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I opened my eyes and looked at her, forcing myself to smile. Then I looked at the screen.
“Where is it?” I asked.
“Well, the embryo is here.” She pointed at a gray blip on the screen. She zoomed in on the image a few times, but she didn’t say anything else.
“How far along am I?” I asked.
“You were eight weeks.” She looked at me with sympathy in her eyes.
“Were?”
“There’s no fetal heartbeat, Miss Taylor.” She squeezed my hand. “At this point, in a viable pregnancy, we would see that on the screen. However, we’re going to run tests to see why this pregnancy is no longer viable, and you’ll have what you need to know in the future.” Her words chilled my skin. “You can choose to wait for your body to naturally miscarry or we can schedule a D&C procedure.”
“An abortion?”
“It’s not an abortion,” she said, softening her voice. “It’s a standard dilation and curettage procedure we use for women who have a miscarriage. It enables us to clear your uterine lining, but it’s not required. It’s just an option.”
My mind was still spinning, still processing the words “no fetal heartbeat.”
“Miss Taylor,” she said softly. “Are you aware of what I’m saying to you?”
“I don’t have a baby anymore.” I couldn’t look at her. “Is that correct?”
“That is correct.” She squeezed my hand again. “I’m very sorry, Miss Taylor. I’m going to grab my lead doctor and psychiatrist so we can run some tests and make sure you're stabilized, okay?”
I didn’t say anything. I lay there numb and in shock, unable to feel anything but heartache and tears falling down my face.
Going against my better judgment, I pulled out my phone and called Grayson again. It rang three times and in the middle of the fourth, there was a brief gap and a beep, the tell-tale sign of him hitting ignore.
“This is Grayson,” his voicemail said. “You've reached my private line, so that means I know you personally. Leave a message and I promise to get back to you."
I didn’t bother. I hung up and sent an email instead.
SUBJECT: THANK YOU + Best of luck
Grayson,
I want you to know that you are EXACTLY who I thought you were when we first met, and that you’ve taught me to trust my first instincts for the rest of my life.
I promise I’ll never call/reach out to you again.
I hate you,
Charlotte
A response came back within seconds.
Subject: Re: Thank you + Best of luck
This message has been blocked from the intended recipient as the delivering address is flagged and on the spam list.
CHARLOTTE: THEN
Seven years ago
California
SUBJECT: WITHDRAWAL
Dear Stanford Admissions Team,
My name is Charlotte Taylor and I would like to thank you for awarding me the Honors Fellowship for my full term at your university. Unfortunately, due to personal reasons, I am withdrawing from the program in hopes that someone else will be able to take advantage of such an incredible opportunity.
Thank you for understanding,
Charlotte M. Taylor
SUBJECT: ACCEPTANCE
Dear Ketchikan-Alaska Art Fellowship Admissions,
Thank you for considering my late application. I am honored to gain acceptance into your one-year program and this email serves as my official commitment statement.
Thank you,
Charlotte M. Taylor
CHARLOTTE: NOW
Present Day
New York City
THE LOOK ON GRAYSON’S face said a million words. Still speechless, he was staring blankly at the block on my bracelet and running his fingers through my hair. He shook his head every few seconds and sighed, but he didn't say anything else.
My heart felt heavy at the realization that I’d been manipulated for all these years, that everything I thought I’d known was never true. I wasn’t sure why, but a small part of me still needed to hear Grayson say that he didn't know what was happening with me back then.
“Anna never told you anything about me being pregnant?” I asked.
“No.” His voice was hoarse. “I take it she never actually sent you your ticket for draft night?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He turned to face me. “I need you to believe me when I say that I would’ve dropped everything and flown to see you immediately if I knew you were pregnant.” He clasped my hand. “Everything. No questions asked.”
“I believe you.”
“And I’m sorry you had to suffer through a miscarriage by yourself.” He looked wounded. “Someone should’ve been there for you.”
“Nadira came and held my hand when I went back,” I said.
“That explains why she wouldn’t look at me when I saw her that summer.” His voice was soft.
"She told me you called her every year."
“It took her a year just to pick up the phone.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “She told me you moved overseas.”
“I told her to lie.”
“I figured, but—” He shook his head. “I hired at least three private investigators to look for you and they all said you moved overseas, too. They all verified it.”
“Did they consider Alaska overseas?” I asked. “I was only there for a year, so maybe that’s what they found.”
