Adirondack Audacity (35 page)

“You’re on.” Vic calls out to him. “I know I’m
right…looooser! Detroit’s going to win anyway.”
Outside a cold autumn rain slashes against the
windowpanes, a fire in the hearth crackles in the
background. As I rest my head in the curve of Vic’s
shoulder, I can’t keep my eyes open. I’m exhausted for
some reason, a morning with Bridget? And then I feel a
slow tightening across my abdomen, and realize I’m
getting my period.
You have got to be kidding me!
Of all the
luck, my weekend with Vic and I have my period.
Racking my brain, I can’t remember the last time I’ve had
one, my cycle’s been very erratic to nonexistent the past
few years, and irregular is the new norm at my age. I
stopped worrying about it,
ouch,
didn’t miss the cramps. I
squirm in an attempt to get comfortable. Maybe I should
take something for the pain.
“What’s the matter, love?” Vic asks in a drowsy postthanksgiving dinner voice. “You’re squirming like a two
year old. Can’t get comfortable?” He pulls me closer,
even a game of peek-aboo doesn’t sound fun.
“No,” I reply, grimacing as a cramp grips my belly.
“Maybe I’ll go change into something more
comfortable.”
“Sure, Vic says, giving my butt a little swat as I
gingerly stand up.
“Ohhh,” I groan.
“Elle, What is it?” Vic sits up, his face creased with
concern. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“I…I don’t know.” I gasp; this is not ordinary
cramps. I sink back onto the couch feeling a rush of
blood seeping between my legs. I’m bleeding…really
bleeding. Oh Lord, what’s happening?
Vic’s face goes pale beneath his swarthy skin, his eyes
blink rapidly as he watches the growing circle of blood
seeping into the couch. “Elle,” his breath coming in gasps
as panic seizes him “Oh my God, Elle.” He stands
bewitched by the sight of the blood. “Hanna! Ike, call
911!”
Call 911! Let’s not get crazy here, hospitals are for
sick people, it’s just a period. Really. And there’s no way
I’m going to the hospital because……even in the grips of
pain, I recall in horror, I put on pair of Betty Boop
underpants as a joke this morning. No ER team is going
to see me in Betty Boop underpants…I vaguely
remember my mother warning me to wear clean
underwear, what if you get in an car accident. Great, I’m
in an accident and I’m wearing Betty Boop…….. and I
think there’s a hole in the crotch. I can just see the
tabloids now;
Esteban Diago’s current lover comes to the ER
wearing Betty Boop underwear. Kinky…
then another cramp
hits and I don’t care if I’m wearing Bozo the Clown
panties and a matching red nose……
I hear Hanna cry out as she comes running in from
the kitchen. “Dad,
Oh, my God
, what’s happening to her?”
Hanna grabs Vic by the arm and shakes him. But Vic is
frozen in terror. His eyes fixated on me.
“Dad, Dad!” Hanna screams in panic. I see Vic start,
like he’s been slapped in the face.
“Hanna, where’s Ike?” Vic looks to the back of the
house in desperation. “We have to get her to the
hospital.”
“I don’t know where he went, I don’t know,” she says
in a quavering voice. “What should we do?” She starts
crying.
Vic grabs her by the shoulders, “Hanna, don’t freak
out on me now. Run down to the barn and find Ike. Tell
him to bring the Land Rover to the front door.”
He pushes her toward the stable. “You can do this,
hurry. Toss me that blanket on your way out.” Vic points
to a fleece throw hanging over the back of an arm chair.
With her lower lip clenched between her teeth, Hanna
nods and tosses the blanket in Vic’s direction as she races
out of the room.
He squats down next to me on the couch. “Elle, what
can I do for you?”
Through the haze of pain, I look him straight in the
eye. “A shot of bourbon and a beer.” A weak attempt at a
joke.
“Not funny!”
“I don’t know.” I say, taking a deep breath. “I’m so
sorry for being such a bother, but I think I need a
doctor.” I hasten to add, “I’m sure it’s just some female
thing, I’ve heard of something like this happening to
women.” But why am I bleeding so much? Just because I
haven’t had a period in such a long time....
Oh no….
a
sudden horrible suspicion enters my mind……..tell me
I’m not this stupid………why does that seem to be my
mantra. I try counting back to my last period…….it’s not
possible, I can’t be pregnant…. I’m like old…… in
menopause……..or so I thought.
Vic brushes the hair back from my face. “I’ll call the
hospital and alert them that we are on our way and see if
they have any instructions for us.” He gently lifts me,
slipping the blanket underneath. “It’s okay, mia.” Vic
gives my arm a reassuring squeeze, though his face is
clenched in fear. “We can do this, we’ll do it together.”
…
I don’t remember much of the drive to the small
community hospital. I feel Vic’s arms holding me tight as
he rocks back and forth, saying over and over, “It will be
okay, it will be okay.” Echoed by Ike from the driver’s
seat saying, “She’s going to be fine, man. We’ll get her to
the hospital in record time.”
At one point I glance up to see Hanna, turned in the
front seat watching us, her eyes huge in her pale face. I
give her a reassuring smile, touched by her concern for
me……or more likely she’s terrified at the speed Ike’s
negotiating the curving mountain roads. Through pouring
rain, slick roads, and tortuous turns, Ike drives swiftly and
competently down the canyon road. Vic mentioned he
drove stock cars many years ago, if this drive is any
indication of his ability….. Jeff Gordon, move over.
As we pull up to the hospital, I’m suddenly
surrounded by bright lights, and people yelling directions.
Vic lays me on a gurney, and then everything goes black.
…
Oww….I wake up, groggy, disoriented, not knowing
where I am. Is it morning yet? I feel so rough. What
happened? For a moment I just lie still, I ache all over. As
I try to sit up, I feel a dull pain in my abdomen,
ugh….the cramps are still there.
With a huge effort I open my eyes and see I’m lying
in a dim room on a hospital bed. There’s a panel of
buttons to my right, and a bunch of flowers, black-eyed
Susans to be exact, on the nightstand.
With an inward gulp, I see an IV needle taped to my
right hand. Boy, I’ve had bad cramps before, but these
were doozies. This is unreal. I’m in a hospital.
Trying to sit up, I give a little moan and see Vic
asleep, half sitting in a chair, half slumped over the bed,
one hand clutching my leg.
“Hello?” I call out feebly. My voice sounds dry and
raspy. His eyes fly open at the sound.
“Hey,” he says, running a hand over a two day
stubble of beard growth. “How are you?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.” I say, wiggling to get
more comfortable, he leans over to help me to sit up.
Taking a small step back from the bed, he looks at
me, shaking his head, his face a mask of sorrow, two
small tears roll down his cheek. I can’t help thinking,
what?!
Am I dying…is it cancer…some rare incurable
disease. Tell me….!
“Elle,” He starts to speak, then looks away,
struggling to maintain his composure, his lips clenched to
hold back the grief. His voice wavers as he speaks, “You
had a miscarriage, Elle.”
“
What!
”
He says in a barely audible whisper. “You had a
miscarriage and I was too fucking stupid to realize what
was happening to you. I lost the last baby……and I lost
this one too.” He rocks back on his feet, rubbing the heel
of his palms into his eyes as his fingers clutch his hair.
“Why can’t I protect you? Why is it every time I am with
you, everything gets so fucked up. Here we are again, the
same story. What is wrong with us?” His voice a
tormented rasp, tears flow down his face, he hastily wipes
them away, but the pain is etched on his face.
“No,” I whisper. “It can’t be possible.” I’m stunned
with shock.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”
Oh my God,
How could I be
so
stupid? I feel like
someone gut punched me, and then threw me into a vat
of ice-cold water. A miscarriage, this can’t be possible.
“Vic, there must be some mistake.” I shake my head
in disbelief. “There is no way I was pregnant. They told
me years ago, there would be no more children,
something to do with a mild form of endometriosis. I
barely have a period anymore. Jack wanted a large Irish
family and it was a miracle we had two children. They
must be wrong.”
“You had a D
&C,
quierda
,
,
” he gently tucks a lock of
hair behind my ear, giving me a tender kiss on the
forehead. “The doctor said the baby was about twelve
weeks old. The timing fits the last time we were together.
Elle, we conceived another child.” He gives a weak laugh
and shakes his head. “Remember Bridget’s comment
about the horny monkeys?” He bites his lower lip, rolling
his eyes. “We’d fill an entire zoo with them. It seems
every time I touch you……” His voice turns bitter. “And
we never get to keep our babies.” He walks to the
window, and stands with hands on his hips, chest heaving
in anger. “Son of a bitch.”
My head is whirling;; I can’t believe it. A baby?
Pregnant again? I’m like…..
old
. Boy, talk about
miracles….or not.
Vic turns to me, holding up his hands in consolation.
“I know this doesn’t help, but the doctor said it was
probably a good thing you lost the baby. At your age, it
would have been difficult to carry the baby to term and
there’s a very high risk of birth defects.”
I feel the creeping tendrils of depression and loss curl
through my gut. At my age, I really don’t want another
child, but the thought of losing a baby is crushing. Tears
flow down my face, deep sobs rack my body. All the
anguish of losing our first child comes back with a
stabbing pain. I feel the bed compress under the weight
of his body as he lies down, gathering me close to the
warmth and safety of his arms.
“I’m sorry, Ella, my bella, bella,” his lips brush
tenderly against my hair. “I’m so sorry, darling.”
“Vic,” I reach my hand up to caress the beard stubble
covering his face, only enhancing his rugged beauty.
“Yes, love,” he answers his voice gravelly with
fatigue.
“I want my baby.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he leans into me, sighing. “I’ll
be honest; the thought of having a child never crossed
my mind. I just assumed we were beyond that stage in
our lives. You had said you were no longer….you
know…. So we were careless.” He shakes his head.
“No, Vic…”
“You want to try again?” He rolls onto his elbow
peering intently into my eyes. “I’ll be honest, mia,” he
caresses my face. “I think it’s too risky, I’m terrified of
losing you.”
“Vic,” I touch his lips with my finger, stopping the
torrent of words, smoothing back the long lank of hair
tied back with a strip of leather, I never did cut his hair
this weekend. I sigh; a wistful smile plays across my face.
I pull his face down to brush his lips with a whisper of a
kiss. “No, I want our son.”
“Our son?” He questions, a confused expression on
his face.
“Yes, our son, the one who was taken away from us.”
“I thought you tried to find him.”
“I did, but my resources were limited, and Jack wasn’t
keen on finding another man’s baby. Jack’s philosophy on
life;; what’s done is done, move on, live in the moment.” I
look out the window, and muse, “As much as I tried to
forget, sometimes…when Jack was away flying, the house
all quiet and lonely, the thoughts and the wondering
came. Did his adoptive parents tuck him in at night, read
stories, take him on walks in the woods; did he play
soccer or love baseball? I tortured myself with doubt. Did
they love him?”
Vic blows out a sigh. “I understand your feelings,” he
says, leaning back on the pillow. “Shit, I was a mess over
the whole thing,” he says, shaking his head.
“I think Jack was jealous of you.” I say with a sniff.
“He knew there was a piece of my heart that belonged to
you and that drove him crazy.” I take a deep breath. “He
once used that as an excuse for his affairs, that I never
stopped loving another man.” I caress his arm that lay
slung over my hip. “I did love him, maybe in a different
way, but he never let me talk about you or the baby.”
“They say you never forget your first love.” Vic
murmurs softly. “I never have, she always lingered at the
fringes of my mind.” The weak morning sun filters
through the diaphanous curtains blurring the outline of
trees bordering the hospital grounds.
“I know this sounds crazy, but Vic, could we…hire a
private investigator to find our son?”
He nods, thinking. “No, it doesn’t sound crazy at all,
in fact, it sounds sane……. very sane.”
As I drift off to sleep, the oddest thought floats
through my mind, whatever happened to the Betty Boop
underpants? Are they stashed with my clothes or
hopefully, a little pile of ash in the hospital incinerator?
After all this and I’m worrying about what I was
wearing…..that’s called female resilience.

Seated behind a mahogany desk in one of the most
prestigious law firms of New York City, Tee looks good.
Gone is the gawky teenager from camp; maturing into
her vision of the tall, sophisticated, beautiful executive.
The view from her office overlooks the Manhattan
skyline. Leaning back in a leather chair that costs more
than my car, her appearance exudes poise and confidence.
At ease in the corporate world, secure in her stature
earned by hard work and a dogged determination to
succeed. Vestiges of the gangly teenage girl from Camp
High Point, in pressed pink shorts and button down
shirts, vanquished into a polished professional woman.
She graduated at the top of her class from Cornell Law
School, never married and dates infrequently. As Lani’s
godmother, she dotes on my children, insisting they call
her, Auntie Tee. At birthdays and holidays, she satisfies
her maternal urges through extravagant gifts and
afternoon outings …..with returnable children.

Over lunch a few months ago, after a glass of
wine…or two, I confided in her that the search for our
son had reached a dead end. The adoption laws years ago
protected the adoptive parents not the birth parents. The
records were sealed. As one of my closest friends during
the emotional turmoil of losing Vic and the baby, Tee
understood my frustration. She listened with a
sympathetic ear, nodding as I filled her in on the details.I
turned to her, hoping for a loophole, were there any legal
paths for us to pursue, do birth parents have rights?