The Trouble With Before (22 page)

I wait outside the room as Lisa changes into her gown. She calls me in once she’s changed. She’s lying on her back, and I can see her small bump. Most people who don’t see her every day wouldn’t even be able to tell she’s pregnant though. Grams hasn’t noticed, but I do, I’ve started to notice everything about her. Her pregnancy doesn’t just show in her stomach. It’s in her eyes, her glow—she’s beautiful.

“Are you nervous?” I ask, because my heart’s beating fast. I’m excited. I know something’s in there, but to see it is a totally different thing.

She cracks a small smile. “Sort of.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I tell her playfully, and she laughs.

She hasn’t said it, but with how things have been going and how she’s growing closer to Willa, I know she’s decided to keep the baby, and I’m going to do whatever I can to help her. I’ve even been thinking of suggesting she look at places in Chicago. I’m sure Willa will be going back and forth a lot since the Scotts will be helping Chris and Lauren. I know Lisa will need help when the baby comes. I’ve never made a bottle or anything, but it can’t be too hard. I might even change a diaper or two.

“Knock, knock.” The door opens and a middle-aged guy who sort of looks like Santa Claus comes in. “I’m Greg Brake. I’ll be checking on your little one today. Lisa Gregory?” He glances at the chart, then at us.

“Yup, that’s me.”

“Great! I’d hate to end up in the wrong room again,” he kids. He boisterously sits down near three large monitors. “This is your first ultrasound, right?”

“Yup. Well, for this pregnancy,” she answers quietly.

“They’re always exciting. I think I get to do the fun part . . . well, aside from delivering the baby,” He laughs.

I like that Greg is funny and has an easiness about him. He makes small talk and cracks jokes while he fires up his equipment and preps Lisa by pouring some weird goo on her stomach.

“This will probably be a little cold,” he tells her.

“She smiles anxiously.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he says happily as he starts to move the instrument across Lisa’s belly.

The speakers attached to the machine are loud with white noise. I watch him move the wand across her belly as she looks at the ceiling, her eyes darting across each tile as if she’s counting. I try to peek at the screen but it’s angled so that Lisa and I can’t see it.

“So do you get a picture with this one?” I ask.

Lisa looks at me and smiles. I look at Greg, but his whimsical expression has changed. His brows are furrowed together, and he’s concentrating intently. Lisa glances at him, obviously expecting for him to have answered as well.

“It’s probably based on hospital policy or something, right, Greg?” I ask, wanting to hear him say something.

“Um, it always depends.” He clears his throat, squinting at the screen.

My eyes dart to Lisa. She’s now looking at him instead of the ceiling tiles.

“Greg, buddy, everything okay? Do you need your glasses?” I joke.

He clears his throat again. “Just double-checking some things.”

His double-checking goes on in silence for fifteen minutes. I count each minute on my phone.

“I’ll be right back. You both sit tight,” he says, his voice higher than before as he pushes off the stool. He smiles, but it’s empty and seems forced.

Then he rushes from the room. I look back at Lisa, who seems completely still. When he closes the door, I ignore the tightening in my chest. Lisa sits up and rests on her elbows. She looks at me but doesn’t say anything.

“Is that normal?” I ask.

She only shrugs, scratching her head. I fight the urge to frown, and I swallow all my nerves. To end the silence eating up everything around us, I talk about IHOP and how I’m going to demolish some hash browns and eggs.

About ten minutes later, the door opens. This time it’s not smiling Greg; it’s one of the nurses.

“Hi, Lisa, we’re going to bring in another sonographer just to check things out,” she says quickly.

“Is everything okay?” Lisa asks with a sharp edge to her voice.

A short woman with thick glasses comes in, and the tension increases. She sits where Greg did and gives us a weak smile.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“I’m Malory Edwards, a diagnostic sonographer. I just wanted to go over some things that Greg didn’t.” Her voice is still and unwavering, not giving a hint of warmness.

She stares at the screen and moves the wand over Lisa’s stomach. Lisa’s eyes are closed now, and her lips are pressed tightly together. After what seems like the longest time, Ms. Edwards stops.

“Is something wrong?” Lisa’s voice breaks the stillness in the room.

“The doctor will be coming in to speak with you in a bit, but we’re going to move you over to the waiting room for right now, okay?”

Lisa’s eyes lock on mine, and my stomach drops several floors.

“Um, okay,” Lisa answers hesitantly.

EVERYTHING WAS
NOT
okay. The doctor explained it as disappearing fetus syndrome. She said that Lisa no longer had a fetus, but just a sac. It all sounded foreign to me. How could a baby just disappear? How could they not be able to do anything about it? The doctor did her best to explain to me how these things happen, but it seemed as if she was only explaining it to
me
. Lisa sat there, completely still with no expression on her face, like a mannequin. Dr. Morris went over everything in detail and what would happen next. It brought knots in my stomach that I hadn’t felt since being in Iraq. She explained that Lisa would have a procedure to finalize everything. Her words, not mine.
Finalize,
as if Lisa’s baby was a bad business deal coming to a close.

“Lisa?” Dr. Morris asks.

She gives the slightest nod to let us know that she’s heard us. Dr. Morris looks at me, and I’m at a complete loss. Lisa hasn’t said a single word since we left the ultrasound room. Dr. Morris stands and places a hand on Lisa’s shoulder.

“Is it . . . is there any chance he’s wrong?” Lisa’s voice is so weak, it doesn’t even sound like her.

Dr. Morris puts her head down. “I’m sorry, Lisa.”

I clench my fist, wanting to hit something, but this isn’t a problem I can fix.

“Take all the time you need,” she says quietly before leaving Lisa and me alone.

Lisa’s vacant eyes look past me. I let out a long breath. I don’t know what to say to her, what would be the wrong thing or right one. I don’t know what she’s thinking. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling. I wish I had someone else here, someone who could get through to her. Who could say something profound and tell her convincingly that she’ll get through this.

She was just starting to be okay, starting to convince herself that she could be a good mom. The Lisa before all of this happened was peeking through, the Lisa who laughed and didn’t seem as if she was carrying a weight around her neck, who used to be happy and optimistic. Right now, it looks as if that girl’s gone, and I don’t know who this one is.

I lean forward, setting my arms on my knees. “Leese, what do you want to do?”

She’s still, and brings her eyes to mine to let me know that she hears me. I see her hands are shaking on her lap, but she hasn’t said anything.

“I can’t go through seeing it . . .” Her voice is barely more than a whisper. “I’m not strong enough to handle . . .” She stops, her shaky voice on the cusp of breaking, but she presses her lips together and a single tear leaves her eye.

I nod, letting her know I understand.

“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes are watery, but I think she’s doing everything she can to not let them fall. I notice she’s looking at her stomach, her hands cupping it.

“Lisa, the doctor said it wasn’t your fault,” I tell her, commanding my own voice to steady.

“I’m so sorry,” she says again. This time, her voice breaks and tears pour from her eyes.

I run over and pull her into me. She’s limp in my arms, and it’s not just her hands trembling now. It’s her whole body. She keeps repeating those words over and over.

I want to tell her it’s going to be okay, but after my father passed, everyone kept telling me that and it was as useless as toilet paper to a dog. They didn’t know if my family would be okay. After the funeral, no one even came to make sure that we were.

So instead, I just hold her and tell her, “I’m here. You’re going to get through this.” My words aren’t empty; it’s a promise. No matter what, I’m going to make sure she gets through this.

They schedule the procedure for Lisa that evening. After we leave the clinic, we go straight to the hospital, and Lisa barely says a word before the procedure. Afterward, barely turns to nothing.

Dr. Morris said that she’d be a little out of it due to the drugs she was given, and she let me know the things Lisa would need. So while Lisa is in surgery, I go to the store and get everything Dr. Morris wrote on the list. I’ve never been in
this
aisle before and it’s confusing, but one of the workers helps me out. I’ve never been so thankful for help in my whole life.

Our ride home is quiet except for the music on the radio. I keep it on her favorite station, but this time, there’s no humming or singing. I help her into the house and to her room. I try to think of something to say, something important enough for her to respond to, but everything seems so trivial. I wish she’d say something, but then I remember she probably wishes that what happened tonight never did. Nobody’s wishes are coming true tonight.

She sits on her bed carefully and stares at her lap.

“Oh, I got you the stuff.” Nerves spread from my stomach to my throat like bile that needs to come up.

I run out to the car and bring her the bag of stuff Dr. Morris told me to get. I hand it to her, and she opens it and looks through it quickly before setting it on the floor.

“Thank you Aidan.” Hearing her speak shocks me. Her voice is low and hollow and almost unrecognizable.

“It was nothing.” I stand around feeling like a bump on a log. “Do you need me to get you anything? Something to drink, a snack or something?”

She shakes her head. “I’m just going to lie down.” Her eyes are red and downcast, her despair contagious.

I wish I could take it all for her. I’d carry it all to see her eyes light up again.

“Okay. If you need anything, let me know,” I say before I head out the door.

She doesn’t say anything this time.

I wander around the house aimlessly. I open the fridge and look at the groceries she bought yesterday. The fridge hasn’t been this full since Grams started dating her boy toy. I wipe down the kitchen counter even though it’s clean and sweep up the stray glitter that must have come off the book Lisa made for Willa. She brings it every time she comes over and makes one of us read it to her. I know the story like the back of my hand by now, and it’s actually pretty good.

I collapse on the couch in front of the TV. I want to sleep, but my mind is reeling from everything that happened today, how everything was good and just flipped in an instant. Then I remember I left my phone in the car and I haven’t looked at it all day. I go grab it and scroll through text messages from the girls I’ve been seeing. I have one text from Chris, asking if I’m coming up this weekend. I text him back no. A boob pic from Hillary sort of gets me to smile, and I see one message from Tara.

Shit, I was supposed to meet her for drinks.

Thanks for standing me up.

I sigh. I can’t call her now. It’s ten, and I was supposed to meet her at eight. I sit up on the couch and decide to tell her the truth.

I’m really sorry. It’s just not a good time for me to date anyone.

I head to my room and stop as I hear crying. I stop at the guest room door and hear that she’s stopped. I contemplate knocking, but fuck it. I crack open the door. It’s dark except for the lamp illuminating her face. Tears are coming down it as she stares at the ceiling. She covers her face, her blond hair sticking to it.

“Leese,” I say quietly. I don’t know if I should leave or say something. So I do neither.

I walk over to the bed and carefully climb over her. I lie down next her and pull her toward me and tell her to let it out. She wraps herself around me and lets go completely. I hold her and rub her back until she falls asleep.