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CHAPTER20
ZEKE
She’squiet the entire way to Morleau, and no matter how many times I ask a question or bring up some random fact about BC, or mountains, or what-the-fuck-ever, she doesn’t respond with more than three words. The shit with Mom has to have messed her up. It certainly messed me up.
Rage spills through me at the thought. Mom’s lucky Jet stepped in and demanded I go back to Nova and leave Mom to him.
I don’t even remember the last time I let anger grab me like that. It felt strange, this urge to protect her, and in my hurry to stomp out these uncomfortable feelings, I flipped the switch to goofball and then dumped my sob story on her without getting a sense of where she was at.
“Are you okay?” I finally ask, annoyed with the silent brooding that is slowly filling up the truck—from both of us.
“I’m fine.” She smiles at me, and I’m sure my expression saysbullshitbecause she continues. “Just thinking. I’m anxious to see this new doctor.”
That makes sense. The tension releases from my body, and I pat her thigh, letting my hand linger for a moment longer than I should.
“I’m nervous, too.” I toss the idea around in my head before bringing it up. “Listen, about my mom—”
She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “Can we not talk about it right now?”
“We have to talk about it eventually, Nova.”
“I know,” she says, picking at a fuzz on her sweater. “Just not right now, okay?”
When we get to Morleau, I suggest grabbing a coffee before the appointment. Nova agrees, but the second we get out of the truck, something changes in her stance. She becomes visibly nervous. Jumpy, almost.
She glances around like she might run into someone familiar at any second, but I’m willing to bet if I ask her about it, she’ll brush it off. I know there’s something up, and I can’t help the flurry of annoyance that swirls around in my head. I just told her a bunch of shit I hate talking about, and she met me with nothing. A simple agreement that we’re all fucked up. But why is she messed up? What messed her up?
It’s a feeling I’ve had since she agreed to stay with me, but there’s nothing else to go on—just a feeling. Even when we first met, I saw the darkness lingering over her. And judging by the conversation in the car, me spilling to her isn’t going to end in her telling me what’s up.
We head to the doctor’s office, a line drawing of a woman’s silhouette on the sign outside. A tiny heart rests in her belly, and I swallow my discomfort.
I tuck my hands in my pockets and follow Nova, letting her take the lead on this. She gestures for me to sit, and she goes to check in. The room is filled with baby shit. There’s a huge poster of the inside of a woman’s body on the wall across from me—guts and all, with this little human hanging out upside-down in there, waiting to come out of a tiny tunnel.
Nausea stirs inside my stomach, and I take a few more swallows of coffee, which adds to this burning in my gut.Why did I agree to come here?
Nova sits next to me and smiles, her own eyes apprehensive, and it settles me. I don’t have time to be weird about all this. I need to be solid, so she feels comfortable. I reach for her hand, taking it in mine.
“This is about to get real, isn’t it?” I joke, but the truth that boils below the surface is that until this moment, I’ve cognitively understood that she’s pregnant, but it hasn’t fully registered yet. When I try to think of the baby, all I can think of is her. The reality is just out of reach, and I get this feeling it’s about to slam into me full force.
Nova laces her fingers through mine, and nothing has ever felt as right as this. “You have no idea,” she teases me.
The doctor calls us, and we follow her back. I get the impression that when I walk back out of this building, I’m not going to be the same person.
“I’m Doctor Smith,” she says and holds her hand out to both of us. She’s young-ish, with tightly spiralled black hair and dark skin around bright eyes and a big smile. She’s tall and confident, and her presence puts me at ease immediately.
“Zeke,” I say as Nova climbs up on the exam table, the paper-covered platform crinkling and rustling as she moves. I sit next to her in the tall chair, and Dr. Smith arranges a few things on the table. She begins asking Nova questions, and my attention wanders to everything in her office. Charts and posters and a bulletin board full of pictures of babies that I’m assuming this woman has helped deliver. This is a world I’ve never stepped foot in. A world I’ve never experienced.
Nova smacks my arm, and I startle, snapping my attention back.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Dr. Smith is standing over Nova’s exposed stomach, pressing her belly with flat palms.
“I said, how are you holding up?”
“Oh, I’m uh, fine.”
“Any questions about what’s going on? Nova’s going to be going through many changes right now, but I like to focus on the whole-family approach to childbirth. Did you know that if you spend time with the baby skin-to-skin after it’s born, your brain chemistry will alter to a lesser degree but still change? Just like the mother’s.”
