Little Thumb
Greer
I just wasted my one cup of coffee on that man. What is his problem? Seriously. Do I know him from somewhere else that he reacts so adamantly to seemingly nothing?
Whisking hollandaise works well at relieving some of the stress from my early morning visitor.
How did such a polite boy come from such a deranged man? I don’t need to be thinking about him today. Today is all about the baby growing in my belly. I have an appointment in Urbium with my family doctor. I get to see him again.
Five months is the official date they remove me from high risk if everything goes well.
That is what I should be focusing on. Not the man who was just in my kitchen wearing his pajamas and yelling at me. I shouldn’t have found him at all funny and just a little bit sexy.
Darrel always wore silk pajamas because they’re good for your skin, which is the reason I do as well. But there was something about the way my neighbor looked in a pair of flannel pants and a fitted t-shirt. That shirt was built to show all his muscles and tattoos.
Tattoos shouldn’t be sexy. How many times have I listened to my mother talk about how unflattering tattoos look on a person? How cheap and tawdry they make a woman look? That only lowlifes and people who will amount to nothing ever get tattoos.
Now, if she had said they make a man look sexy as sin, that would have made sense, staring at my neighbor’s muscular arms.
Baby. Today is all about your baby, not your sexy neighbor…grumpy neighbor. I assemble Creed’s sandwich and check my hair before grabbing my purse.
The car should be here to pick me up any minute now.
I’m going to see my baby today and find out if he’s healthy and growing well. Worry floods my mind. Everything has to be fine.
Everything will be fine.
I should have called Winnie or Cordelia…they would have come to hold my hand through this.
No, I’m about to be a single mother. I need to be able to stand on my own, especially for the easy things like this. The birth…I’ll think about that later…much later.
Maybe never.
I step out the door and draw in the wonderful scent of fresh air. It’s going to be odd walking back into the stink of the city again.
“Hey, Greer.” Creed smiles as he walks over. “You look nice this morning.”
Not ready for the pitying glances I’m sure to get, I deflect a bit. “I have plans in the city today.” Those include lunch with my mother. Why I agreed to that I have no idea.
“Oh fun.” He looks around. “Are you driving?”
In the city? “No. I ordered a car.” More like my mother sent one to assure I showed up. Hopefully, she didn’t send one of the limos. Mother doesn’t mind making a statement on occasion.
“Makes sense.”
“Be careful when you eat this. It might be messy. Did your father tell you what it is?” Or that he lost his mind this morning?
“Yeah. He said you made eggs Benedict. He loves eggs Benedict, so I’m really looking forward to it.”
Did he not tell Creed to refuse my food? Or is Creed a bit of a rebel? I really shouldn’t ask, but curiosity is killing me.
Just as I’m about to, a car that can only be for me turns onto my road, slowly pulling to a stop in front of my home. The driver comes around to open the door.
Mother wouldn’t have—She totally would have just to embarrass me. Or to try to convince me to come back to the city. Whatever struck her brain when she remembered that I existed this month.
It’s no longer legal to have an abortion, so she isn’t here to convince me to get rid of the baby, even though she tried that before.
Why would she come to Silent Valley?
Out steps a man’s leg… “Rothswyler,” I whisper to myself.
“Why is your lawyer here?”
That’s a good question. “No idea.”
“Miss Greer.” Rothswyler walks over with a smile on his face and not a single crease in his suit after that long drive.
“Mr. Rothswyler. It’s so nice to see you. Have you met my neighbor, Creed?”
Rothswyler glances over at the boy. “I can’t say I have. My research only mentioned that an upstanding father and son lived next door. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He offers the boy a hand to shake.
Creed doesn’t even blink, returning the shake.
Rothswyler smiles. The kid clearly impressed him. “Are you ready to go, Miss Greer? Traffic is quite challenging at this time of day.”
“I am. Have a nice day at school, Creed.”
He waves, sandwich in hand. “You too.”
The best I can hope for is for it to go without issue.
As I slide into the car, there’s Creed’s father leaning against one of the motorcycles, not even bothering to pretend that he isn’t watching us with anger-filled eyes.
That man is strange.
“Who?”
Opps.
Rothswyler turns to follow my gaze. “Oh dear, he does look unhappy. Do you want me to have a word with him?”
It would serve his grumpy self right if I let Rothswyler have a go at him. “No, he’s just a bit of a grumpy man. We had coffee together this morning.”
“Oh really, Miss Greer?” Is that Rothswyler blushing?
“Not like that. He came over to discuss Creed’s nutritional needs. I suggested my nutritionist provide a meal plan for the boy.”
“Ah…Shall I make those arrangements?”
It’s tempting. “No, I’ll take care of it myself. Did Mother send you to get me?”
“No. I wanted to see how you were settling in, and talk about you moving back to Urbium.”
Do I want to go back? Even with the odd neighborly visits, I’m still liking Silent Valley more than I ever did Urbium.
“Moving isn’t an option at this point. Though I am a bit concerned about when the baby comes.
There doesn’t seem to be a doctor here who specializes in delivering babies.
” Or at least not one who is up to my standards.
Rothswyler shakes his head. “I do wish my brother were still with us. He would have been happy to stay in town to deliver your baby. His protégé is currently working on a government project, but I could reach out if you like.”
It would be so easy to say yes. Since I’ve moved out, life feels different. I stood up to my grumpy neighbor. I took out my own trash. My life feels like it’s changing. “Not yet.” Let me see if I can do it on my own. That feels like it should be my new goal in life.
***
I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done this alone. Tears pour down my face, and I stare at my son’s image on the screen. He’s sucking on his little thumb and smiling at me.
How am I going to do this alone?
How am I going to be enough to give him all that he needs to feel safe and loved? To grow up into a good man when his father is anything but one?
The world just got real, and I have no one by my side to tell me everything is going to be all right.
“Everything looks wonderful, Ms. Hestons. Your son is currently about ten and a half ounces and eight inches long. You’re no longer considered high risk, but we would still recommend continuing to have regular scans.
We would like you to try to gain a few more pounds before your next visit.
You haven’t gained anything since the start of your pregnancy. ”
“Is that why I don’t have a bump yet?” It looks like I’m bloated at best.
“Not necessarily. Women carry different even across pregnancies. Your weight isn’t anything to be concerned about. But it would be good if you could gain a little. I know your mother had a hard time gaining weight during her pregnancies.”
You mean Mother dieted through them but didn’t tell you.
“At your next appointment, we will also check you for gestational diabetes, or you can wear a continuous glucose monitor for two weeks. The choice is yours, just let us know at your next appointment.”
Does anyone ever choose the drink? “I’ll wear the monitor.”
“Good choice. We’ll have the nurse help you set one up at your next appointment. Do you have any questions for us?”
No. Yes. A million, but none that you can answer right now. “No.”
“All right. If you think of any, feel free to reach out at any time. We’re at your disposal. Have you found a doctor yet in Silent Valley for us to coordinate with?”
“No. Not yet.”
“That’s not a problem. We’d be more than happy to set up a team for you there when we get closer to your due date.”
That’s an option. At least I’d know the doctor wasn’t a hack. “That might be an option I’d like to explore.”
“Noted. We’d also like to do some genetic testing in a few more weeks. It isn’t a requirement, but it will give us a clearer picture of your son.”
“Genetic testing?”
“Usually, it checks for rare diseases and syndromes that your child may have. Ours were developed by Dr. Rothswyler many years ago, so they’re a bit more in-depth, as you know. We just like to do everything we can to ensure your child is healthy as he grows.”
They checked the embryo before they implanted it in me. Do I really want to know everything that might be wrong? I fought so hard to have this baby. Every fiber of my being screams no. But the doctors don’t want to hear that. “I’ll think about it.”
But I probably won’t. There are so many other things for me to think about.
Like his sweet little smile. And the dimples on his cheeks.
My son has dimples.
***
“You’re late,” Mother says as I sit down at the table.
The maitre d’ slides in the chair for me, pretending not to have heard a thing. But we both know he’s heard more secrets than most priests do in their whole lives. This man we know will take them to the grave with them. Just like his father did before.
“My appointment ran longer than expected.” I’m barely three minutes late, but even a moment of inconvenience is too much for my mother to handle in silence. “How are you, Mother?”
“Disappointed. You were missed at the fundraiser last night. We could have used your help.”
More like my donation. “Attending all those events just isn’t feasible since I moved.”
“Then move home. It was a foolish idea to move to that hick town in the first place. This is where you belong. Your father is worried.”
No, he isn’t. He doesn’t even know the town where I’m living. If he had been worried, he would have actually come to visit once. “It’s a perfectly safe neighborhood.”
Mother sniffs, but leaves it alone. “We’ve made arrangements for the child to attend the same boarding school as you did. They are now accepting students at the age of five. Your father had to make a donation, but he got the child a spot.”
Five. She wants my son to start boarding school at five. “Thank you, Mother.”
“Of course. Only the best for our grandchild. Did you hear Darrel actually married that woman? She’s practically a child. Everyone is talking about cutting him.”
Talking about and doing are two different things.
“When we had him and his family over for dinner last week…”
Of course, they had my ex over for dinner. I zone out as she talks about every detail of the meal.
Why did I say yes to having lunch with her?
The waiter sets our plates on the table. Mine is a crudité while Mother has sea bass with vegetables and some sauce.
“Did the waiter get our orders wrong?” Because this definitely isn’t a lunch.
“No. That’s what I ordered you. You’re looking a little plump. Pregnancy is no excuse to get fat. How will you find a father for that baby if you let yourself go? I’m going to reach out to your nutritionist again and have her lower your calories.”
What? “Did you ask her to lower them already?”
“Of course. Sometimes I think you don’t understand what it means to be a mother. I’m always looking out for you, even if you don’t think so. As soon as you got pregnant, I had her increase your protein intake but decrease your calories.”
She put me on a diet…
She put me on a diet, and I didn’t even know it.