Karma Kameleon. Stephanie Haefner

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ now dried and brown, sat staring at us.

      “Please throw those away,” I begged and he did without a second of hesitation.

      But my dress had a huge blood stain on it too. Without even asking, Rich balled it up and tossed it. He covered his face with his hands and rubbed a few times, then raked his fingers through his hair.

      “What do we do now?”

      I buzzed the nurse’s station and the same compassionate woman came strolling in. After explaining the clothing situation, she brought in a set of pale blue scrubs. I put them on with my beige Prada platforms and searched for my purse. Rich pulled it from under the chair in the corner and set it on the bed. He took me in his arms, squeezing me tight, as if he were holding on for dear life. Like he was falling, his life about to spiral into an endless pit, my body his only way of surviving.

      I pulled away and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I love you.”

      “I love you too.”

      * * * *

      Seven AM came way too soon. The alarm went off and instead of yawning and stretching and bouncing out of bed to wake my beautiful baby boy, I slammed my hand on the alarm and knocked it on the floor. Which didn’t even turn it off. The beeping continued and now I had to get out of bed to turn it off. I threw the comforter and stood, feeling the gush of liquid in my crotch. More blood had oozed out, reminding me the events of the previous day did happen.

      I grabbed the alarm clock and beat it into submission, then slammed it on the nightstand, knocking over the picture of Rich, Preston and I. It landed face-side down and after I’d picked it up, relief filled me as I found it unharmed. I sat down on the bed and stared at the picture. Rich came behind me and kissed the back of my neck.

      “You okay?”

      “Yeah. Sorry I wigged out like that.”

      “It’s understandable. I’d tear the whole place apart if it’d make me feel any better.”

      “Preston’s one-year check up is today. I have to call my doctor too, and see when I can get in. I don’t think the receptionist comes in ’til nine though.”

      “Call me after you make the appointment. I have a couple meetings today, but leave a voicemail. I want to go with you and I’ll need to tell my boss so he can guarantee me the day off.”

      “You’re going to work today?”

      He sighed and kissed me again. “I thought of calling in sick, but I think staying busy will help, ya know?”

      I agreed. I had lots to keep my mind miscarriage-free, or at least, things to try and keep my mind occupied. “I’ll call you as soon as I know.”

      Rich got up and started his morning routine. Many mornings I joined him in the shower and we’d get a quickie in before breakfast. Not today. I got out of bed and headed to Preston’s room.

      He’d been asleep when Rich and I got home the night before, as requested. I’d peeked in on him, though–his angelic face with a smile, dreaming happy baby dreams. I’d pressed a kiss to his head and felt the emptiness of my womb. Before my sobs could start again, I’d scooted out.

      When I’d returned to the living room, Rich sat with Marcus and Kevin, a bottle of Jack on the table. Rich and Kevin had already been sipping on theirs. Marcus had poured another glass and handed it to me. I’d shaken my head at first, but needed something to dull the ache in my gut. I took the glass and snuggled into Rich. Marcus had poured a fourth and sat back, leaving the bottle open. He’d known it would get more use before it needed its cap.

       Chapter 4

      “He’s perfect,” Dr. Simon stated after inspecting every crevice of Preston’s body. “He needs a few shots before you go–MMR, hib, and chicken pox. Any questions?”

      I shook my head and tried to smile.

      Her exuberant expression faded. “Lexi, is everything all right?”

      I tried to control my tear ducts, but apparently they had a mind of their own. “I’m having a miscarriage.”

      “Oh no. You should get to the hospital.”

      “I already went–yesterday. And I’m seeing my OB tomorrow.”

      Her eyes softened and she placed her hand atop mine. “I’m so sorry.”

      “Thank you.”

      The nurse came in and wiped Preston’s leg with an alcohol-drenched cotton ball.

      I held my boy tight and when he cried, I cried too. It always pained me to see him hurt, but this time my tears were for more than just his shots.

      * * * *

      I stopped at Smith & Roland on my way home and wheeled Preston down the hall toward Sheila’s office. The office employees greeted us with wide smiles and cheery hellos and I plastered on my smile. When we reached Sheila’s office, I knocked and waited. Her shrieks blared from behind the closed door. Yikes. I remembered those days. Luckily, Sheila and I were on a whole different level now. I respected her and was certain she had at least a little bit for me too.

      When the door opened, a young woman came out, eyes puffy. Our glances met and I tried to smile. “I’ve been where you are.”

      She walked off and I pushed the stroller through the door and closed it behind me.

      “What happened to you the other day? One minute we’re singing and the next you were gone?” She stood and unbuckled Preston’s seatbelt, sitting back in her chair with him on her lap. After pulling open a drawer, she sprinkled some goldfish crackers on her desk–treats she kept in her office for him.

      “Um…well.” No point in lying. She’d see right though it. “I had to go to the hospital. I’m having a miscarriage.”

      Her eyes met mine and I recognized the hurt. She’d gone through the same thing some fifteen years ago, and still hadn’t recovered. I knew by the way she held Preston to her–the way she spoiled him. And how she watched over Amanda and took care of her as if she were her child, rather than just a niece.

      “I’m sorry.”

      I nodded. “Thanks.”

      She poured a few more fish, then rummaged through a desk drawer. “Here are the cover art options for Mama Drama. What do you think?”

      Business as usual. Sheila dealt with pain by submerging herself in work.

      “Any chance you can get me the first draft of Which Way to Broadway by the fifteenth of next month?”

      Maybe she thought I needed that too. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

      Might be a good idea anyway. I needed something to occupy my mind. And this new story, loosely based on Amanda and her experience with moving to New York, was sure to keep my mind baby-free. Unlike my last novel, this one included no babies, aside from a pregnant BFF making an occasional appearance.

      * СКАЧАТЬ