Page 24 of Rough Patch

The doctor nodded and slapped the folder closed. She looked at Fiona. “Your blood work shows… an abnormality in the baby’s chromosomes.”

“What does that mean?” Abnormality?

“Down Syndrome is a possibility and…” The doctor paused. “What I want to do is send you for an amniocentesis.” She went on to explain the procedure and how it would work. Something about a needle, fluid… risk to the baby was minimal, but present.

“So there’s something wrong with my baby?” She put a protective hand over her stomach.

“No.” She held up both hands and gave Fiona a soft look that didn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Is there someone we can call? Someone who can be with you during the test?” The doctor laid a hand on Fiona’s shoulder.

Fiona blew out a breath. She could do this. She didn’t need anyone to be with her. Especially not someone who would rather not be with her. The doctor offered a tissue, and Fiona dried her eyes. “No. I don’t want anyone here. But thank you.”

“Okay. Well, we’re going to go over to the hospital, have you get ready. The test is pretty quick. It’s a little uncomfortable.”

And holy mother of God was that an understatement. The needle was enormous and the results wouldn’t be back for two or three days so that meant she would wait and wonder and probably drive herself crazy, but for now, she was strong and that counted.

As she drove home, she concentrated on the radio, on whatever Bon Jovi song she found on her iPod right up to the minute she pulled into the driveway. Grier’s bike was in the open garage and he squatted next to it, wrench in one hand and a streak of grease across his forehead. He stood and smiled as she walked past.

“How’d it go?”

“Fine.” She breathed out with the lie.

“Good.”

They hadn’t found a way to be back to normal since the explosion. They were more like roommates now. Him on the sofa. Her in the bedroom. They ate together. That was all. But he came home every night and that counted for something.

“I’m going to make supper.” She walked into the house and went straight to her room. Sat on the bed and stared at the carpet. After a while, she laid down and closed her eyes.

The room was cloaked in darkness when Grier woke her. “Hey. You okay?”

She put a hand over her belly, wishing she could reach in and hold her baby now. “Yeah. Just tired I guess.”

He didn’t sit beside her or touch her whatsoever. “I made supper, some BLTs, extra L and T. The way you like.”

“Thanks.” But she wasn’t hungry, wasn’t interested in more than those damned three-day test results. “I’ll be in there in a few minutes. I just want to wake up a little.”

“All right.” He walked to the door but turned. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m great.” But her breath hitched, and he came back. All she wanted was to be held and soothed, told everything would work out. And she supposed she should tell him, even if he hadn’t shown one iota of interest in her or the baby in weeks.

“Fiona?” Now he sat beside her, not touching her, but there and it helped. Sadly. Ridiculously. It helped.

“There might be something wrong with the baby.” Blurting the words made the abstract idea she’d convinced herself it was to be real. And now she couldn’t help but think of it. She told him what the doctor said, about the amnio, and that they’d have to wait for the results.

“What do we do?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Wait, I guess. What choice do we have?” Other than the few tears she’d shed in the doctor’s office, she hadn’t cried or thought or worked through anything. And now wasn’t the time either. She sat up. “Let’s go eat.”

Because he didn’t move, she scooted off the other side of the bed and walked out.

As she set about the ridiculously normal task of putting her sandwich together on her plate, Grier walked in and hugged her from behind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

She shrugged him off and carried her food to the table. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t.

He took her plate and set it in the sink. “Come on.”