Behind Her Smile (20 page)

Heart thudding, I step backward until the backs of my knees bump into the soaking tub. “Of course, I stopped taking the pill.” I try to placate him, but my soft tone only incenses him.

He yanks his cell phone from his pocket and swipes a few times at the screen. “Make an appointment for Karolina to see Doctor Janet Denton. As soon as possible.” He disconnects the call without further instruction. His assistant is probably used to these abrupt demands.

“Where are the pills?” He yanks open drawers on my side of the vanity. Makeup, cotton balls, combs, brushes, and tampons fly in every direction.

“Listen to me.
Please.
” David whips around, eyes wild. I shrink further into my robe. “You’re not going to find any pills because I threw them all out.”

He lets out an undignified snort. “If I find out you’ve disobeyed me, and believe me, Karolina, I will find out, so help me, God . . .”

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
I’ve followed all of his rules. Done everything in my power to fulfill David’s image of the perfect wife and still he treats me like his personal punching bag. Maybe this will be the end of our marriage. If I can’t get pregnant, David will surely be done with me and I can be free.
And then what will you do?
a snide voice whispers in the back of my mind. I have nowhere to go. No friendship network of support.

“I’ll go to the doctor,” I concede. David looks triumphant, and I feel like I’ve swallowed a shard of glass. Tiny nicks destroy me from the inside out.

A couple of days later, I’m lying in the very vulnerable position at the gynecologist’s office. Legs splayed open and feet resting in stirrups, I stare at the ceiling. My doctor, Janet as she insists I call her, has an ultrasound probe inside my body while she takes a clearer look inside.

“Normally, we wait a full year before testing fertility, but your mother-in-law was a patient here for years. It’s my pleasure to be part of your family planning. I know Georgia would be thrilled to have a grandchild,” Janet says while she watches the screen. To me, it’s just a mess of blurry black, white, and gray lines.

Conflicting appointments kept David from being here with me. I’m thankful he’s not by my side because his tension would surely fill the room with unnecessary stress.

Without warning, Janet pulls the probe out of my body.

“You can go ahead and sit up,” she says lightly. Shuffling up on the table, I pull the paper gown tighter around my body and watch as she cleans the instruments and sets aside the samples she took from my body.

“We have good news and bad news. What do you want first?” She says this kindly, but my throat goes dry.

“Good news,” I say with a scratchy voice.

“There’s nothing wrong with you that I can see from this examine or in your patient history. You’ve never had an abnormal pap smear, I didn’t find anything on the ultrasound, and you’ve always been in good health. I don’t find anything that makes me worried. We’ll run a few tests and confirm my suspicions, but I still think it’s too early for concern about fertility,” she explains.

A heavy breath whooshes out of my mouth. “The bad news?”

“The bad news is I don’t have an answer for you today.”

The relief building in my chest deflates. “What do I tell my husband?” I ask weakly.

Snap.
Janet pulls off her plastic gloves and tosses them into one of those biohazard bins. She pumps an antibacterial gel on her hands and rubs the gel into her skin. Then she plops down on her rolling stool and slides over to me. She places her hands over mine.

“Pregnancy is much harder to achieve when you are under stress,” she tells me soothingly. “The body is too busy fighting off the tension to be focused on making a baby. My prescription for you and David is to ease up on yourselves. Go on a vacation. Relax. Remember this isn’t a chore. Enjoy your husband’s company because once the baby comes, everything changes. If, and only if, in six months, you aren’t pregnant, come back and see me and we’ll take it from there. Like I said, you don’t have any major risk factors to alarm us.”

If only Janet knew. Trying to make a baby with David is turning into a visit to the dentist. You don’t want to do it, but you know you have to.

“Don’t bother making an appointment for six months’ time. No need for that type of negative energy in the universe. We’ll talk then if not before.” Janet winks, and I muster up a forced smile. “Any questions?”

“No. Thank you, Janet,” I say hollowly.

“Excellent. Call me in the meantime if anything comes up,” she trills.

Dazedly, I watch her stand from the stool and vacate the room. What kind of doctor talks about negative energy in the universe? Isn’t that babble the opposite of scientific theory?

I go through the motions of getting dressed and smoothing my hair back into place around my shoulders. The unease brewing does not show on my face. Keeping my expression neutral, I leave the office and retreat to my car.

Staring out the windshield, I watch other cars move through the parking lot. Action escapes me, and I’m frozen. If I call David, he’ll only become furious because I don’t have a solution to our lack of fertility. What man will walk into the house later today? He could be angry enough to take out his aggression on me physically or emotionally. The doctor said we needed to enjoy this process. That’s not possible with a husband like David.

All I see in my future is more heartache. More pain, desolation.

I won’t do this anymore.

The car comes to life when I press the ignition button. I whip my seat belt across my chest and peel out of the parking spot. Mindlessly, I navigate the car across city streets, through stoplights and turns, until I reach 95 North. Then I’m flying, flying out of the city.

Freedom races through my veins. The possibilities ahead of me are limitless. I’m qualified to get a job as a seamstress. I can find a job in another state. Georgia is the closest. I’ll drive until I hit the state line and then find a motel. It doesn’t matter if I don’t have any money. I’ll live on my own terms and won’t be afraid of being hurt anymore.

I can do this. I
am
doing this.

When my car crosses into Palm Beach County, the first phone call comes in. Seeing his name on the dashboard computer screen sends a jolt of fear through me. Then I remember: he’s not here. I’m on my own for the first time in years.

Then the phone rings again. And again. Until the jangling tone of an incoming call has rung ten times. Each time the noise cracks through the silent cabin of the car, it frays my nerves even more. He won’t stop.

On the eleventh ring, I accept the call.

“Where are you going, Karolina?”

Silently, I stare at the traffic ahead.

David sighs, sounding like an exasperated parent. “There’s GPS tracking on your car. I always know where you are.”

“What?” I whisper in horror. Of course he knows where I am at all times. I shouldn’t be surprised that he would follow me.

“Yes, my jewel, I see you’re over an hour outside of the city. What did I tell you? You can’t hide anything from me. If you’re trying to run away, you can’t. I’ll find you and bring you back.”

My knuckles turn white where they grip the steering wheel. My stomach dips.

“Make this easier on both of us. Turn the car around and come back to Miami.”

“No.” The courage comes from somewhere buried long ago.

“Don’t fuck with me, Karolina. You are my
wife, and you belong to
me.
Do you really think you can survive on your own? You could hardly support yourself before I came into your life. You lived paycheck to paycheck and practically couldn’t afford the fabric to make the clothes you wore. What do you think is going to happen to you? Do you even have a full tank of gas? It would only take a few minutes to cancel your credit cards and cell phone. Without much cash, you’ll have nothing but that car and the clothes on your back. Then what? You aren’t smart enough to take care of yourself.”

“How—how . . .” I stammer, unable to make a coherent sentence because his words rock me to my core. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This plan is impulsive and ridiculous. What am I thinking?

“Turn the car around.”

I don’t want to. God, I don’t want to.

Alec can help you.
My fingers twitch at my side. With one touch, I could end this call and then press a few buttons and I’d have Alec on the phone. But I can’t. Stubborn pride and embarrassment make me clench my hand into a fist. This isn’t Alec’s problem to solve.

“Get back here,” David growls. “Now.”

My husband wins again.

And when I meet him back at the house, he delivers the worst punishment I’ve known as his wife. And with it, he takes the last bits of my courage and bravery.

T
wo pink lines. A plus sign. The actual word ‘pregnant.’ Three tests all with the same result. I am with child. Instinctively, my hand lowers to cup my still flat stomach. A rush of emotion overcomes me and tears fill my eyes.

Here I am, six months after the doctor’s appointment. Just like Janet promise. I am
with child.

On a whim, I picked up a pregnancy test this morning or, rather, three. It’s been four weeks since my last period, and even though I pretty much resigned myself to needing medical assistance to produce a baby, I decided to take the test.

David! Suddenly, I remember the other part of the equation and dash out of the bathroom, across the upper level of the house, and into the studio where I left my cell phone. I huff out a breath of relief when I realize it’s too late to call him in London.

Jittery energy races through me. I can’t be in the house any longer. I need to get out of here. Collecting my purse from my bedroom, I race downstairs and out to my car. Before I make it out of the drive, I lower the windows and push back the sunroof. With the wind tousling my hair, I drive with no destination in mind.

A
baby
and it will be mine to mold and cherish and dote on. Somehow, my heart swells even larger. Each thump reminds me that a tiny peanut is growing inside of me. I want to get every book about mothering and having a healthy pregnancy. No more caffeine or sushi dinners for me. I’ll have to stop coloring my hair . . . and those are only the things I’ve heard about from other women. I’m going to order prenatal vitamins and
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
from Amazon tonight
.
To start. I wonder if there are any expectant mother groups I can join in the city. Another thing to search online.

I end up driving to a public beach I visited when I was in college. This unpretentious place has a load of good memories for me. Dora would organize trips to the beach on the weekends, and whenever I wasn’t working or studying, I would hang out with her friends. Being here makes me miss those times with Dora. Since that awful fight at the Morgan charity gala, I haven’t spoken to her. She wouldn’t return my phone calls, and eventually, I stopped calling altogether.

When I reach the perimeter of the beach, I slip off my sandals and carry them. Grains of sand tickle my toes as I make my way toward the water. Not twenty feet away from the shoreline, my phone rings.

Unlisted caller. It can only be one person.

“Hello.”

“Is that the ocean I hear in the background?” Alec’s velvety voice wraps around me.

“What’s the going rate for that information?” The joke comes out raw.

Ever since I tried to leave David, he has wielded an even heavier rule of command over me. In the last six months, he demands that I check in with him regularly with texts and phones calls. Before going out of town on business, he reminds me that he’s always watching. What was left of my self-esteem is gone. David’s right, I wouldn’t survive on my own. I have nothing and no one but him.

Day by day, I dwindle toward oblivion. But a baby, oh a baby, gives me new purpose.

I shouldn’t be talking to Alec Christos today. Or any day, for that matter. I know I’m skirting a dangerous line because if David finds out I am friends with his rival, it won’t end well for me. But when I see Alec calling me, I have to answer. Alec reminds me that I am worthy, that I have something to offer. Alec believes in my potential. Right now, I need to be around someone who thinks I’m good enough.

“I’d be willing to lay down a dinner if you told me where I can find you,” Alec answers.

“I’m at Crescent Beach.”

“By yourself?” he inquires mildly, but I hear an undercurrent of tension.

“By myself.”

“It will be dark out soon.”

“There are plenty of people still around. But I appreciate your concern,” I say sincerely.

“Crescent Beach is near Cabello’s. Meet me there in fifteen?” It continues to confound me. This strong, assertive male doesn’t force any decision on me. I don’t understand why he doesn’t strong-arm me into what he wants . . . but it only endears me to him further.

“I could eat.”

“Good. See you soon.”

Ten minutes later when I enter the restaurant, I find Alec sitting in a booth along the far wall of the dining room. When our eyes meet, he rises to his feet, a smile playing on his lips.