Chapter 8 #2
“Good! Most of my patients are in a state of agony or anxiety. Nice to have some happiness for a change.”
Ana was confirming her name and birthdate on all the vials of blood when a woozy feeling hit her, the air suddenly sharp and cold against the roof of her mouth, the chair she sat in hot and hard.
Baby.
The blood work was going to rule it in or out, but Ana was possibly pregnant.
Her phone buzzed in her purse.
Hello? Brie texted. Remember our coffee date?
Ana’s head snapped up to find the giant wall clock she’d noticed when she walked in.
Damn it. She was fifteen minutes late.
Sorry, she typed, remembering that Brie was just two blocks away. I had to get extra blood work.
Something wrong?
The words stared at her, judging her, daring her to say it. Once she told Brie, she could never take it back.
Once she said pregnant, it made it real.
What if she wasn’t, though? What if it was a fluke? Maybe she did have a UTI. Or maybe some medication she’d taken recently screwed up the test.
Then she’d create drama for no reason, and feel like a fool.
Would she, though? Really? If Ana were one of her own clients, she’d say that the support of a good friend in a time of fear outweighed possible foolish feelings later.
I’ll tell you over coffee, Ana replied, her stomach going tight at the thought.
Decaf, a voice whispered in her head. If she really were pregnant, then she should stick to decaf.
Ana stood, ready to sink into the comfort of her best friend, deciding on the spot that she had to tell her. This was too big. Too important.
Too shocking.
“Honey? I know you’re texting and busy, but you just wobbled a little in that chair. Are you okay? Need some apple juice? Crackers? I’ve been drawing blood for twenty-six years and I can spot a fainter from a mile away.”
“Faint? No,” Ana said, her voice fading as her ears began to buzz.
“Sit right here.” Tracy’s tone was firm and authoritative. “Put your head down and breathe in for a count of four, out for a count of four.”
No argument from Ana; Tracy was right. She was dizzy and overwhelmed, and now was no time to try to push through it.
A text buzzed.
You seem off. Are you still at the doctor’s?
Brie was the one who got Ana to start coming to this primary care practice.
Yes. Dizzy at blood draw, she finally confessed. Lab tech helping me.
OMW! Brie replied, triggering a sense of relief in Ana that surprised her. Panic was unusual for her, and having Brie here would let the piece of her that was freaking out stand down.
“My friend is coming,” she told Tracy, who was rummaging in a small fridge. She turned around with an apple juice container in her hand, the kind hospitals served, with an aluminum foil top you peeled back.
“Here,” Tracy said, opening the foil an inch and handing it to her. “Drink this. I’m glad you have a supportive friend.”
“Brie is going to die if I’m really pregnant.”
“I’m sure it won’t actually kill her,” Tracy said under her breath, which made Ana laugh weakly.
“No, it’s just, I’m not supposed to be able to conceive.”
“That makes it a double blessing!” But Tracy’s mouth immediately jerked down, alarm in her eyes. “Or did I say the wrong thing?”
“It’s okay. I’m just–this is a lot.”
Tracy patted her hand. “Life is a lot, isn’t it?”
Great. Ana was being comforted by a phlebotomist in a lab as she awaited the results of a blood test that would determine the course of her entire life. The therapist was being assessed and fed apple juice.
“Life is very complicated,” Ana whispered, eyes filling with tears.
Closing her eyes, she took a long, deep inhale and let herself feel her feelings. Fear, shame, disbelief, disappointment, excitement–it all welled up, competing for space in her heart.
Pushing it down wouldn’t make her feel less. It would just make the feelings come out in dysfunctional ways.
So she breathed. Felt. Cried.
And simply was.
“You sit here as long as you need,” Tracy said. Ana heard a keyboard click. “I don’t have another appointment for fifteen minutes, and the walk-ins can wait.”
“Thank you.”
“Have a sip of that apple juice. It could really help.”
Harris came into her mind’s eye, her imagination putting Dennis next to him, hulking and rageful, ready to tear her ex limb from limb. The fantasy was fabulous, but with tears dripping from the corners of her eyes, she realized that another feeling was growing.
Sorrow.
Dennis wasn’t a possibility now.
Definitely not.
Two tentative taps at the door made her open her eyes, and a receptionist showed Brie in.
Where Ana had long brown hair she kept pulled back in a ponytail or braid, Brie was blonde, her loose curls cut short.
Curious, caring brown eyes met hers, and a whiff of Brie’s ever-present lavender scent made her feel instantly better.
“What’s wrong, Ana?”
“I’m feeling better now.” She smiled shakily. “I think I just got woozy.”
“That can happen,” Tracy said with a smile.
Ana stood up again, walking carefully to the door. Steady now, she gave Tracy a grateful look.
“Thank you.”
The response was a casual wave. “No problem. Thank you for not throwing up.”
“Ew!”
“Happens more than you’d think.” Tracy looked at Brie. “Give her lots of air and rest.”
“Will do.”
Walking through the lobby, Brie linked her arm in Ana’s. “What was that about?”
“Can I tell you over coffee?”
“Are you up for it?”
Outside, the gray sky made Ana feel gloomier, a sense of dread overwhelming her.
“Yes. Warm coffee shop. Private corner.”
“You’re scaring me. What did you learn at the doctor?” Brie halted on the sidewalk, putting her hands on Ana’s shoulders. “Tell me.”
“I–”
“Is it cancer?”
“What? No!”
“Oh, thank God.” Brie’s mother, Morgan, had just finished chemo for stage 2b breast cancer.
“It’s–I…” A hysterical laugh began, choked out by sobs.
“What the hell is going on, Ana? Are you–”
“Pregnant.”
Brie’s eyes nearly fell out of her head.
“Did you just say–”
“Pregnant. Urine test was positive, now I’m waiting for the blood test. Results tomorrow or the next day.”
“How can you be pregnant?”
“It’s–I don’t know! It was a pee test–it might be wrong.”
“Are you having any symptoms?”
“Maybe? I’m really tired. And nauseated.”
“That could be lots of things.”
“Right.”
“But…” Brie drew out the word. “If you are, is it Harris’s?”
“Who else have I slept with?”
Brie tilted her head. “Well…”
“Dennis? I slept with him three days ago. It’s not him.”
“Anyone other than Harris?”
“NO! Of course not. I would have told you.”
The magnitude of the problem began to hit Brie, her face changing as Ana watched.
“Oh, no. Ana! Harris? Harris really is the father?”
“I–I guess?”
Brie began spewing a string of profanity that Ana wholeheartedly agreed with, especially the part involving various objects that Harris could shove where the sun didn’t shine. Hearing her bestie scream “unlubricated fire hydrant” was jarring.
But a bit cathartic.
By the time they got to the coffee shop, Ana felt more stable, so she grabbed a small cheese bagel and ordered a black coffee.
Decaf, just in case.
Brie gave her a judgmental look.
“Already? Decaf?”
“I know. Might as well be water, but what if? I already drank alcohol three days ago, and if I really am, you know…”
“Pregnant with Harris McSlimeball’s baby?”
“Um, right. If I am, then the last thing this, um…”
The word baby didn’t want to be in her mouth.
“Noodle.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s call it a noodle. Makes it easier to talk about.”
The suggestion hung in the air like the steam rising up from the espresso machine as the barista made Brie’s cappuccino.
“Okay. Fine. Noodle.”
“You’re being very good to your hypothetical noodle,” Brie said with approval. “I wouldn’t worry about a tiny bit of alcohol or caffeine, though. Noodles are hardy.”
“Noodles require a lot of care! They’re defenseless and need to be treated just right for optimal growth.”
“Yes, but you can’t be perfect. No noodle ever gets perfect parenting.”
“My noodle will!”
“Not with Harris as the… noodlemaker.”
“I am the noodlemaker, thank you very much. He just added the… secret ingredient.”
A very puzzled barista was sliding their drinks toward them.
“You two work in a restaurant?”
Brie rolled her eyes and slid her credit card into the machine. Soon, Ana was nibbling her parmesan cheese bagel and sipping her brew, finally back on an even keel.
“That jerk,” Brie muttered.
“I know.”
“He needs to make this right.”
“How?”
“He needs to help you! Be here!”
“He didn’t do this to me.”
“Of course he did!”
“No, I mean, it’s not like he got me pregnant on purpose. Something must have gone wrong, if I even am pregnant. We still don’t know for sure.”
“You had a positive test. You’re feeling nauseated and tired. Do your boobs hurt?”
“Huh?”
“Boobs.” Brie looked down at her own. “Are they tender?”
“Sure, but that usually happens right before my period.”
“Ana.” Brie gave her a flat look.
“Oh, no,” Ana moaned, taking a sip of coffee. “More proof.”
“Did you call Harris?”
“WHAT? No! He wouldn’t answer even if I tried.”
“You need to try. He needs to know.”
“So he can do what? Taunt me from Morocco?”
“I still can’t believe he offered to have you join him there. I think that text was fake.”
“I think he half meant it, but he also said I was on my own getting to Marrakesh.”
“Such a gentleman. I am so furious at him. How can you be so calm?”
“Am I calm? I think I’m just in shock. I have a broken–“”
“A broken heart.” Brie patted her hand.
She’d almost said uterus. Brie didn’t know about her abnormal uterus. Leave it to Harris to screw up the natural order of the universe. Now she’d be forced to reveal it and oh, right.
She also might be a mother.
Ana just blinked, unable to stop. Her right hand moved to her belly, fingertips brushing it.
“You need to call him.”
“No way! Not until it’s confirmed by the blood test. I really, really don’t want to talk to him unless I have to.”
“You shouldn’t be afraid of him.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re something of him.”
“I’m ashamed.”
“Why are you ashamed?”
“Because I didn’t see what a sleaze he is. I should have spotted it.”
“Just because you’re a therapist doesn’t mean you know everything about everyone.”
Those words made Ana tear up. Brie was right, but she still felt so stupid.
“You should call him. Tell him,” Brie repeated.
“No.” Ana let out a long breath that she hoped would evacuate some anxiety. “I can’t until I know it’s true. Right now I have a pee test, feel a little sick, and that’s it. If I call him now and it turns out I’m not pregnant, it’s just stirring up trouble.”
“True. I still want to find him and beat the hell out of him with a cheese pot.”
“If I’m pregnant, it’s not his fault. We used condoms. It just means one of them broke.”
“He deserves the anger anyway.”
Ana tapped Brie’s cup with hers. “I’ll drink to that.”
For the next few minutes they drank and ate, Ana’s stomach slowly unclenching, her mind clearing a bit.
Being with Brie was always soothing, a deep layer inside able to unfurl and flatten, turn loose and serene.
They’d been friends since their freshman year of college, Ana a psychology major, Brie in nutrition.
And here they were, almost two decades later, best buddies.
“Let’s talk about something more pleasurable, like your wedding,” Ana said, happy to change the subject.
“I can’t believe it’s happening.”
“You’re going to be so beautiful. That silk dress is stunning.”
“Isn’t it amazing that I can wear Grandma’s dress? I love the neckline. Did I tell you that Mom found a tailor in Boston who uses scraps from other vintage dresses to update yours? But I don’t think it needs much work, really just needs to be taken in a little at the hips.”
As Brie chattered about her plans, Ana nodded, trying to focus.
Being her maid of honor meant supporting her friend.
Ana had been a bridesmaid twice, both in the two years after grad school, those brides now distant friends she followed on social media and visited with when they were in town or she was near where they lived.
Brie, though, was special. Her family’s cheese shop was in Rockport, and Ana even helped out sometimes during holiday rushes. They paid her in product. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.
As she listened to Brie talk about invitations and whether to invite distant cousins from Quebec, her phone buzzed.
I was told it’s customary to wait three days to text someone so you don’t seem desperate. It’s been exactly 72 hours since I last saw you, so…
The words were impossible.
Blinking hard at her phone, she nearly shrieked when another text appeared, this one a photo.
The picture was of her and Dennis, the selfie he snapped before they’d parted.
“Ana? What’s up?” Constitutionally curious, Brie looked at Ana’s phone and made a low sound of approval.
“He is HOT, Ana! Is that the guy from the hotel?”
“Dennis,” Ana whispered. “Oh, no.” Setting the phone down, she rested her forehead on her palms, burying her fingers in her hair.
Brie picked the phone up and read his text aloud.
“Awww. He sounds awesome. When are you planning to see him again?”
Choking, Ana looked at her in disbelief.
“See him? See him? I’m pregnant with another man’s baby!”
Brie cursed, still studying the picture. “Those arms! How do you look at those arms and not drool?”
“I don’t. I wore a bib around him.”
“Ana!”
“What am I going to do, Brie? If I’m pregnant, I can’t be with Dennis!”
“But what if you’re not?”
“Fine. Then yes. So what do I do about his text?”
“Ignore it until you get the blood test results?”
“That’s another day or two.”
“He waited three days to text you. Make him wait two more.”
“It feels rude.”
“Ana. Stop holding yourself to impossible standards when it comes to others’ feelings.”
“You know what I do for a living, right?”
Laughing, they stared at each other.
“So say something to the guy, then don’t say any more until you get the test results. The second they come in, call me. I’ll read them with you, and we’ll manage Dennis and Harris from there.”
“I feel so irresponsible! I could be pregnant by my ex, and I don’t know what to say to the new, wonderful guy!”
“Not irresponsible. Human. Frankly, I’m impressed.”
“You’re impressed? With me? In this mess?”
“Yeah. I am. You took some really great leaps.”
“I feel like I leapt and someone pulled away the safety net.”
“It’s all going to be fine,” Brie soothed. She looked again at the selfie on the phone. “You look so happy with him.”
“I was. How can someone you’ve known for less than twenty-four hours make you feel so complete?”
“Until I met Martin, it was inconceivable,” Brie said.
Inconceivable.
That word arced through her mind like a firework, the shrill whistle of it exploding in her head. She burst into tears, crying so hard, she couldn’t breathe, Brie squeezing her hand and trying to infuse her with a sense of calm.
Inconceivable?
No. Not anymore.