Seven Years of Bad Luck (33 page)

I somehow managed to drive home without killing myself or someone else. I curled up into my bed and turned off my phone, just before the heart wrenching sobs began again. I cried until exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I drifted off. I dreamed of a beautiful baby girl with blue-green eyes and chocolate brown hair swaddled in a pink blanket as Ben rocked her slowly back and forth in his loving arms. I woke from sleep to a banging noise. I rubbed my puffy eyes and rolled out of my bed. I swung my bedroom door open to a very irritated Cheyenne. “Just where the hell have you been? I have been trying to call you since yesterday. What the hell happened to your face, Kat? Jesus!”

“Hmph! Your humor and wit goes unmatched Cheyenne. Really amusing,” I said flatly as I turned my back to her and crawled back into my bed.

“Stop being a smart ass. I’m serious; you look terrible. Is it Ben?”

“Don’t,” I demanded then pulled my quilt over my head to hide my face.

“It is Ben,” she said sympathetically.

“Cheyenne, I don’t really want to discuss it. Please don’t push the issue.” I admonished, and she sighed in resignation.

“Okay, but I’m here when you are ready to talk.”

Don’t hold your breath.

“Tucker brought me over so that we could get the rest of my things over to his house, well our house, I guess.” She giggled like a teenager. I rolled my eyes beneath my quilt at her pleased laughter. It was wrong of me and extremely selfish, but I just couldn’t conjure one ounce of happiness at that moment for my best friend who had found and gotten engaged to the man who truly was her soul mate. They were happy and eager to get married. He moved her into his lovely home and gave her anything that her heart desired. It stunk. It made my skin crawl. I was being shallow, I knew, but didn’t have discipline to control the green-eyed monster. I wanted to run in the opposite direction from society as a whole and find some deserted island to inhabit. As lovely as the idea sounded, it was just a daydream. However, I did have plenty of money in my savings to live off of, and through my digging into the whole John the criminal situation, I became quite educated in the field of high yield investments.

Hmm, maybe I can play the stock market. Take a risk and hope for a hefty return
.

I mused inwardly.

Something to focus on. I need to focus on something. I’ll play the investment game and figure out where the baby and I will live.

I was pleased with my plans, though I knew gambling on the investments was irresponsible with a child on the way. I wasn’t sure if I would be staying in Dallas. I wasn’t even sure if I would tell Ben about the baby after all. He was obviously dating someone else, and I simply refused to be the knocked-up ex who came calling and screwed up his new relationship. I wouldn’t embarrass myself. The thought of telling him about the baby while knowing damned well that he had moved on made me feel sick to my stomach and completely cheap. I didn’t know if I could bring myself to do it. I made the decision to make things work on my own for the time being. There would be no way in hell I would speak a word of the news to anyone until I was far enough along to be more sure that I was having a healthy pregnancy.

Three days later, I went to my second OB appointment. Monday, August 26th, 2013. Day 96 since my first day at the firm. I sat in the waiting room staring at the artistic paper mâché belly molds that hung on the walls. There were around a dozen of them scattered on the walls, hanging like paintings would. The multicolor molds varied in size and shape. Big round bellies, more pointy narrow bellies, wide bellies, small bellies, large bellies. Each mold was from the pelvic bone to the top of the breasts. I assumed that these had to be cast on the form of real pregnant women. Each one was so unique and real, I doubted anyone would be able to create them artificially.

A petite nurse interrupted my admiration of the art when she called me back to see the doctor. She was the same nurse that I met at my first appointment a few days prior. At the time, I had only met with the nurse. She collected samples for lab tests to confirm my pregnancy, and I was given a brief rundown of what to expect at my first real appointment. This time, she had me undress, and I sat and waited nervously. A knock came from the door.

“Yes, come in,” I said. The older female extended her hand to me, and I shook it.

She smiled warmly. “Hello, I am Dr. Lisa Miller; pleasure to meet you, Ms. Cooper.”

“Please, call me Kat.”

“Okay, Kat. Let’s get started. We are going to do an ultrasound to determine how far along you are since you are unclear on when your last menstrual period was.” She smiled again, and I suddenly felt like an irresponsible teenager.

How can I be so confused about my dates
?

I kicked myself inwardly. I had been so distracted with Ben, the investigation, and our breakup that I didn’t even pay attention to myself. I knew I must have gotten pregnant when I missed two pills while I was being held against my will by John’s goons. I caught up on the two pills I missed as soon as I could. I read the information on the prescription, and it did say that catching up was possible, so that’s what I did. I read further after I found out about the baby, and the rest of the paragraph informed me that while you can catch up after missing a pill or two, effectiveness would be decreased. In short, screw up and miss pills, you can take them, but you are taking a gamble. Dr. Miller rolled the ultrasound machine to my bedside. The nurse, who stood on the other side of the table, guided my feet into stirrups.

“You may feel a bit of pressure, but that is normal. Here we go.” The screen next to me was all unclear and distorted. I had no clue what I was seeing.

“Mhmm,” Dr. Miller mused. “Just there, Kat. See this?” She pointed to a shape on the screen that looked like a peanut. I gasped, and tears filled my eyes.

“Oh, I see it.” I said softly, in complete awe of my tiny baby.

“These are the little buds that will develop into arms and legs. The head is here and that fluttering thing you see here is the heart,” she said as she pressed a key on the machine and the sound of my baby’s heartbeat filled my ears. It sounded so fast and strong. Tears spilled from my eyes, and thoughts of Ben came rushing over me.

Ben. Oh, Ben should be here. He should see and hear the baby. Our baby.

“Everything looks and sounds great, Kat. From the measurements, it looks like you are about eight weeks pregnant. The baby appears normal and healthy. Congratulations! Would you like pictures?”

“Oh, yes please!” After Dr. Miller briefed me on all things early pregnancy, she handed me the ultrasound photos and a prescription for prenatal vitamins. I scheduled my next appointment on my way out of the clinic. Once I was back in my apartment, I found myself staring at the photos of the baby. I was enchanted with my child already. I couldn’t help but wonder if Cheyenne would ever get to experience what I did earlier that day.

“Oh shit! Cheyenne!” I squealed as I abandoned the bottle of prenatal vitamins and photos on the kitchen counter to retrieve my cell phone. After sending her a short text to let her know I was alive and well, I began to worry about her wedding.

Shit! Shit! Shit! The bridesmaid dress, will it fit? Will I show at all? SHIT!

I stopped pacing the floor of my living room and forced myself to take a deep breath. “Okay, just think, Kat.” I said to an empty room.

I should only be about twelve weeks pregnant by the time the wedding rolls around. I shouldn’t be showing, right? Lots of women are able to hide their condition well into the pregnancy. Yes. I will just have to be smart about it until I can find a way to tell Cheyenne
.

Cheyenne’s wedding was in just over four weeks on Saturday, September, 28th. According to a calendar that my doctor gave me, my baby was due on April ninth. At the time of Cheyenne’s wedding, I would be twelve weeks pregnant, and conception was around the middle of July. My chain of thought ceased and wandered off, thinking about the timing of conception.

We broke up in the middle of July. A break-up baby. Oh God, that’s awful.

My heart broke a little bit more with the realization that the little life I carried had been conceived right before we split up. Ben essentially dumped me, but gave me a gift in the process, even if he did it unknowingly. I still couldn’t believe that I was going to have a baby. It had been weeks since Ben and I had last spoken, and I was no less devastated as the days passed. I still missed him desperately. Maybe even more as each day turned into the next. I felt so empty and alone in my apartment now that Ben was done with me, and Cheyenne was moving steadily into her very own happily ever after. Life went on without me. I was a painfully lonely, unemployed divorcee who got knocked up by a man that I had fallen hard for. I was utterly heartbroken and very conflicted about whether or not to tell Ben about my pregnancy. For the time being, I was resigned to a self-enforced gag order.

I ate half-stale cereal for dinner that night and watched an infomercial selling a fancy vacuum cleaner that I had zero interest in buying, but I watched numbly anyway.

I woke the next morning thanks to a powerful urge to vomit. I jumped from the couch and tripped over the cereal bowl from the previous night that lay on the floor. I barely made it to the bathroom in time.

Hello, morning sickness. Ugh!

After I rinsed my mouth and brushed my teeth, I returned to my spot on the couch to watch things I had recorded on my DVR. There was a loud knock on the door. My heartbeat sped up. I tiptoed to the door in my ratty clothes and looked out of the peephole, but the damn thing had been broken for a while; there was moisture trapped inside hindering a clear view of visitors. I groaned, reached for the baseball bat I kept around for safety, and swung the door open.

“Kathleen.”

I nearly passed out.

What is he doing here?

I drew my own private conclusions while staring at him. “Do you mind if I come in for a minute?”

“No, not at all, come right on in,” I said shaking my head while abandoning him at the wide open door to return the baseball bat to its position in the corner. “Have a seat,” I said, motioning the loveseat opposite me. I flopped back down on the couch and pressed play on my remote, resuming my show and completely ignoring him. I didn’t care that he was sitting in my apartment, nor did I care to know the reason for his visit. I was in far too dark a place to give a shit about anything. Least of all him.

“You look terrible, and so does your place,” he said while surveying his surroundings. I joined in critiquing my home. Cereal bowl on the floor, empty water bottles scattered about, dirty laundry piled up in the corner, and there was a faint odor of vomit thanks to the morning sickness that had me racing to the bathroom just before he arrived.

“Gee, thanks Aidan, great to see you too,” I stated with feigned sincerity.

“Kathleen, listen I heard about what happened to you last month. I can’t believe you went through that. You should have called me.”

“For what, Aidan? Honestly, we’re divorced! I won’t even ask how you got my address.” I muttered the last bit shaking my head.

“I called your mom when I heard about what happened and told her I wanted to send you some flowers, and she gave it to me.”

Of course she did.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“I’m fine.”

He guffawed loudly at my proclamation of being fine.

“You are anything but!”

I scoffed indignantly at my ex-husband and did my best to divert my attention to the TV screen.

“Fine, Aidan, whatever. You can leave now.”

“I’m going nowhere. You obviously have something going on and could use some help around here.”

“Stubborn and bossy as always,” I said disapprovingly and added a tsk-tsk for good measure.

“Come out with it, Kathleen.”

“Fine, I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’m pregnant!” His jaw dropped. “Yep, that’s right Aidan. Pregnant. Knocked up. I fell in love with a guy, but I screwed it up by being… me. Then I found out about the pregnancy. He has since moved on with his life and now has a girlfriend. Cheyenne is engaged to prince fucking charming and has moved in with her soon-to-be husband. I’m unemployed and to top it all off, my ex-husband has just walked into my apartment and is currently staring at me like I have lost my freakin’ mind, which drives me up the damn wall and makes me want to kick him in his balls!” I shouted the last bit, and his eyes grew wide and amused. “I don’t see a damn thing funny here, Aidan!”