Chapter 148
I WALKED DIRECTLY from the lab to Bar Sanna, but when I called over to the tender, the operator couldn’t get through to anyone in RADCON. “You want me to send someone down there to relay a message?” he asked, but there was no point. Without a home phone, Paul wouldn’t be able to call me back.
Back at the house, I ate a yogurt, some apricots, and a handful of walnuts. Then the cat and I took ourselves to bed, where I did not sleep. I kept thinking about the sub and what it would mean for the island if it was leaking something dangerous into the sea. By the morning, I was a wreck.
I bathed and dressed, then decided to take a page out of Mary Lou’s book and focus on the stuff I could control. So I drove over to Laura’s apartment to try to make amends.
She answered the door wearing sweats and Bobby’s LA MADD SQUAD T-shirt, which had enough give in it to fit over her expanding stomach. It was clear she hadn’t showered and, judging by the dark circles under her eyes, I suspected she also hadn’t slept.
“Hey,” I said, gently.
“Hey, yourself.”
“Have you heard anything from Bobby?”
She shook her head. “What about Paul?”
“Nothing.”
We stood there, not saying anything.
“Can we talk?” I finally asked.
“If you want,” she said, and walked back into the apartment, leaving me to kick off my shoes at the door.
I followed her into the kitchen, where she’d been making coffee. She looked like she was moving slow. “Are the protesters still at it?” she asked as she filled the coffeepot’s reservoir with water.
I had driven past the waterfront on my way over. “It’s just a lot of people. Like more than usual. But it doesn’t seem bad.”
“Beth Stevenson says a sub came in with its whole nose blown off.”
“That’s what I heard, too.”
“How does that even happen?” she asked.
“I have no idea. I can’t believe it’s still afloat.”
“It’s the ballast tanks that matter,” she said. “Everything else can be sealed off.”
I knew she was just trying to fill the silence, so I cut to the chase. “I told Paul about Teo.”
She set the coffeepot down on the counter with a clank. “You did?”
“Two nights ago.”
She looked dumbfounded. “What did he say?”
“Not a lot. It’s obviously not what he wanted to hear, but I don’t think he was totally surprised.”
“Wow,” she said.
“Are you surprised?”
“I didn’t think you’d do it.”
I wanted to tell her that I hadn’t been sure I’d do it, either. Instead, I said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on.”
She started to say something, but then she took a deep breath and placed a hand on the underside of her belly.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
She was wincing. “Yeah,” she said. “I got a terrible night’s sleep. I never sleep well when Bobby’s gone, but I think I’m starting to get those fake contractions. You know the ones?”
I didn’t, but I nodded anyway.
She pressed harder on her stomach. “The doctor says if I change positions or go for a walk, they should go away. I guess real contractions don’t do that?”
“Let me make the coffee,” I said. “You sit down.”
She didn’t argue, just handed me a filter, took herself over to the little breakfast nook, and heaved herself into a chair. “It’s decaf,” she said once she was settled. “Sorry.”
“I’ll live.”
I didn’t know anything about being pregnant, but to my untrained eye, Laura didn’t look great. Really tired and just generally kind of swollen. “How many weeks along are you again?” I asked as I measured out the coffee.
“Thirty-five, if you can believe it.”
“It’s got to feel great, having made it this far.”
“Yeah,” she said, but I could tell she wasn’t in the mood to count her blessings. She kept pressing on her belly, and at one point she closed her eyes, which made me wonder if she was in more pain than she was letting on.
“You want to go for a walk?” I suggested.
She tried to sit up straight. “We’ve got the coffee coming.”
“It’ll be waiting for us when we get back. Go put on some shoes.”
We left the apartment and walked around the block.
Laura’s neighborhood was primarily residential, and it felt extraordinarily quiet for a Saturday morning, which made me wonder if some of her neighbors were down at the waterfront, protesting the arrival of the sub with the missing nose. I wouldn’t have blamed them.
After the third loop, Laura was still stopping to do her breathing exercises every couple of minutes, and I told her that enough was enough. “Let’s get you checked out. If we waste someone’s time, who cares?”
I ran back inside the apartment for our purses, then loaded her into the Chevelle. “You want to go to the hospital or the clinic?”
“Not the hospital,” she whispered, and I said fine.