Someone sent me this link: Scott Shepherd Hit My Friend and I’m sorry, I don’t remember who sent it to me, but it’s worth reading. It’s a perfect example of how society punishes women for their abuse.
In this link, Laci Green describes the differences between a healthy relationship and a not healthy relationship. NSFW, language wise.
And Yahoo! has everything under control, kinksters (many folks sent me this link) BDSM practitioners aren’t mentally ill: study. Basically, rest easy, you’re not into kink
When we last left Ana, she had just gotten a call saying her father was in the hospital.
“Mr. Rodriguez, what’s happened?” My voice is hoarse and thick with unshed tears. Ray. Sweet Ray. My dad.
I love it when the first lines of a chapter are super clumsy.
Ray has been in a car accident, and he’s been transfered to a hospital in Portland:
Portland? What the hell is he doing in Portland?
Yeah, why didn’t they take him to Seattle Grace?
“I hope he’s okay. Don’t worry about anything here. We’ll muddle through.”
Keeping in mind that Ana has worked there all of three months, three weeks of which she was on her honeymoon, is she really that integral to daily operations? Or by “muddle through” does Hannah mean, “We’ll somehow manage to make it through our days without your husband dropping by to cause a scene and interrupt us all?”
The concern etched on her pinched, pale face is almost my undoing.
Even in crisis, Ana can think of the most unflattering adjectives possible to describe another woman.
Ana orders Sawyer to take her to Portland. This is how it goes down:
“We’re going to Portland- now.”
“Okay, ma’am,” he says, frowning, but opens the door.
Moving is good.
“Mrs. Grey,” Sawyer asks as we race toward the parking lot. “Can I ask why we’re making this unscheduled trip?”
“It’s my dad. He’s been in an accident.”
“I see. Does Mr. Grey know?”
“I’ll call him from the car.”
Compare this to Ana’s interaction with Prescott in the chapter before, and earlier in the book when she goes out for drinks with Kate. Prescott fought with Ana over seeing Leila and going out with Kate, and ultimately she was fired when Ana did what she wanted to do. Ana just told Sawyer she’s making an unscheduled trip to another state, and he’s like, “Yes, ma’am.” There is no chance of him getting fired, because he’s a white male. And you might be thinking, “But Jenny, this is an emergency, her father is in the hospital.” To you, I say, “This is Christian Fucking Grey. Why wouldn’t he fire someone for driving Ana out of state without his express permission, even in an emergency? He only wants to keep her safe.”
Ana tries to call Christian, but she gets his assistant, instead. She leaves a message and then he calls her immediately back, so… what was the point of a page-long conversation with his assistant? Why did we have to read that? She doesn’t have any ECIF (external conflict/internal feelings) about not being able to reach Christian, it has nothing to do with the plot, but we had to read it because E.L. is, at this point, bored of writing this story and she’s adding unneeded shit to pad out her word count.
Ana talks to Christian and tells him her father has been in an accident and she’s heading to Portland. Christian is going to fly there to meet her, but he can’t come for about three hours:
Oh shit. Charlie Tango is back in commission and the last time Christian flew her…
“I have a meeting with some guys over from Taiwan. I can’t blow them off. It’s a deal we’ve been hammering out for months.”
Why do I know nothing about this?
Do we really need an answer here? Ana, you didn’t know your husband had a list of people your security team was supposed to forbid you from seeing. Why would he tell you jack or shit about his business?
PS. Christian could have just said, “I’ll meet you in three hours,” but he had to be sure to mention flying. For a moment there, Ana was almost worried about someone other than Christian, which is obviously unacceptable.
After hanging up, I hug my knees once more. I know nothing about Christian’s business. What the hell is he doing with the Taiwanese?
Ana knows nothing about his business, but she somehow finds it odd or incongruous that he would be working with a company from Taiwan? Why do we even have this thought in here? Shouldn’t she be more concerned about the fact that her father has been airlifted somewhere after a horrible accident?
He must fly safely. My stomach knots anew and nausea threatens. Ray and Christian. I don’t hink my heart could take that. Leaning back, I start my mantra again: Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay.
We all know she’s talking about Christian and not her dad now, right?
After a section break, they arrive at OHSU:
My mind flits back to my last visit to OHSU, when, on my second day, I fell off a stepladder at Clayton’s, twisting my ankle. I recall Paul Clayton hovering over me and shudder at the memory.
Now, we remember that Paul asked Ana out and she wasn’t in to him. Maybe it’s because it’s been a year since I read the first book, but was he really like, so creepy and bad that you wouldn’t want him to help you if you twisted your ankle? And hey, Ana, maybe he was hovering over you because you were a brand new employee and he was worried you’d sue his family business. But either way, this paragraph is stuck in here to remind us that Ana has never, ever had naughty down there feelings for any man other than Christian, and men are able to form intense and creepy obsessions with Ana in a mere two days. This is important to remember, because in the OR waiting room, she runs into José:
“Ana!” Mr. Rodriguez gasps. His arm is in a cast, and his cheek is bruised on one side. He’s in a wheelchair with one of his legs in a cast, too. I gingerly wrap my arms around him.
If you’re having a hard time picturing this totally original, wheelchair bound character, allow me to provide some help:
José gently strokes my hair. I wrap my arms around his neck and softly weep. We stand like this for ages, and I’m so grateful that my friend is here. We pull apart when Sawyer joins us in the waiting room.
Because he’ll inform on you to your husband. At this point, Sawyer mumbles into his headset, “She touched another man, sir. Should we initiate protocol Othello?” No, just kidding, that doesn’t happen. But let’s be honest here, we all know it could.
José holds up his hands to halt my barrage of questions and sits down beside me. “We don’t have any news. Ray, Dad, and I were on a fishing trip to Astoria. We were hit by some stupid fucking drunk- “
Mr. Rodriguez tries to interrupt, stammering an apology.
“Cálmate, Papa,” José snaps. “I don’t have a mark on me, just a couple of bruised ribs and a knock on the head. Dad… well, Dad broke his wrist and ankle. But the car hit the passenger side and Ray.”
Oh no, no… Panic swamps my limbic system again.
I get that Ana is supposed to be really, super smart, but how many times does the average person, in the middle of a serious emotional crisis, think, “My hippocampus is totally doing [x] right now?”
Ana is freezing, so José gives her his jacket and Sawyer gets her some tea:
Sawyer reenters, bearing a paper cup of hot water and a separate tea bag. He knows how I take my tea!
…made out of hot water and a tea bag? I don’t…
We wait… and wait. Mr. Rodriguez with his eyes closed, praying I think, and José holding my hand and squeezing it every now and then. I slowly sip my tea. It’s not Twinings, but some cheap nasty brand, and it tastes disgusting.
Like Twinings is the most posh and exclusive tea brand that there is? I’m dying. Twinings is like three dollars a box.
I remember the last time I waited for news. The last time I thought all was lost, when Charlie Tango went missing.
The tea was better then. It was rich people tea.
Closing my eyes, I offer up a silent prayer for the safe passage of my husband. I glance at my watch. 2:15 p.m. He should be here soon. My tea is cold… Ugh!
The order of storytelling importance in this chapter is:
- Tea
- Whether or not Christian gets in another helicopter crash
- Ray might die
Sorry, Ray. It’s hard to compete with those one and two slots.
Christian strides in. His face darkens momentarily when he notices my hand in José’s.
Really, Chedward? Really? You think she’s trolling for a piece of ass in the hospital waiting room while her dad is fighting for his life? Way not trust your wife. What makes this even worse is, Ana doesn’t even think, “Wow, I can’t believe he really think I would cheat on him when my father is being operated on? What kind of person does he think I am?” She thinks:
Then I’m wrapped in his arms, his nose in my hair, and I’m inhaling his scent, his warmth, his love. A small part of me feels calmer, stronger, and more resilient because he’s here. Oh, the difference his presence makes to my peace of mind.
So, there’s that.
José introduces Christian to Mr. Rodriguez:
“Mr. Rodriguez- we met at the wedding. I take it you were in the accident, too?”
No, Christian, the wheelchair and casts are his Halloween costume, he thought he’d wear them to the hospital to see how convincing they were.
Once Christian has been filled in on the details of the accident, it’s time to continue with his unchecked insecurity over Ana’s friendship with José:
“Have you eaten?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Are you hungry?”
I shake my head.
“But you’re cold?” he asks, eyeing José’s jacket.
I nod. He shifts in his chair, but wisely says nothing.
That’s right. He’s subtly letting Ana know how upset he is to have found her associating with José without his permission. So, I’m guessing we know at least one name on that “proscribed list.”
A doctor comes in to update Ana on her father’s condition:
“You’re his next of kin?” the doctor asks. His bright blue eyes almost match his scrubs, and under any other circumstances I would have found him attractive.
“I’m his daughter, Ana.”
“Miss Steele-“
“Mrs. Grey,” Christian interrupts him.
“My apologies,” the doctor stammers, and for a moment I want to kick Christian.
Welcome to the club, Ana. Not the Sub Club, just the club of people who want to cause bodily harm to Christian Grey. Seriously, sit down, little boy. This is not about you.
“He’s suffered severe internal injuries,” Dr. Crowe says, “principally to his diaphragm, but we’ve managed to repair them, and we were able to save his spleen. Unfortunately, he suffered a cardiac arrest during the operation because of blood loss. We managed to get his heart going again, but this remains a concern. […]”
No shit? His heart stopping is a concern? I never would have guessed. Also, excuse me, but if he was in that much danger of bleeding out, why did they attempt to save his spleen? If it were damaged and bleeding and he was that bad off, a surgeon would just take it out. In fact, until recently, a surgeon wasn’t going to try and save your punctured spleen at all.
Here’s another thing I don’t understand- and if there are any trauma doctors or surgeons who read this blog, or medical school students or what have you, feel free to correct me on this stuff, I’m not a doctor- but if they were taken to the hospital in Astoria first, wouldn’t they have treated the massive internal bleeding themselves to stabilize him, then sent him via helicopter to OHSU? It seems like peritoneal lavage would have been performed when Charlie Ray first came into the ER, and with a ruptured or punctured spleen they would have had to act fast. Dr. Crowe goes on to tell Ana that her father has a closed head injury, something that could have necessitated a transfer to a larger hospital, but it just seems sketch to me that they’d put someone with abdominal bleeding that bad in a helicopter and fly them to another hospital.
“And what’s the prognosis?” Christian asks coolly.
“Mr. Grey, it’s difficult to say at the moment. It’s possible he could make a complete recovery, but that’s in God’s hands now.”
I would be so mad if a doctor ever said that to me. Not just because I hate the default “of course everyone believes in God,” but because it sounds like they’re saying, “Well… basically… done here. Don’t have a lot of interest in… you know. Saving your loved one. Let’s just see what happens.”
Ana gets permission to go see Ray, and Christian offers Sawyer’s driving services to José and Mr. Rodriguez. Before they leave, José and Ana have a tender goodbye:
“Stay strong, Ana,” José whispers in my ear. “He’s a fit and healthy man. The odds are in his favor.”
I hug him hard. Then, releasing him, I shrug off his jacket and hand it back to him.
“Keep it, if you’re still cold.”
“No, I’m okay. Thanks.” Glancing nervously up at Christian, I see that he’s regarding us impassively. Christian takes my hand.
Then he lifts his leg and pees on her, just in case all the other men in the hospital don’t realize that she belongs to him.
And with that they leave. Christian and I are alone. He caresses my cheek. “You’re pale. Come here.” He sits down on the chair and pulls me onto his lap, folding me into his arms again, and I go willingly. I snuggle up against him, feeling oppressed by my stepfather’s misfortune, but grateful that my husband is here to comfort me. He gently strokes my hair and holds my hand.
“How was Charlie Tango?” I ask.
He grins. “Oh, she was yar,” he says, quiet pride in his voice. It makes me smile properly for the the first time in several hours, andI glance at him, puzzled.
“Yar?”
“It’s a line from The Philadelphia Story. Grace’s favorite film.”
“I don’t know it.”
“I think I have it on Blu-Ray at home. We can watch it and make out.”
Her dad is in a coma.
What’s the point of introducing a quirky new phrase for a character two thirds of the way through the third and final (oh god, I pray it is the final) book? Just to fill space? So he can impress Ana with his knowledge of old movies? Why did this scene feel like a good fit here? Was any of this information needed by the reader at all?
No? It’s just a self-indulgent crapfest, you say? All right, then, carry on.
Christian tells Ana about the Taiwanese shipyard he’s just purchased. It’s cheaper to build ship hulls in Taiwan. But what about the shipyard and the workers he already has in the states?
“We’ll redeploy. We should be able to keep redundancies to a minimum.” He kisses my hair.
Oh baby, talk some more of that sexy talk about shipping American jobs overseas. It gets me all hot and squirmy to think of you two fucking idiots rolling around in a bed covered in money and your love juices while some blue collar shipyard worker gets told he’s a redundancy and ends up moving his family of four out of their foreclosed house and into a two bedroom apartment.
But enough with Christian’s business, let’s go into the ICU to see Ray. He’s in a bad way. I won’t quote the whole description, but he’s on a ventilator, he’s got a cast on one leg, and his chest is covered in a big bandage. This is all very disturbing to Ana, but not so disturbing that she can’t notice a few key details about the situation:
“A petite young nurse stands to one side, checking his monitors.
“Can I touch him?” I ask her, tentatively reaching for his hand.
“Yes.” She smiles kindly Her badge says KELLIE RN, and she must be in her twenties. She’s blonde with dark, dark eyes.
Ana. Your father is in a coma. Do you really need to point out to us that his nurse is not a natural blonde?
Okay, okay. I’m caught. I’m criticizing something that is actually a crucial plot detail, because you see, just a few lines later, this happens:
“All Mr. Steele’s vitals are good,” Nurse Kellie says quietly.
“Thank you,” Christian murmurs. I glance up in time to see her gape. She’s finally gotten a good look at my husband. I don’t care. She can gape at Christian all she likes as long as she makes my father well again.
See, we know that Kellie is no threat to Ana right now because she’s not a natural blonde. If E.L. hadn’t included the description of Kellie’s blonde hair and dark eyes, we would never have known that her blonde beauty was artifice, and we, the vapid, shallow readership of this crap, would have been more concerned with the possibility of yet another evil!blonde ruining Ana’s perfect fairy tale happiness. You know, instead of worrying about the dude in the bed in the coma.
“Can he hear me?” I ask.
“He’s in a deep sleep. But who knows?”
Nurses do. Nurses know that coma patients can hear what’s going on around them. I worked in an ICU/NCU, and I heard nurses every day telling people to talk to their loved ones, because they could hear them, or turning on the television so the people in the coma had noise to listen to. And this isn’t some big mystery or anything; people who have been in comas often report that they were aware of what was happening around them.
“Can I sit for a while?”
“Sure thing.” She smiles at me, her cheeks pink from a telltale blush. Incongruously, I find myself thinking blonde is not her true color.
No, Ana, that’s not incongruous. You often think jealous, bitter, and uncharitable thoughts about other women and their appearances. Who do you think you’re fooling here?
Christian goes out to make a phone call, while Ana stays with Ray and talks to him:
Very quietly, so as not to disturb anyone, I tell him about our weekend in Aspen and about last weekend when we were soaring and sailing aboard The Grace. I tell him about our new house, our plans, about how we hope to make it ecologically sustainable. I promise to take him to Aspen so he can go fishing with Christian and assure him that Mr. Rodriguez and José will both be welcome, too.
Worst. Coma. Ever. Can you imagine being unable to wake up, move your body, speak, but you have to listen to Anastasia Rose Steele talk to you? I would suggest they make a Twilight Zone episode about it, but I’m sure E.L. would just see Twilight in the title and plagiarize that, too. Plus, Ana is lying to this poor man; there’s no way in hell José is ever going to Aspen with them.
After a while, Christian suggests they check into a hotel so Ana can rest and stay close to the hospital. Gosh, I wonder where they’ll go?
The suite at the Heathman looks just as I remember it. How often have I thought about that first night and morning I spent with Christian Grey? I stand in the entrance to the suite, paralyzed. Jeez, it all started here.
Yeah, three long, long months ago, when your dreamy romance boyfriend kidnapped you from a night out with your friends and brought your unconscious body here and put you in his bed. He is truly Prince Charming.
“Do you want a shower? A bath? What do you need, Ana?” Christian gazes at me, and I know he’s rudderless- my lost boy dealing with events beyond his control. He’s been withdrawn and contemplative all afternoon. This is real life in the raw, and he’s kept himself from that for so long, he’s exposed and helpless now. My sweet, sheltered Fifty Shades.
I’m glad Ana is concentrating on the most important part of this whole ordeal with her father being on deaths’ door: how Christian is handling it and whether or not he’s able to fulfill his yearning for absolute control. Because I totally care about that psychopath’s internal struggle right now.
“Oh, Ana,” Christian murmurs. “I’ve not seen you like this. You’re normally so brave and strong.”
No she isn’t.
They go to take a bath together, and Ana asks Christian if he got in the bathtub with Leila when he bathed her after her breakdown. He says he didn’t, and then Ana asks how long he’s going to support Leila.
“Until she’s on her feet. I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Why?”
“Are there others?”
“Others?”
“Exes who you support.”
“There was one, yes. No longer though.”
“Oh?”
“She was studying to be a doctor. She’s qualified now and has someone else.”
WELL THANK GOD FOR THAT. CAN’T HAVE ALL THOSE UNMATED FEMALES RUNNING AROUND ALL WILLY-NILLY WITH THEIR DEGREES AND SELF-RELIANCE.
“Leila says you have two of her paintings,” I whisper.
“I used to. I didn’t really care for them. They had technical merit, but they were too colorful for me. I think Elliot has them As we know, he has no taste.”
I giggle, and he wraps his other arm around me, sloshing water over the side of the bath.
“That’s better,” he whispers and kisses my temple.
“He’s marrying my best friend.”
“Then I’d better shut my mouth,” he says.
Christian is being a good partner by distracting Ana with her favorite subject: dissing other women. Ana should be feeling a lot better about herself and her dad’s situation now.
After a section break there is a pointless scene in which Christian gripes about Paul at Clayton’s having a crush on Ana, because that is just unacceptable that any man laid eyes on her before Christian Grey came along, then there is another section break. In another pointless section, Ana and Christian talk about how young Ana looks and how she’s going to be a year older the next day, and then Christian tries to get her to eat again, but she just wants to go back to the hospital.
Remember how I said before that these recaps would get shorter because not much was happening in the book? It is super evident in this chapter. The weird thing is, there’s almost too much plot happening at any one time in the storyline, but there still is nothing happening now. Which means that when the plot actually does happen, it will be wrapped up with unrealistic speed. So if you’ve been really concerned and worried that the book might get unexpectedly good and there will be nothing to be angry over or to mock, don’t worry. That definitely does not happen.
Christian and Ana go back to the ICU so Ana can say goodnight to her father. José is there, visiting, but he’s just about to leave:
José eyes Christian quickly, then pulls me into a brief hug. “Mañana.”
“I’M MEXICAN!” José screams, pulling a sombrero and serape out of no where before playing a jaunty tune with his Tejano band.
“He’s still nuts about you,” Christian says quietly.
“No he’s not. And even if he is… ” I shrug because right now I just don’t care.
“And even if he is… it doesn’t matter, because you’ve put your tiny golden shackle on me, and I’ll be your prisoner forever.”
Isn’t it amazing how we’re all reading this book where we’re rooting for the heroine to end up with the guy who was basically going to date rape her in the first book of the series? Because compared to the guy she’s actually with, he seems like the best option? What the fuck, world?
“Well done,” I murmur.
He frowns.
“For not frothing at the mouth.”
We’re giving him praise for not causing a scene at her possibly dying father’s beside over his petty insecurities. DREEEEEAAAAAM MAN.
Not a lot happens in this hospital visit, except Christian has had his mother and a Dr. Sluder, an “expert in her field,” come to evaluate Ray’s condition. Dr. Sluder assures Ana that her father will be okay. We don’t learn what Dr. Sluder’s field is. For all we know, it’s farming mushrooms or building yurts or something.
After a section break, we’re back at the Heathman, and Ana and Christian are going to bed.
We’re not going to make love? And I’m relieved. In fact, he’s had a totally hands-off approach with me all day. I wonder if I should be alarmed by this turn of events, but since my inner goddess has left the building and taken my libido with her, I’ll think about it in the morning.
Sign #2,598,390 that this is not a healthy relationship: you should never have to wonder if the person you’re with is mad at you for not having sex with them during a tragedy.
“Promise me you’ll eat something tomorrow. I can just about tolerate you wearing another man’s jacket without frothing at the mouth, but, Ana… you must eat. Please.”
Ah, sign #2,598,391, right on schedule.
“Thank you for being here,” I mumble and sleepily kiss his chest.
“Where else would I be? I want to be wherever you are, Ana. Being here makes me think of how far we’ve come. And the night I first slept with you. What a night that was. I watched you for hours. You were just… yar,” he breathes.
Why is this coming up again? Is this a thing they’re going to be saying now? Like “Laters, baby?” Because I may have reached my threshold of tolerance for these morons saying stupid shit.
“Sleep,” he murmurs, and it’s a command. I close my eyes and drift.
Every time I end a chapter with characters going to sleep or begin a chapter with them waking, I think about these books and I feel so, so ashamed.
That’s it for this thrilling chapter, that was not in any way at all a means to stretch a third book out of what was originally a two-story series to bilk readers for more money.