22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Meg
P izza, beer, and the UW Badgers on a big-screen TV was my idea of a fantastic way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Mike and I did the wave, we sang all the game-time songs, like Fireflies and Sweet Caroline. Both of us knew the words to the fight song, and by the nail-biting end of the fourth quarter, we were on our feet, jumping up and down, shouting at the tops of our lungs.
The game was tied, we had the ball on the opponent’s thirty-eight yard line, there were three seconds left, and our kicker was jogging out onto the field.
I covered my face in my hands. “I can’t bear to watch.”
“Come on,” Mike urged. “At least if he misses, we’ll go into overtime.”
“But I don’t want to go into overtime. It’s Ohio State. They always pull something out of their asses at the last minute, and I want to annihilate them!”
He put his arm around my shoulders. “We’ll watch together, okay?”
I opened my fingers. “Okay.”
I held my breath as the ball snapped. The place kicker moved forward and gave it a cannon of a kick. Cringing, I leaned into Mike as it looked like the ball was going wide.
“He made it!” shouted the announcer.
“Wooooo!” Mike and I faced each other, our eyes round, jumping up and down, grabbing hands and going utterly insane!
“We did it!” I shouted, throwing my arms around him.
He spun me in a circle. “We sure did!”
Setting me down, we both shimmied with a little dance and fell into each other’s arms. “That was amazing.”
“My God, it had to be the most exciting game of the year.”
I rose up onto my toes and kissed him. “So exciting. ”
He cupped my cheek, his eyes suddenly serious, and damned sexy. Slowly, he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me. Kissed me like we were the only two people left on the planet, starving for affection.
My ovaries went on hyperdrive while I slid my hands around him. Up and down his back. To his butt.
Oh, my God, he had a tight ass. I pulled his hips closer and rubbed against his erection.
Mike rested his forehead against mine. “Are you okay?”
I tugged his red sweatshirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. “More than okay.”
He kissed me again. “That was epic.”
I took his hand and led him downstairs—straight to the king-sized bed I wanted to test. “Know what else will be epic?”
Clothes flew off. On went a condom and away went every memory of Lance. Mike took his time, paid more attention getting me to climax than Lance ever did. Mike was a better lover, a better man. By the next morning, I was so glad I didn’t try to resist the call of my ovaries. I totally felt like Andy in the scene at the end of The Forty-Year-Old Virgin where he’s singing Aquarius because he’s so blown away after losing his virginity. Sure, I was only twenty-nine, and I wasn’t a virgin, but I could have run through Riverside Park with flowers in my hair and belted Let the Sunshine In at the top of my lungs. Even with two feet of snow on the ground.
Because everything about Mike was epic . He was the nicest guy I’d ever met. He made Lance (before I found out he was a douche) look like a narcissistic, insensitive slob.
We spent every night together for a week, then we drove down to Madison for the Badgers’ last football game of the regular season. And after our team won, we partied on State Street like a pair of coeds. Mike rented a hotel room so we could enjoy a couple of drinks and not have to drive two hours back to La Crosse.
Since then, we’ve been swapping houses—his one night, my apartment the next. We even read The Best Christmas Pageant Ever aloud, curled up in my bed while Maya slept on Mike’s lap the entire time. My dog was an enigma. The first time Mike came to my apartment, she ripped a hole in the bottom of his jeans. He’d just laughed, swept her into his arms, and kissed her.
And rather than biting his nose off, she licked him. From that day on, my dog was as infatuated with the man as I was .
While my mom was working at her new home restoration job, she smacked her chin on her toolbox. Even though she had four stitches, the wound was healing slowly. At least it was on the underside of her chin so the scar wasn’t too noticeable. She said Bob had rushed her to urgent care, which elevated him a few notches out of the dungeon. Also, my mother mentioned they’d enjoyed a couple of dinners together. The weird thing was that when she shared the news that she’d seen Bob outside of the realm of their partnership, I was totally cool with it—happy for her.
I don’t know what came over me on Thanksgiving, but I was way out of line. I always let things stew and then would blow up for one teeny weensy thing, making everyone think I’d turned into Godzilla. I admit, at the time, I’d stewed for too long. I was furious that Mom hadn’t told me about her appointment with the FMD doc, especially since she’d all but scheduled my appointment. Regrettably, I focused my fury on Bob at Thanksgiving.
I shouldn’t have.
Everybody deserved to be happy, especially my mother who had single-handedly paid for my bachelor’s and master’s degrees without a word of complaint. I didn’t want Mom to be lonely. I didn’t want her meddling in my life, either. And Bob seemed to keep her busy enough to prevent her from micromanaging me. Mom seemed to really like him, too.
Mike in his Chevy Volt rolled to a stop outside my apartment. If I hadn’t been watching for him, I never would have heard his car. It made me wonder if the new electric motors were hazardous to pedestrians. There has been more than one time where I’ve stepped off a curb and stopped because I heard a car coming but was unable to see it because of a tree or a truck parked in the way.
Wearing a pair of purple-paisley ski pants, I gave Maya a kiss and grabbed my coat, hat, and gloves then slipped out the door.
Mike stepped onto the sidewalk. “Let me be a gentleman for once.”
I fell into his arms and gave him a kiss. “Thank you. It’s wonderful to know chivalry is not dead.”
“You ready for this?”
I glanced back to the house. “I suppose we could stay here and find a YouTube video about learning to ski.”
“Nah.” He opened the car door for me. “I’ve already paid for the lessons.”
“All right, but don’t expect me to be graceful. I tried ice skating when I was ten and broke my leg. ”
Mike hopped into his seat, then drove away from the curb. “Don’t break a leg.”
“Okay,” I said, grabbing the side handle and watching for speeding cars running stop signs.
Mike’s driving was pretty chill, but I sucked air through my teeth every time a car cut in front of us, or whenever he stared to slow down for a stop light.
He glanced at me with a quirky grin. “Are the brakes working on your side?”
I shifted my gaze down to my feet, my toes pressed against the floor as if I were bracing for impact. “Sorry.” As I chuckled, the humor helped take away some of my tension.
He patted my knee. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
I covered my mouth with my palm to stop myself from hissing while we drove to the south side of town, and out the Old Town Hall Road to the Mount La Crosse Ski Area. I’d been to Seattle to visit my Uncle Roger several times, and after seeing Mount Rainier, the Midwest ski slopes looked like kiddy hills. But if I was going to actually put on a pair of skis, I’d take these hills over the mountains in Washington any day.
We checked into the desk at the chalet, and I salivated as I passed a kid drinking hot chocolate. “We could skip the slopes and go to the café,” I said, almost serious.
Mike just pulled me along.
They outfitted us with gear including a helmet and goggles. I doubted I’d be going fast enough to need the eyewear, but I was definitely a candidate for a helmet—maybe a neck brace.
Our ski instructor, Deb, met us outside. She took one look at me and decided to start with the basics. I so did not look like a skier. I was more of an abominable snow woman in a puffy purple suit with flaming red hair poking out from under the back of my helmet.
The basics were way easier than I’d imagined. Putting skis on and taking them off, how to use the poles, sidestepping, how to feel your foot and ankles and how they moved inside a boot as rigid as a plaster cast. We started wearing one ski and learned to step sideways and in circles before we were asked to propel ourselves forward with just the single ski and poles.
By the time we put both skis on, I was definitely ready for hot chocolate. I think Mike was, too. He even yawned. But two skis proved a bit more interesting because after we learned how to make a wedge and stop without crossing the tips of our skis, we actually got to ride up the conveyor of a miniscule slope.
“You’re a natural, Meg!” Deb hollered as I glided downward and executed a perfect wedge, stopped and started again. Who knew? My sport was skiing.
On the kiddie slopes.
I glanced past the chairlift at the insane humans flying down Mt. La Crosse way faster than Mike drove through town.
“To the left, Mike,” Deb hollered, her voice ratcheting up in pitch. “Mike! Left!”
I glanced over my shoulder just as my boyfriend plowed into me, his wedge never quite materializing. Together we crashed into the snow, which was nearly as hard as the ice had been during my one and only skating lesson.
“Ow,” I said, flat on my back with Mike sprawled on top of me.
“Are you okay?” He sounded concerned, wriggling, and awkwardly trying to move off of me while tangling our skis. “Did I hurt you?”
Deb released his heel levers then mine. “You guys all right?”
Mike stood and pulled me up. “Fine.”
I bent my knees and rubbed the back of my neck. “I think I survived this one.” Thank God. I’d had dissected arteries for less. Maybe I was wrong, skiing wasn’t my sport.
Mike tried the hill one more time while I watched from a safe distance. This time, he executed two decent wedges and met me at the bottom of the hill, a triumphant grin across his face like he’d just tamed his dragon. “How’d I look, Lady Rose?”
“Like an ace,” I replied. “But why did you call me Lady Rose?”
“Because you have the most gorgeous red hair I’ve ever seen, and you’re a…”
“Hm?”
“Goddess—there’s no way anyone could possibly look at you and not be mesmerized.”
“Yeah, right. In my dreams.”
“Then dream it, woman. Haven’t you ever seen Christina Hendricks in Mad Men ? You remind me of her, except you’re sexier.”
I gulped at the compliment. “But she’s gorgeous . ”
“See what I mean?” He blew me a kiss and grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s return our gear and get some hot chocolate. We’ve earned it.”
Throughout the rest of the month of December, I was happier than I’d ever been in my life.
The only free time Mike and I didn’t spend together was Christmas. He went to his sister’s house in Madison and I celebrated the holiday with Mom and Grandma. Bob had flown to Florida to see his daughter, so Christmas was quiet aside from my grandmother loudly singing carols even at the dinner table.
Mike didn’t end up bringing his niece to La Crosse as he’d planned weeks ago, but he did come back to celebrate New Year’s with me. He made a reservation for a late dinner at La Charmant, one of La Crosse’s higher end restaurants and though it was only eleven degrees outside, we donned our boots and winter gear and did the responsible thing—we walked.
A brightly-lit Christmas tree in the window welcomed us, as did the ma?tre de who opened the door and took our coats. “Are you staying for the celebration on the rooftop terrace?” he asked.
Mike gave me a squeeze. “Our reservation is all encompassing.”
“Ah yes, I see right here.”
We were shown to a table for two that overlooked Riverside Park which the Rotary decorated with a holiday light show every year. A candle flickered on the table as if in harmony with the Christmas lights outside reflecting on the unfrozen part of the Mississippi.
“Does the river ever completely freeze over?” Mike asked.
“Not usually. Whenever I’ve been down here in subzero temperatures, there’s almost always a channel in the middle where the river is moving too fast to freeze—like now. Just wait until things start to thaw. Bald eagles ride the icebergs down the Mississippi and catch fish.”
“Whoa, I definitely want to see that.”
“It’s amazing. I drove down the river highway in March a couple of years ago and literally saw hundreds of them.”
We ordered our food, the band from the bar serenading us with original light rock tunes. The musicians all looked to be about Mom’s age, but they had talent .
“What’s this?” Mike picked up a stack of cards and read the top one. “Huh.”
I leaned in. “Conversation starters?”
“Want to give it a go?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows as if issuing a challenge.
“Can I plead the fifth?”
Not answering, he laughed and picked a card. “ Do you have a secret talent? If so, can you do it right now? ”
“I can whistle really loud with my fingers in my mouth. Does that qualify?”
“Definitely, but I think maybe we ought to save the demonstration for the fireworks up on the terrace.”
“Agreed. You definitely would split an eardrum if I tried it in here. We might be asked to leave as well.”
“Before they feed us?”
I winked. “Best to wait, as you suggested.” I reached for the next card. “ If you had a parrot, what would you teach it to say? ”
Mike drummed his fingers on his chin. “Well, it certainly wouldn’t be ‘Alexa, turn on the lights.’” He shook his head as I imagined his electricity bill. “Maybe, ‘I love you.’”
My breath hitched as those gray eyes homed in on me, suddenly blocking out everything, turning us into the only two people in the restaurant. Possibly the only two people in La Crosse. But that’s what he’d teach a parrot to say to him, right? Of course he didn’t love me . How could he? It was way too soon.
My fingers trembled as I slid the card to the bottom of the pile while Mike picked one off the top.
“Oh, this one’s good. What’s the best pick-up line you know? ”
“You’re the one who said it, dude.” When he knit his brows, I shimmied my shoulders and affected my best Mike Reynolds impression. “My niece is coming to visit for a few days and I was wondering if the library might have a copy of the complete set of Harry Potter movies.” I laughed so hard, my side cramped.
Mike did, too. “What must you think of me, now that she didn’t even end up coming?”
The food arrived along with a bottle of red wine. We ate and asked a few more conversation questions. I learned Mike’s favorite childhood stuffed animal had been named Bear. It was a beaver and huge. Oh, if only I could have seen him dragging it by the tail and insisting emphatically it was (a) Bear.
Before midnight, we donned our coats, gloves, hats, and mufflers and followed the crowd to the rooftop terrace where we had the choice of drinking champagne or hot toddies. Since there was ice floating in Mike’s champagne, I opted for the toddy which cooled down in about two seconds.
Music from the eighties was piped through the speakers, and we joined the crowd on the dance floor, lighting it up in winter gear, our snow boots clomping gracelessly. At midnight Mike wrapped me in his arms as we watched the fireworks explode over the city, set off from Grandad’s Bluff. I gave a very short demonstration of my whistle before we kissed, bringing in the New Year with gloved hands, so cold our fingers were numb. It was romantic and fun. I’d never felt so alive.
We spent New Year’s Day watching the Badgers beat UCLA in their bowl game, making love on the foldout couch in front of Mike’s TV. Oh, my God. There’s nothing better than reaching climax just as my team scored. Scores for everyone. Boo ya, baby!
On January second, Mike was still on winter break. However, I’d convinced him to stay at home while I drove myself to the Moya Clinic in Rochester. I probably should have invited Mom to come along, but I’d already told her I wanted to go alone, and I stood by my decision.
Five months had passed since the accident and driving had gotten a little easier, but I didn’t ever go over the speed limit and made sure I kept plenty of distance between me and the car in front.
Dr. Davis had ordered a preliminary blood test which I was able to take a couple of days ago at the Moya Clinic in La Crosse. Of course, Moya in Rochester made the La Crosse facility look miniscule. I was both shocked and awed by all the marble used on the first floor of the Gonda Building. Shocked because as a frugal librarian, I instantly came up with a gazillion better uses for the financial outlay for such lavishness. Awed, because the expansive foyer made a statement that boomed, “This is the temple of healthcare, be respectful and reverent.”
After check-in, it didn’t take long for the technician to call my name and lead me to a dressing room. “Dr. Davis has changed your scan from a CTA to an MRA.”
“Really?” That was odd because I was sure Mom had a CTA. “Do you know why? ”
“I’m just a technician. You’ll have to ask the doctor. You still have your appointment with her this afternoon, right?”
“Yes.”
The MRA procedure used contrast dye but the technicians said it was a lot more comfortable than the CT contrast dye. At first I wondered why they didn’t just do magnetic resonance angiograms on all vascular patients rather than CTAs. I got my answer when my scan took a whole lot longer. Afterward, I barely had time to grab a sandwich before I headed back up the elevators for my face-to-face with the doctor.
I was surprised at how young Dr. Davis was when she came in. I’d assumed if my mother saw her, she’d be at least in her fifties, but this woman was mid-forties at the oldest. She carried an air of professionalism, yet there was something very human in her smile.
We exchanged pleasantries before she sat down in front of the computer screen and faced me, her hands folded. “Were you aware that you’re pregnant?”
In a nanosecond, my skin flushed hot, my face burned, pits stung, and I couldn’t breathe. “W-what?” was all I managed to say, given the room had started spinning.
“Your blood test. Of course, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that it’s common practice to give all women between the ages of twelve and fifty pregnancy tests before they have a CTA.”
Had I been given a quick pregnancy test in the ER? Maybe ? I was pretty freaked out at the time and they’d drawn a lot of blood for a myriad of reasons. I pressed the tips of my fingers against my stomach. “I-I guess I must have forgotten about that.”
Pregnant? I couldn’t be pregnant. Not now!
“Well, it’s a good thing we did.” Dr. Davis’ eyes smiled, crinkling a little in the corners. “I hope this is good news.”
Good? Better descriptors might be shocking, terrifying, and frantic. “Ah…” Who was the father? God! This couldn’t be happening! “You wouldn’t know how far along I am, would you?”
“No, but I recommend you make an appointment with your PCP as soon as possible.”
Fuuuuuuuck, no! I just met the man of my dreams and now I’m going to lose him because I’m probably pregnant with a douchebag’s baby. Fuck no! No, no, no !
I must have looked like I was about to faint because the doctor put her hand on my shoulder, patting gently. “Are you okay? Do you need a minute?”
If there was one thing I knew about doctors, they had very few extra minutes in their days. “I’m a little taken aback is all. This was unexpected news. Quite unexpected.”
Dr. Davis’ eyes crinkled again. “Sometimes surprises are the best gifts.”
I rubbed my stomach which was never flat, but always a little round. How had this happened? I didn’t take the pill because they all had side effects, but both Mike and Lance had used condoms.
Ugh, it felt disgusting and filthy to think about Lance.
“Shall we talk about today’s scans or would you prefer to reschedule our appointment?”
I took a breath and fanned my face. “Since I’m here, I’d like to know what you found.”
“Excellent. But first, in your own words, please tell me how you ended up with carotid and vertebral dissections.”
I described the braking incident, the excruciating pain, the loss of sight in one eye, and Elaine rushing me to Gustafsson Hospital. “The problem is the radiologist said I had dissections, the ER doc concurred and told me I’d had a TIA—he’s the one who admitted me. But in the hospital, the vascular doc questioned everything.”
“Interesting,” she replied, examining the MRA scans that had been done today. “I see dissections and aneurysms every day, and looking back at the images taken at Gustafsson, you definitely had two dissections. Reviewing today’s results, it appears your vertebral artery is healing but I’m concerned because your carotid hasn’t. It looks to have a chronic dissection—similar to your mother’s, though there’s no visible stenosis.”
“Mom has stenosis?”
“Yes, but she is a lot older than you are.”
I leaned in and looked at the screen where Dr. Davis was pointing. Sure enough, there was a break in the artery wall that reminded me of a hemp rope just beginning to fray. “Do I have FMD like my mom?”
“Honestly, that’s what has me baffled. You’re not showing the tortuosity that your mother has. You don’t have any aneurysms either. By the way, she gave us permission to talk to you about her health history, otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to mention it. ”
“She did?” Wow, Mom actually trusted me with such personal information? Maybe she was finally realizing I’d grown up. “I’m worried about her aneurysms. You are aware her father died from one?”
“I am, and we’re going to watch her carefully, okay?”
I nodded.
“Because I don’t see classic FMD on your scans, I’d like to send a blood sample to a genetics lab. Would that be all right?”
“Sure. Do you think they’ll find anything?”
“Possibly. The field of genetics is changing every day. They’ve been working on identifying a gene mutation for FMD, but the studies have been inconclusive.”
“Working on? So, are you testing my mom?”
“Let’s start with you and see where it goes. If we find anything, we can talk about whether or not it makes sense to test your mother.”
I drove home from Rochester in a state of shock. Of course, I still wasn’t super cool with driving. I set the cruise control at the speed limit and had a mini panic attack every time I had to change lanes to pass someone going slower than me.
But that’s not why I was in a state of shock.
I was pregnant.
There was a tiny human growing inside me.
Yes, I’d always wanted kids, but I’d expected to be married first. And I wasn’t the type of girl who slept around. In the past year I’d had sex with two men. The first time with Mike had been the Saturday after Thanksgiving, I needed to consult a calendar but it must have been about six weeks ago…five, maybe?
God save me, either one might be the father!