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“What do you mean?” I asked. “Sam only just got here.”
“No, you idiot,” Alicia said. “I’mlate,” she repeated.
There was silence between us.
“Okay,” I said, slowly.
But nothing was even remotely okay about it.
Chapter 7
Alicia
Igotupthismorning feeling depressed about the conversation between Jake and me last night at the pizza place. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I had to find out what was going on in my body. So, I got dressed and went down to the local drug store and purchased a home pregnancy test. I was so nervous. If my suspicions were correct, what was I going to do? Jake wanted no baggage. What this what he was talking about? How was I going to tell him? And at just that moment my phone rang. It was Jake.
“Hey, how are doing?” He asked.
“I’m fine, how about you?”
“Well, I thought about our conversation last night and I believe I have an understanding of what is going on with you right now,” He stated.
“You, do, huh?”
“Yes, and I want to help you out with this situation, financially,” he went on to say.
“No need, I’ve got it.”
Well,nowit’sofficialI’m pregnant. I have an appointment scheduled for this morning with a gynecologist. The Gynecology Institute of Chicago was supposed to be the best place in the city. And when I got there I was asked if I wanted to see Dr. Knightly. I felt more comfortable seeing a woman, so I agreed.
“That’s it, right there. The head. Of course, the fetus isn’t especially well-developed at this stage. I’d advise you not to tell people, but …”
I looked up at the kind face of Dr. Knightly. She seemed a little apprehensive and slow to respond, all the while smiling to reveal a set of flawless, white teeth. I gathered, from the way her hand was trembling as she applied the cold, sticky gel to my stomach that afternoon for the ultrasound, that she was just as excited to be seeing me as I was to be seeing the life growing inside of me for the first time.
“Well, I’ve seen all I can see,” said Dr. Knightly, disconnecting the head from her ultrasound monitor to clean. “We’ll know a lot more about your baby as it progresses. I’d advise monthly checkups, of course.”
“Right,” I said. I didn’t know if Dr. Knightly could tell, but I was numb. Speechless, even. And I had been so since I saw the tiny, writhing, dark image on the screen of the ultrasound machine and had finally come face to face with the creature that inhabited my body. That even now, unconsciously, I was nurturing, protecting—growing.
It was a lot to take in.
“How are you feeling?” said Dr. Knightly. “It’s normal, I’m told, to be a little nervous at this stage, of course. But don’t worry. I’d like to help you as much as I possibly can!”
“Thanks,” I muttered weakly, feeling like I might throw up. “What … what do I need to … do?”
Dr. Knightly looked at me strangely. She was a slightly odd woman, around my age, with black hair pulled into a taut bun at the back of her head, and a pair of crimson-framed spectacles balanced on the end of her nose. She was pretty, I suppose. But there was something weird about her gaze—the intensity with which she stared me down as I slowly picked myself up off the plastic chair and began, slowly, to wipe off the ice-cold gel on my stomach.
“Do?” she repeated, turning her head to one side, like a curious animal. “What do you mean, sweetheart? You’ve already done it!” She laughed, opening her mouth a little, but her eyes stayed fixed on me. I’m sure it was just my nerves, but Dr. Knightly seemed to be watching me the way you’d watch fish moving in a glass tank at the aquarium.
“I mean … obviously—look,” I stuttered, “I’m just going to come out and admit it. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.”
Dr. Knightly nodded and rested her hand on her head.
“I work for CAA,” I said.
“Oh. And you had an affair with someone there?”
“Yes,” I responded. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” said Dr. Knightly.
