"Sorry," I say already knowing that this won't do much.
"Just come on." She demands. I catch up to her and go right in the intersection. Damn it. Eenie meanie minie moe has failed me.
We walk awkwardly next to each other until the nurses station is in view. Tabitha nervously sits in a chair, staring at the floor. I honestly don't know if she is more worried about me or the baby. When she hears my footsteps, her head jolts up. She stands when she sees me. She clutches her black handbag. She is way too anxious. I think she would benefit from two days here. Nurse Juay walks me up to the counter and hands me a clipboard from it. With it in my hands, I feel all of the power she had over me yesterday. A sly grin comes across my face. I feel victorious. I let myself think that I outsmarted them but the only reason why I can leave early is because I'm pregnant. I totally outsmarted them by not using protection.
"Just sign at the bottom," she says.
I hold the pen against the paper and scribble something resembling my name. I hand it back to her and the sense of freedom is overwhelming. I know I was only here for two days but there is nothing here for me anymore. All I had at the end of it was Brook but now that's just another sore memory.
"Are you ready to go?" Tabitha asks. It's so nice to hear her voice again. She is my sanity majority of the time. I just wish I could always keep her with me like a good luck charm around my wrists.
"Ready as ever."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: THE LIFE GUARD
I groan and rub my stomach. Sleeping peacefully has grown impossible. The more my belly swells, the harder it is to feel comfortable. I don't even know how far along I am at this point. Somewhere around two months, most likely. The birds won't stop chirping.
Maybe if they could get to sleep, I could get too. The sunlight pours on me harder and brighter by the minute. I don't see any progress, any time soon.
"Fucking fine!" I call out to the sleep Gods. I throw the comforter off of me, stand and give the middle finger to the sun. Typical morning, I'd say. I walk out of the room and into the hallway that has no windows. Its cool and dark, the perfect place for a bat like myself. I crouch down and attempt to sit but I just do the pregnant woman roll. Half of my body goes one way and the other half is dragged with the child the other way. I know I am complaining a lot for someone who is barely showing but honestly, I already feel bloated as hell. I can't imagine how I'm going to feel in six months. I shudder. Six more months of this and it's going to get worse? Why fuck did I sign up for this. I groan loudly—much louder than I anticipated in fact.
"Are you ok?"
I look towards the voice and I see Tabitha peering out of her bathroom, a curling iron in one hand and half curled strand of hair in the other.
"Yup," I sigh. "This pregnancy thing just sucks."
"Well, you have your appointment today so you'll get some comfort from that."
This throws me off-guard.
"Appointment?"
"Did you forget?" Tabitha asks me.
"I guess just with all of the mental hospital stuff I got lost in all of it," I say, my eyebrows furrowing. "I feel so shitty for forgetting."
I rub my stomach. I don't ever want to forget about my baby. I promise to myself that this will never happen again. Even if I am a terrible person, I will be a wonderful mother. This is the only standard I will place myself under. I am not doing this for me, but them.
"It's really ok," Tabitha chuckles, "It's called 'pregnancy brain,' lots of women experience it."
A cry is heard throughout the upstairs. Margaret has woken up which means that no matter what her mother was initially doing, she has to drop immediately to go tend to her. Tabitha puts the curling iron down gently and brushes back her hair. She takes longer to respond than I assumed she would. Perhaps there is some weird mental thing that makes you start to ignore the kid after a certain amount of time; or she has become immune to the blood curdling yelps. She walks through the hallway, continuing our conversation through the sobs.
"I went to the doctor's without shoes on for my 20 weeks scan," She laughs at herself, "I laugh now but I was pissed then."
I know she is intending to make me feel better but it doesn't help much. I still feel like total trash. She walks into Margaret's nursery and the squealing stops. She walks back out with the toddler in her arms. She bounces gently with the child which seems to calm both of them. I look at Margaret. Her frown is progressively changing to a smile now that she is in her momma's arms. She is so happy and satisfied. Her waning smile reflects the knowledge that she has a loving set of parents who will do anything for her. At such a young age, she knows this. I hope that my baby will know that they will have a loving mother. I may not be able to provide the father figure but I will never abandon my baby.
"Will they be able to tell me if it's a boy or girl?" I ask Tabitha. My eyes remain on Margaret. It is hard to take your eyes off of a giggling 2 year old.
"You are 8 weeks right?" She asks.
"Yeah, almost I think," I say. My stomach has begun to swell and will continue at a rapid rate. I wonder if I will have a basketball belly like all of the thin women who keep their figure but have a huge belly. Or maybe I'll be the kind of pregnant that you can't tell. My stomach will just blend with the rest of my overly swelled body. I hope it is the first.
"I'm not sure," She says, "Maybe."
She looks at Margaret. We share a moment. We both understand what it means to be a mother. Although I am not one yet, I am being to fill the impulses grow. I know that all of my reflexes won't fully make themselves known until my child will no longer need them. That is the curse of knowledge. You learn it when you no longer need it. I look at Tabitha. She watches her child in total disbelief. Her baby is growing into a fully grown human before her eyes; before my eyes. I have stayed at her house for over two months now (minus the hiccup at the hospital) and the change is enormous. I wonder if God made it that way so that mothers get scared of time but at the same time, can't wait for it to pass. The eternal chase that you both love and hate.
"Are you going to call Noah?" She asks me. She looks worried. She has been bothering me for the last month to actually contact him. I want to but I can't. I haven't told her about my run in with Kane because if she actually knew the enormity of event, especially the death threat, she would force me to call him. But if I don't see him, he will be ok. I know that I am weighing too much on Kane's words because I know him and he will hurt Noah no matter what. The spiral begins. No. I take a deep breath. In for four, hold for six, out for eight.
"Well, I'm going to go take a nap." I smile at her. This hallway is getting shorter and shorter the more I move through it. I wonder how quickly Tabitha and Mark march through it at this point. I open my door and throw myself on the bed. The cushions catch my momentum and stop me from bouncing off. I look up 128 tiles. As I look up, my face relaxes and the sun from outside burns my eyes, even though the light comes in at an angle. Bits of the sunshine reflect on the white tile. Small circular swirls show on the ceiling like replicated puddles of fire. I look to my night stand. I have a mural of mistakes. The picture of Kane, Tabitha and I is stood up right and right below it lays the carved sandstone fish that Brook gave me.
The door squeaks open and Tabitha peers her head in.
"I don't suggest you nap for very long. The appointment is in only two hours."
I sigh. Maybe it's a good thing the incessant UV rays woke me this morning.
"Alright," I say, exhausted. I stand yet again and look in my wardrobe. I know I want to wear as much of this stupid as possible before I am too big to even squeeze my head passed the neckline. I grab out a long shirt and old jeans. Pair with my Chuck's, and I'll look like a 50s Greaser in no time. This outfit is most comfortable and easiest to slip on. I put on the t-shirt and feel all of the memories sink into my skin. If I press my nose on just the right spots, I may be able to smell my granddad. I wear this whenever I have a hard night. Although the reality of his sweet hand is much darker, I like to pretend that I have had at least one family member who is slightly sane. I sigh, pull on my jeans, tie up my Chuck's and walk out. Tabitha has since turned on the hallway light. Now LED rays pierce my eyes. They are so much harsher than natural light. I never understood why somebody would want them in their house.