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Mia nudges me forward. I approach slowly. “I, uh… would like an ultrasound.”
She huffs. “Don’t want it showing up on Daddy’s insurance?” She rolls her eyes and hands me a clipboard. “Fill this out, princess.”
Mia steps in front of me and puts her hands flat on the desk. “Looks like you missed the etiquette training. You have no fucking idea what she’s going through, who she is, or what she’s lost. So why don’t you keep your judgmental thoughts to yourself?”
That’s my best friend. Brusque as she is. But she always has my back.
I spend two hours trying not to make eye contact with women who are obviously judging me the same as the receptionist. Just when I think I can’t take another under-the-breath comment or turned-up nose, my name is called. Not my real name. The name Mia put on the form when she filled it out for me.
“Miss Anderson?”
Rolling my eyes at the mention of Asher’s last name, I stand and pull Mia with me.
We’re escorted to a large room with five or six curtain separators. The lady points to the third one. “That’s yours. Undress your lower half. A tech will be in shortly. Mondays are our busiest days since we’re closed on the weekend. The wait might be a bit longer than normal, especially since one of our techs called in sick. Sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
Once the curtain is drawn, there’s barely enough room for the bed and one small chair. I almost fall over while removing my pants, then sit on the table and cover my lower half with the provided paper sheet.
I hear sobs from across the room. A woman is crying and saying, “I can’t be pregnant. I just can’t. He’ll kill me.”
Mia shoves her AirPods in my ears and plays music. I’m grateful I don’t have to listen to anyone else. I’m fairly sure I’m the one who will be sobbing as soon as it’s my turn.
Lying flat, music in my ears and Mia stroking my arm, I almost fall asleep and am startled when the music stops. I look up to see a young woman. Girl is more like it. I give Mia’s AirPods back to her.
“I’m Clara. I’ll be doing your ultrasound.” The baby-faced tech rolls an ancient-looking machine up next to me, disturbing the closed curtain to my right.
Mia and I share a look. We’re both thinking the same thing. Is this kid even out of high school?
Clara’s cheeks pink. “I’m young, I know. But I’ve been working here over a month, and I’ve done a hundred of these.” She laughs and tries to make a joke. “It’s not like I’m performing surgery.”
I throw an arm over my eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The machine beeps as it turns on and I hear the squirt of lube knowing it’s going on the wand thingy she’s about to impale me with. When she tells me to relax, I want to kick her with the foot that is inches from her face, because relaxing is the last thing I’m about to do.
The wand moves around inside me as I try to go to a better place in my mind. A beach. A blanket. A bottle of champagne. And Asher. That’s my place. It’s the place I dream of. It’s where my mind goes when I think of him. When I don’t think of him. When I try to think of life without him.
“There it is.”
I don’t look at the screen. Because I know what ‘it’ means.
“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”
My eyes are squeezed tightly shut as I shake my head. Maybe if I don’t hear the heartbeat, I won’t have the instant connection I had when I heard Christopher’s heartbeat. Maybe if I don’t let myself connect with this baby, I won’t be so devastated when I find out something is wrong with it.
Mia holds my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. I’m sure her eyes are plastered to the screen. She knows my story almost as well as I do, but it’s not her story. She’s not scared of being pregnant. Of falling in love with another human being only to have that love ripped to shreds and her world torn apart.
“It looks like you’re about eleven weeks,” Clara says. “But let me take a few more measurements.”
My mind is reeling. Eleven weeks. Almost three months. How did I not know this before now?
You did.
“We need a bed!” someone yells. “Got a laboring woman out here. She’s crowning.”
I rise up on my elbows. “I’m done here. Use this bed.” I’m scooting up so the wand thing just kind of falls away as the girl looks up at me. “I got what I came for. You need the room.”
I take tissues off the stand, wipe up, and quickly put on my jeans and shoes. Then I pull Mia out to the front and drop three fifty-dollar bills in the nearly empty plastic jar labeled “Contributions appreciated.”