20. Chapter 20
“So, how far along are you?”
Shocked, I whipped my head up to stare at Dee. “What? Wh-what are you talking about? I’m not—” and I laughed nervously, trying to lie to my coworker—and my new bestie—who apparently had ESP.
“Please,” she said as she sat across from me at O’Brien’s Irish Pub and sipped her beer. “You’ve never not had a drink on our post-work nights out. You’ve been drinking decaf coffee, and you keep touching your stomach. Either you have a mean case of irritable bowel syndrome, or you’re pregnant.”
Shocked, I just stared at her.
Dee and I were enjoying some girl time while Knox was away with his family at a trades convention. He had only been gone two nights, and he would be back the day after next, but we couldn’t stop the texts, phone calls and video chats back and forth.
“So,” Dee said, taking another sip. “Which is it?”
When Dee first started at the paper, I hated her. Well, maybe not hated, but I really didn’t like her. She was garish, and blunt, and the absolute worst person to be at the front office, taking phone calls and handling walk-ins. She had zero customer service skills and even less professionalism, but at some point, I started warming up to her. She always said what she means, does what she wants, and never leaves you wondering where you stand with her. It’s refreshing actually.
I realized Dee was just staring at me. “Well?” She gestured to my stomach.
I bit my lip and nodded slowly.
“I knew it!” She leaped from the high-top, two-person table and came around and embraced me in a big hug.
“It’s still early, and no one, no one, knows yet,” I said.
“Oh my God! So I’m, like, the first to know?!” she squealed, standing next to me as I sat in the high stool, feet curled into the footrest, hands snaked between my knees.
“Yes, and please, please don’t tell anyone!”
She made a zipper motion over her lips, then a “lock and throw away the key” move over her shoulder, and I laughed.
Dee went back around to take her seat. “So,” she said, picking up her beer to take a hearty sip. “Tell me everything. Start from conception. I want to know exactly how you got knocked up. Who was on top?”
Spitting out my water, I said, “Um, oh. Well …”
“Come on, don’t be shy. I’m in a dry spell over here. Give me the goods.”
That had me laughing. I never knew anyone who could speak so freely about sex—and, well, taking a dump, digging out a tampon, and any of the other myriad topics Dee talked about openly with me.
Suddenly feeling grateful to have someone to spill it all to, the floodgates opened.
“Well, actually,” I began, leaning over the table toward her. “I couldn’t tell you exactly when it happened or who was, uh, on top … or bent over the table, or, um, standing up in the shower—”
“Gurrllll!”
“Shhhh!” I shushed Dee, looking around. “It’s just, we’re still in that new-relationship-can’t-keep-our-hands-off-each-other phase. So, yeah, we’ve been … active.”
“I’ll say,” Dee waves her hand and gets the attention of the bartender and signals for another beer. “Go on,” she says, her attention back on me.
“Well, obviously it wasn’t planned.”
“Are you not on the pill?”
I shook my head.
“Do you not believe in condoms?”
I shrugged my shoulders and cringed.
“You are a walking public service announcement.”
“Hey, I thought this was a judgment-free zone!”
Dee threw her hands up in the air. “No judging here! Would you like to hear one of my dirty secrets?”
I thought about that for a second. “Actually, yes. That would make me feel better.”
She tapped her chin, then made an aha face. “I once had a boyfriend that wanted access to my rear door, if you know what I mean.” She gave me a wink. Oh God.
“Anyway, I told him he could only do it to me if I did it to him. So, he said sure. Now, I told him I wasn’t just going to stick one of my little skinny lady fingers up there, I was gonna go for a cucumber or an ear of corn or something. And, to my horror, he said OK.”
She pulled a long gulp of beer from her glass. “So I did.”
I was almost stunned silent. “You used the cucumber?”
“No, the ear of corn.”
I stared at her. “There is something very wrong with that whole story.”
“Excuse me?!” Dee placed her palms flat on the table and leaned in. “I thought this was a judgment-free zone?!”
“Oh, no. I’m definitely judging.”
“Whatever. Let’s just get back to your story.” Dee gave a slight bow of her head in indication that I should go on.
I tried my best to shake off her story and continue. “Anyway, so, I blurted it out to Knox at Thanksgiving at his parents’ house and then he said we should get married—”
Dee spit out her drink. “What?!”
“We went to the doctor together that week and she stuck a wand up my vagina and on the monitor we saw the little circle thing, which apparently holds a baby, and now we’re looking for an apartment together—”
“Hold up!”
“... and I don’t even know how he takes his coffee, and I’ve never been so excited and scared and …”
“... and?”
“... and …”
“Happy?” Dee offered.
“Yes, happy. And …”
“... and?”
I rubbed my chest with the palm of my hand. “And …”
Dee leaned back with a smug look on her face and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“What?” I asked.
She just stared at me.
“Dee! What?”
“Oh, I’m just waiting for the great revelation to hit.”
“What revelation?”
“Girl,” she said, leaning her forearms on the table and looking me dead in the eyes. “You’re in loooove,” she said in a singsong voice.
“Pft,” I waved a hand in front of my face. “Impossible. Like I said, we hardly even know each other. We’re just gonna make it work, for the baby’s sake.”
“Mmhmm …” Dee nodded, staring at me.
“He wants to do the right thing.”
She still stared.
“I mean, this can’t be …”
Still staring.
I rubbed my hand over my chest again. “It’s just …”
“Just … what?”
I let out a breath through puffed cheeks. “I’ve never been so physically uncomfortable in my life. It’s the pregnancy, right? I mean, I thought that came later. Like at month eight or nine? Not at week eight? I’m a mess. I can’t think about anything but Knox, and his stupid hair sticking out of his filthy baseball cap, and his clunky work boots that I trip over every time he comes over and the way he’s always touching me …”
I looked up and saw Dee grinning.
“Oh, shit.” I put a hand to my mouth.
“There it is,” she said, taking a sip of beer. “Oh, shit is right.”
Irony is, that was the night I started to bleed.
At one point I excused myself from Dee to go to the bathroom, and I noticed a tiny amount of spotting, which, as I understood it, can be completely normal during pregnancy. So I ignored it.
Dee and I spent another hour talking about when Knox and I were going to tell our families and how we were going to navigate work and our schedules and childcare. When I got home, there was more than just spotting. I pulled the doctor’s number up on my phone but hesitated. I’m sure it’s fine, I told myself. I felt a little cramping, but figured it was all in my head because I was nervous.
I knew I should call Knox, but I didn’t because I didn’t want to worry him.
As if he could read my mind, a text from him came through.
What’s up, pussycat? Still out with Dee?
Smiling at one of the many feline-related pet names he’d given me, I typed a response to him that wouldn’t let him know anything was wrong.
I see what you did there
???
Trying to sneak obnoxious, offensive language into conversation
???
“Pussy”cat
{gasp} I’m offended
Please
And anyway … you weren’t offended when I used that language in your bed
{sigh} guilty
xoxoxoxoxo
How’s the convention?
Stupid. Utterly pointless. IDK why my dad insists on going to these things
Before I could respond, I was distracted by the unmistakable feeling of wetness between my legs and made a B-line for the bathroom. When I pulled down my pants and underwear, panic set in. I ran to the bedroom and got a new pair of underwear and yoga pants, then ran back into the bathroom to dig around for a pad. Of-fucking-course I was out.I started to sweat. I swear the room got smaller. It was hard to breathe.
I wished Knox were there.
OK, one thing at a time. I wadded up a bunch of toilet paper and stuck it in my underwear, then pulled up my pants, grabbed my purse and phone from the living room, and headed out toward the car. I noticed unread messages from Knox but ignored them as I pulled the doctor’s number back up and hit “call.”
Since it was after-hours, I got a call service, and a very chipper young lad took my information and assured me someone would call me back very soon.
I had already pulled onto the street and as I waited at a red light, I looked at the missed texts from Knox.
How were “drinks” with Dee? You didn’t give our little one his or her first shot, did you?
He added a little laughing face emoji to let me know he was kidding.
A few minutes later he sent an ellipsis.
Damn, I see how it goes. A girls’ night out and the guy gets the cold shoulder
Then another.
No worries, have fun. Just text me when you’re home for the night. Or call me, and I’ll tuck you in {wink face emoji}
A car horn beeped to let me know the light had changed to green.
I surged forward and made my way to the Walgreens down the road, just as a call came through. I answered it as I turned into the lot. “Hello?”
“Hello, Ms. Tanner?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“This is Dr. Agastino, returning your call. I understand you’re having some bleeding, and you are … about eight weeks along?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I said as I navigated the parking lot.
I parked the car and sat in the darkness as I answered all of the doctor’s questions and she told me what I basically already knew: I was likely miscarrying, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. She told me to go into the office first thing the next morning.
Wiping tears off of my face, I hung up the call and headed into the pharmacy. I made my purchase and used the bathroom inside—which only made me panic more. Then I made my way back to the car. I felt bad that I left Knox hanging, and I knew I needed to clue him in.
I needed to tell him he was no longer going to be a father.
It’s funny; I was terrified to tell him I was pregnant. You’d think telling him that was no longer the case would be easier. But I knew everything was about to change.
Again, using that freaking telepathy he seemed to have, my phone rang out as I sat in my running vehicle in the parking lot. I cleared my throat and gathered my courage. “Hey,” I answered, bringing the phone to my ear.
“OK, here’s the thing,” Knox started right in, “you’re going to have to get a little better at responding to my communication. I’m trying not to hound you, but I worry.”
When I was silent, he pressed, “Lizzie?”
When I still didn’t respond, he asked again, “Lizzie? Did I lose you?”
I took a ragged breath, which he must have heard. “OK, baby, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“Knox …” I tried to talk but all the words got stuck in my throat.
I heard rustling on the other end of the phone, then his voice was closer and panicked. “Lizzie, talk to me? Are you still out? Or are you home?”
“I’m in the car. Knox …”
“Did something happen?”
“No. Not at the bar.”
“At work?”
“No,” I sniffled and wiped my nose on my wrist.
There was a pause. “Is it the baby?”
When I could only cry, he continued. “Lizzie, listen to me. Take a breath. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. I’m here with you. I’m here. Are you driving?”
I shook my head, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “No. I’m in the parking lot of the pharmacy. I had to get pads.” I let that sink in for a minute as he remained mute on the other end of the line.
“I’m bleeding, Knox. I called the doctor, and she said … well, she said it’s very possible we’re, I’m …”
I swear I could hear him gulp through the phone line. “I’m coming home,” he said. And there was more rustling. “I’m coming now.”
“I was spotting, and then I was bleeding heavily, and the doctor said there’s nothing we can do, but …” I was sobbing, and I’d be surprised if Knox could even understand what I was saying.
“I’m here,” was all he said. I could hear the beep of a vehicle and the roar of an engine.
“Knox, don’t. You’re like—”
“It’ll take me six hours to drive. I’m coming to you.”
There was silence. “Lizzie?”
“Knox, I’m scared!” It came out loud and frightened and muffled in a sob.
“It’s OK, baby, I’m right here. I’m not hanging up. I’ll be here the whole time. Just breathe.”
I tried to suck air into my strangled throat and lungs, and as if he could hear it, Knox cooed, “That’s good. Take another breath.”
I closed my eyes and imagined his arms around me. Swaying. Dancing. I wanted nothing more at that moment. “Are you in any pain?” his voice came through the phone.
“No. Well, a little cramping, but not much.”
I was still sitting in the running car and decided to head home. As I navigated the turns, listening to Knox do the same, I couldn’t tell the difference between what was my clicking turn signal or his. Then eventually I heard a hum that indicated he was picking up speed.
“Are you on the highway now?” I asked him.
“Yeah, just getting on. GPS says I should be there by about five-thirty.”
“Knox, you can’t drive through the night. You’re gonna pass out.”
After a second, he said, “Believe me, I’m not going to fall asleep right now.”
“Right. That was kind of stupid,” I said. “Tell me about the convention. Your dad. Bram … Tell me anything. Distract me.”
I heard him let out a breath, then Knox started in on a story about new material being used to insulate bigger commercial buildings. He talked me through my drive home and back to my apartment. I changed my pad, which was soaked through. He asked me again if I was in any pain. Then we moved on to my sister, who I decided not to call, since she didn’t even know I was pregnant. We talked about my job, and anything to keep the time moving until he could get to me.
Sometime around three in the morning he told me he had to stop to gas up. When he heard me yawn, he suggested I try to get some sleep.
“No, I have to keep you company on the phone so you don’t fall asleep,” I told him.
“I’m OK,” he said. “I’ll listen to music. I’ll open the window. Anyway, I just have like two more hours to go. Just close your eyes, and when you open them, I’ll be there.”
I had been curled up on my bed for about an hour. I pulled the covers up over my shoulder and up to my chin. “Knox?”
“Yeah, Lizzie?”
“I’m scared.”
He let out a breath. “I know. Me too. I’ll be there soon.”
True to his word, I woke up a few hours later to Knox rolling me from my side and into his arms.
The next morning the doctor got us right in and when she did an ultrasound it revealed what we already knew. We had lost the baby.
Knox was stoic. He held my hand, smoothed my hair, and took in all the doctor had to say about how it wasn’t my fault, these things happen, and we could try again as soon as we wanted.
Ha!As if we tried for this baby in the first place. I would have laughed out loud if my heart wasn”t broken.
On the drive home, I was quiet. Knox kept trying to get me to talk, asking if I wanted to tell my sister and mom so I had someone else to talk to, but the only talking I had to do was with him, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. But I thought we might as well get this clusterfuck over with so it could just be one big ugly, terrible day, and not dragged out.
When Knox pulled his truck into the parking lot at my apartment building, he found a spot and shut off the engine.
I tried to sound nonchalant as I picked my purse up off the floor and reached for the door handle. “I’m just gonna take a shower and hang out until I go to work later. You don’t have to stick around.”
“The fuck?” he said, sounding flabbergasted. “You’re not going to work today! And of course, I’m coming in. You think I’m just going to drop you off?” He reached for his door handle, but I put my hand on his knee.
“Knox, look, there’s nothing we can do, and I don’t want to just sit around staring at each other, OK? Maybe if we each just go to work and think about something else, it’ll do us both good.”
He looked down at my hand, covered it with his, squeezed it, then opened his door and got out of the truck. He came around to my side as I was hopping down, grabbed my free hand and led me to my apartment. I let go of his hand as I fumbled in my purse for my keys, then opened the door, and we both stepped in.
The apartment opened right up into the living room, and Knox tossed his keys on the coffee table and marched over to the bathroom without taking off his boots or hoodie. “I’ll start the water for you. You want to take a shower or a bath?” he asked.
“You don’t have to, Knox.”
“I know I don’t. I want to,” he said from the bathroom, as he started the shower. “It’s warming up,” he said as he came back out into the living room, where I had toed out of my shoes. He came up to me, cautiously. When he got to me, he slowly reached up with one hand and cupped my jaw, and I allowed myself to lean into it.
Just this once. Just one last time,I told myself. “Knox—”
“Don’t,” he said, placing his other hand on my hip and gently pulling me with both hands so we were forehead-to-forehead, pelvis to pelvis. I rested my hands on his chest. “Don’t push me away right now, Lizzie.”
“I’m not, Knox. I just … Look, this whole thing has been a whirlwind.”
“What thing? You mean us?”
“Yes! Us. Our relationship! We went from fucking to having a baby and getting married in a nanosecond, and now we have a moment to step back and reassess—”
“Reassess?!” Knox pulled back enough to look down at me, a war raging in his eyes.
“Yes.”
“First of all, we were never just fucking. At least I wasn’t. And second of all, this isn’t just about you. Maybe I do want to sit and stare at each other today. Maybe I want to be here with you and cry and hold you. And third, I don’t want to reassess. I like our assessment right where it goddamn is!”
I tried to push away from him, but he held me solidly, my hip in one hand, my face in the other. He crushed his mouth to mine and tried to kiss me, but I wriggled away from him. “Knox, no!”
He dropped his hands and backed away. “OK. OK, I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’m sorry, baby. You need space? I get it. Go take a shower, and I’ll hang out here.”
The steam coming from the bathroom started to filter into the apartment.
“No, Knox. I need more than that,” I said, looking down at my hands as I continued to back away from him.
He ran his hands through his hair and turned away from me before inhaling and exhaling a huge breath and resting his hands on his hips, then turning back to me. “OK. So, what are we talking about? You want me to head back to Bram’s and call you later?”
Just cut the cord, Lizzie, set him free. I squared my shoulders at him. “No, Knox. I want you to go back to the apartmentyou still rent with Bram.”
“And?”
“And … I don’t know.”
He came toward me again and when I put my hands up, he stopped mid-stride. “Lizzie, what is this?”
When I didn’t look at him, he shouted, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, LIZZIE?!” It made me jump.
Biting the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t cry, I snapped at him. “Oh, come on, Knox. Don’t tell me you aren’t relieved!”
He let out a guttural sound and tore at his hair with both hands. “How can you fucking say that?!”
The tears I tried to hold at bay fell freely. “Look, Knox. I so appreciate you wanted to do the right thing. And if this hadn’t happened, we probably could have been happy. But, well, it’s over, and that’s OK. It was never meant to be. We can both go back to our lives.”
Eyes red-rimmed, cheeks flushed, mouth gaping, Knox rubbed his fist over his chest. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. “Lizzie, what are you doing to me? Why are you doing this?”
Unable to look at him, I scrambled into the bathroom so full of steam, I could barely see in front of my face, and I slammed the door behind me. With the air so thick, it was nearly impossible for me to gulp in air. Silently, I choked on my sobs. I heaved them without making a sound. Shoulders shaking, stomach caving in on itself, I curled in, grabbing my core, and sunk down the door.
“Lizzie,” I heard Knox’s voice, faintly, calmly, on the other side. “Baby, open up. I’m not leaving here until you open up.”
Don’t do this, Knox. Just go. Don’t make me do this.
“I need you to open this door. Look me in the eyes.” I heard him sniff and a crater opened up in my chest. “Is this it? Are we over?”
My hands clenched in fists as I doubled over myself, I choked on silent sobs as the tears swept my face. Snot dripping down my upper lip.
Just leave, Knox. Don’t make me say it.
“I love you, Lizzie,” I heard his voice right at the level I was at, which meant he was squatting down where he knew I had settled on the floor. “If you’re going to honestly say you don’t want to be with me anymore, at least open up the door and tell me. Let me look at you one last time.”
Gutted, with nothing left but a hope if I crushed him with one final blow we could both one day walk away from the damage, I pulled myself off the floor, wiped my tears and snot with my bare hands, and opened the door.
Knox shot up from his crouch and his face fell when he saw me. “Lizzie—”
“I don’t love you, Knox,” I looked him right in the eye as I slaughtered him. “I’m sorry. I loved the idea of us being a family, but it’s over.”
Tears slid down both sides of his face, which he tried to wipe away on his shoulders. “Damn,” he said, eerily calm. “People say this hurts, but you really have no idea until it happens.” Then looking at me, into me, through me, he said, in the most mournful, broken voice. “I just lost my entire family, my entire future, in one night.”
Letting a sob escape, I raised a hand to reach out to him but stopped myself. “Knox, I never—”
Without warning, he stormed me, took my face in his hands, and seared me with his eyes. “I’m all in,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’ll be here. Right where you’ve left me. Whenever you decide to come back to me, I’ll be here waiting for you. Always.” Chasing away my tears with his thumbs, he brushed the sweetest, softest kiss across my lips, then let go of me and stormed out of my apartment.
And I let the pain swallow me whole as I fell to the floor.
I just lost my family, too.