Trapped (23 page)

Chapter Forty-Three (Weeks 22-23)

My periods of sleep and consciousness have become clearer, although some dreams are so lifelike that they blur the distinction. Each morning—at least, I think it’s morning by the increase in activity around me—I’m more aware of what’s going on. I can’t move or see, but my sense of touch and hearing improve. I struggle to recognize sounds. For the first time, I feel something pushing on my skin—maybe squeezing my muscles.

I will my fingers to move
—nothing.

I try to wiggle my toes
—nothing.

I try to open my eyes, and this time it’s different, like I can, but something’s interfering.

Where am I?

What’s wrong with me?

I feel my heart racing.

I begin to sweat.

What is it?
Thought Mike’s nurse, as she scanned her patient. Nothing had changed, yet she sensed that something was different.

Lisa continued working whenever she could, but turned down several shifts. She didn’t have the energy. She loved the distraction, no—she needed it. Moreover, the NICU revealed the best of humanity: the love of parents, the dedication of the staff, and the feeling that she was doing something important with her life.

Mike’s partners were supportive. They found oppo
rtunities to spend time with Lisa, making sure she knew they cared.

As painful as it was, she still found her head jerking to the sound of the door opening, waiting to see Mike’s smiling face enter the NICU.

Lisa and Phoebe had the day off. After visiting Mike in the morning, they drove to
Classico,
an outdoor café near the Rockridge Bart station. They sat under the multicolored umbrella, which protected them from the bright noon sunlight.

“I love my work, Phoebe, but it has its downside.”

“What job doesn’t?”

“I’m not just thinking about myself
, now. I’m thinking of him. I lived for the thrill of the NICU, the pace, the action. Now I’m thinking, at what price? When I consider the daily stress of trying to be there for Mike, and the emotional price of working in NICU, I ask myself, can that be good for my baby?”

Phoebe’s knowing
smile said as much as her words. “You’re right, Lisa. I don’t know how millions of babies manage to be born, survive, and do well without the mother living in a cocoon for nine months.”

Lisa
, too, smiled. “Always the sympathetic ear, Phoebe. That’s one reason I love you. Even when we disagree, I still feel you care. That’s part of what makes me love Mike, too.”

“I’ll write that comment off to hormone-induced sentimentality.”

“You don’t give an inch, do you? Anyway, sweetie, you’re gonna love this: I’ve joined Holistic Harmonies for Health (HHH), a spirituality-based program for interacting and influencing my baby.”

“Well,” smiled Phoebe, rolling her eyes. “What can I say?”

“I want to bond with my baby, reduce stress, practice joy, and find inspiration and insight over the soulscape of my existence.”

“
‘Soulscape’? I’m going to be sick,” Phoebe burst out with laughter.

Lisa had to join her.

“He’s on the move, again,” Lisa said, clutching her abdomen. “Every time we argue, Phoebe, he has to stick his two cents in.”

They ordered oriental chicken salad. Phoebe ordered a glass of Chardonnay.

“I’m tempted to order a glass of wine,” Lisa said.

“You can’t make up your mind, Lisa. I thought it was healthy baby
, or be damned?”

“The risk of a single glass of wine once in a while has been overstated in this country. In most parts of the world, especially
in Europe, women continue to drink on occasion without any adverse effects.”

The salads arrived. Lisa took a bite
, and then said, “Mike would hate this, it’s full of cilantro. He had a thing about it, you remember. I couldn’t bring it in the house.”

“I see why you two get along so we
ll; you both are certifiable.”

Lisa gasped
, and then held her belly. “Something’s wrong!”

Phoebe put down her fork, swallowed the last mouthful
, and said, “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know, but something’s upset him. He’s churning and thrashing inside me.” Lisa rubbed her
abdomen, trying to get comfortable, but the movement continued.

“I guess he hates cilantro,” Phoebe
said, smiling. “After all, he’s Mike’s son.”

“Maybe there’s something to genetics
, after all,” Lisa said as she pushed the plate away.

The waiter, noticing Lisa’s discomfort, said, “Is everything okay?”

“Is it possible that I can get the oriental chicken salad without the cilantro?”

“Of course,” he said, taking the plate away. He returned a moment later with a new salad.

Lisa took the first bite, and then stared at her abdomen, awaiting a response. The baby twisted several times more before becoming calm.

Nora called the next day. “Are you up for lunch?”

“That would be great,” Lisa said.

“Are you sure it’s okay? We can easily bring something in to eat.”

“No. Pick me up at
eleven-thirty. I’ll be ready.”

“Ask Sandy to come along.”

“She’s back home in Grass Valley.”

They drove to Vic Stewart’s Restaurant, the 1891 converted train depot in Walnut Creek
.
The maître d’ seated Nora, Lisa, Lilly, Sally, and Emma in a stateroom in the attached Pullman car.

“I love this place,” Lisa
said. “Mike did, too.”

“We know,” Lilly
said. “Almost every place in this area carries memories of Mike.”

“You look wonderful,” Emma
said. “Pregnancy sure agrees with you. How are you feeling?”

How much detail is appropriate?
Lisa thought.

“I’m feeling well, but this bleeding and the clot in the placenta keep me and my obstetrician on edge. We’re doing everything possible to protect the baby.”

“Some women go to bed for months,” Nora said with a hint of disapproval.

The mother-in-law finally arrives
,
Lisa
thought
.

“I’ve discussed it extensively with Harvey Russo, my OB, and
, for now, we’re opting for measured mobility. I may wind up in bed, yet.”

They ordered lunch. The quiet stateroom was perfect for
intimate conversation.

Lisa ordered a sushi appetizer and salmon.

Nora and Mike’s sisters ordered salads, and each woman, except Lilly, ordered a glass of wine.

Looking at Lilly’s glass of merlot, Lisa licked her lips. “Can I have a sip of your wine? I miss it so.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Nora asked, “I mean, with you being pregnant, and all?”

“It’s fine,” Lisa
said. “It’s only a sip. It won’t hurt.”

Lilly handed the glass to Lisa, who took a generous sip,
and then said, “Oh, I took too much. Let me buy you another glass.”

“You really do miss it,” Lilly
said. “If I want more, I’ll order another.”

Since lunch, Nora had been brooding. At first it was about Lisa’s behavior, but then she became angry. By early evening, she’d had enough, and was on the phone to Lilly, Sally, and Emma. “I want to see all of you. And, I mean right now.”

“I can’t
, Mother,” Sally said, “I have an early morning meeting in Silicon Valley.”

“I don’t give a damn. I want you all here. This is too important.”

Emma was the last to arrive
, and found them sitting at the dining room table sipping tea.

“It’s about time,” Nora
said.

“Calm down
, Mother,” Lilly said. “What’s the matter?”

Nora shrugged her shoulders
, and took another sip of tea. Then she poured a cup for Emma, and topped off her daughter’s cups. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been fuming since lunch. That girl’s too cavalier for my taste.”

“I knew it,” Lilly
said, “something was bothering you at lunch. You’re the world’s worst poker player.”

“What are you talking about, Mother?” Emma
asked.

“Well,” Nora said, “I’m the last one to tell a
girl how to live her life, but we have an investment in Lisa and this baby.”

“You’re kidding, Mother,” Sally
said. “And, by the way, Lisa’s a woman, not a girl.” She paused. “And, Mother, you do love to tell everyone how to live their lives. It’s part of your charm.”

“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” Lilly
said. “We all love Lisa like a sister. She and the baby may be all we have left of Michael.”

“Exactly,” Nora
said. “I don’t want to substitute my judgment for hers, but this is our baby, too.”

Lilly looked upward. Sally and Emma shook their heads.

“I still don’t know what has you so angry,” Lilly said.

“Well, for a start, did you see what she ate?”

“Fish?” Sally said.

“Sushi
, first—raw fish—and then salmon. Who knows what’s in that stuff. We all know about mercury in fish.”

“I wouldn’t worry about sushi served in a place like Vic Stewart’s,” Lilly
said, “and, unless you’re eating fish every day, I wouldn’t worry about mercury, either.”

“If that wasn’t bad enough, she had coffee, and
, unbelievably, she had some wine. If that isn’t the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever heard, then I don’t know what is.”

“It was decaf, Mother,
” Lilly said, “and one sip of wine—get real.”

“She shouldn’t have either. It’s too dangerous. I want her to stop.”

Sally scanned the group, and then focused on Nora. “If I get pregnant, I’m moving to South America.”

Nora turned to face Lilly directly, staring at her oldest daughter.

“Oh no, Mother. Not me. Find another fool for this errand.”

“Very dramatic, Lilly,” Nora
said, “but you’re the one Lisa likes and respects the most. She’ll listen to you.”

“Mother, I’m not going to criticize Lisa. I love her, and I don’t want to compromise our relationship based on your overreaction.”

Nora turned away from her daughters, and cried. After a moment, she turned again toward Lilly. “Please, talk with her.”

When Lilly called and asked to meet for coffee in the middle of the afternoon, Lisa knew something was wrong. Lilly had a busy schedule, which didn’t permit time off in the middle of the day.

They met at Starbuck’s in Walnut Creek
, and sat under a multicolored umbrella in the early afternoon sun.

Lilly smiled at Lisa
, and said, “You look wonderful. How are you feeling?”

“Physically, I feel great, but it’s not easy to live with the threat of losing your baby.”

“It must be difficult,” she said, studying the table top.

“Lilly, what’s up? I know this wasn’t a casual invitation.”

Lilly looked up into Lisa’s eyes, and said, “We have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“It’s Nora.”

“Is she sick?”

“No, not really, although in a way, yes. She asked me to talk with you, to be her messenger, but I can’t do that without compromising our relationship. I won’t do that.”

“Why does she need a messenger? Can’t she pick up the phone
, or talk with me in person?”

“We all have our weaknesses, Lisa, and Nora has hers. When Aaron died, he left Nora with four kids and few financial resources.
She devoted her life to her family, and as much as she loved us, her daughters, Mike was special. His condition is tearing her apart.”

“Tearing
her
apart? What about me?”

“Please, Lisa, I’m trying to help you understand
Mother better.”

“You’re making excuses for her, Lilly. Why?”

“She wants this baby, Mike’s child, and it’s reached the point of obsession.”

“For a tough
-talking attorney, you’re doing an interesting dance, here. What’s so terrible that you can’t get to it?”

“In court or in business negotiations, I can be tough. With Nora, I regress to a child
—it’s ridiculous. I still have difficulty in saying no to the woman, Lisa. I told her she was wrong, but she’s upset by the way you’re handling your pregnancy.”

“Upset?”