

Christine's eyes traveled in the woman's direction and she saw her flowing black robes. Her head rose as much as she could to see that this woman was a nun. Her body was completely covered except her round, ruddy face and her thick hands. The nun was elderly and behind her rimless spectacles were eyes that stared intently with tenderness and concern at Christine. Even while experiencing relentless pain in her head, Christine could see that the nun was focused on her and nothing else mattered.

"There's a hospital a few blocks from here," the nun spoke again. "Let me help you get there."

Slowly taking Christine by the arm, she added, "Whatever happened to you, believe it or not, you're going to get through it. This will not break you, I promise."

Unable to bear the agony, Christine allowed herself to be led, convinced an angel from heaven came down to help her.

Gently holding Christine's arm, she led her to the receptionist and explained how she had found her.

"Dear, who can I contact to help you?" the nun gently inquired.

Christine was able to recite her parent's work numbers before she said, "I think I have to throw up again."

"She needs a plastic bag," the nun told the receptionist. She still held Christine's arm and appeared unruffled. "Don't you worry, dear. Don't you worry about a thing. We've all seen vomit before. It's how we rid the body of toxins.

The woman led her to the seats in the waiting area. Christine sat down with her hands still clutching her head. Someone put an open plastic bag in front of her. She heaved and tried to throw up again but nothing would come up yet. The pain in front of her head was so intense she felt like she was going to fall over and start crawling around like an animal screaming if the pain continued to throb at this rate.

Fortunately, she was able to throw up three times.

"That's it, dear. Now you'll feel better," the nun rubbed her back. "Now you're going to start feeling better. The worst is over."