Twisted (19 page)

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“All right, Kate. When you’re ready, slide down to the edge of

the table and put your feet in the stirrups, please.”

While I follow his directions, he wheels a cart over with a mon-

itor and keyboard. And then he picks up a long plastic white wand

that looks . . . well . . . like a dildo.

For an elephant.

I lift my head from the table. “Uh . . . what’s that?”

“This is an internal ultrasound. Looks a little scary, I know . . .”

No shit, Santa.

“. . . but it won’t hurt.”

And then he takes out a foil packet, tears it open, and rolls an

extra-large condom onto the elephant dildo.

Not kidding. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

“Just try and relax, Kate.”

Sure. No problem. I’ll just pretend I’m at the spa. having my

ovaries massaged.

he inserts the rod carefully. And I flinch. The room is silent as

he moves the instrument to and fro. he wasn’t lying; it’s not painful. Just . . . disconcerting.

“Are you still experiencing any cramping?”

I stare at the beige-tiled ceiling, purposely avoiding the little screen.

“No. Not since last night.” I’m pretty sure the alcohol and pot

disabled every pain nerve in my body.

I hear the tapping of buttons on the keyboard, and the rod is

removed. “You can sit up now, Kate.” I do. “Do you see that flick-

ering, right there?”

My gaze settles on the screen, where he’s pointing. “Yes.”

“That is your baby’s heartbeat.”

The breath rushes from my lungs. And I’m horrified. “You

mean . . . it’s still . . . alive?”

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“That’s right.”

My hands squeeze together and I feel the tears coming back

up, ready to gush like a weakened dam. “When is it going to . . .

how long will it take before . . . I fully miscarry?”

he covers my clasped hands with one of his own. “Based on

my examination, your hormone levels, and what you’ve told me, I

see no reason why you should.”

My head snaps up. “Wait . . . what? But the doctor last night

said—”

“It can be difficult, this early, to detect a fetal heartbeat with a traditional ultrasound. As for your bleeding, some spotting in

the first trimester is quite common. Now, however, your cervix is

closed, your blood work is unremarkable, and the fetal heart rate

is normal. All of these factors indicate a routine pregnancy that

should progress to full term.”

My mother’s arms wrap around my shoulders, relieved and

excited. But I need more. “So you’re saying . . . I get to keep him?

I’m going to have this baby?”

Dr. Witherspoon chuckles.

It’s a jolly sound.

“Yes, Kate. I believe you’re going to keep this baby. Your due

date is October twentieth. Congratulations.”

I cover my mouth and the tears flow. I’m smiling so big, my

face hurts. And I hug my mother back. “Mom . . .”

She laughs. “I know, honey. I’m so happy for you—I love you

so much.”

“I love you too.”

This is how it should have been the first time. No fear. No

doubts. Only elation. Euphoria.

It’s the most wonderful moment of my life.

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I throw my clothes on faster than a cheating wife caught in the act and burst into the waiting room. Delores and Billy stare at me in

surprise. “I’m still pregnant! I’m not having a miscarriage!”

They stand up.

“holy shit!”

“I knew Dr. Dickhead didn’t know his ass from his elbow!”

Smiles and hugs are passed around like acid at Woodstock.

And my best friend asks me, “So I guess your mind’s made up?

You’re keeping it?”

My hands drop to my stomach, already imagining the bump.

“Until he turns eighteen and goes to college. And even then, I

might make him live at home and commute.”

She nods, bestowing the coveted Delores Warren seal of

approval.

Billy drops to his knees in front of me. “hey, in there. I’m

Uncle Billy.” Then he looks up at me, worried. “I can be Uncle

Billy, right? You gotta let me be Uncle Billy. The only other shot I’ve got is Delores—and who the hell knows what kind a freak of

nature she’s gonna squeeze out.”

Delores smacks him on the head.

And I laugh. “Yes. You can be Uncle Billy.”

“Sweet.” his attention reverts to my stomach. “hey, kid. Don’t

worry about a thing—I’m gonna tell you everything you need to

know. Say it with me: Strat-o-caster.”

Delores shakes her head. “It can’t understand you, Jackass. It’s

like the size of a tadpole.”

“After last night, it’s probably a
wasted
tadpole. But that’s cool, right? It’ll build up its tolerance—put hair on its chest?”

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Delores grins. “What if it’s a girl?”

Billy shrugs. “Some guys are into girls with hairy chests. You’d

be surprised.”

I turn away from the Tweedledum-Tweedledee exchange and

walk down the hall to Dr. Witherspoon. My words come out

stunted. Guilty. “Excuse me? I’m sorry to bother you . . . but . . .

last night . . . I was upset and I . . . drank alcohol and smoked cigarettes.” I lower my voice. “And marijuana. A
lot
.”

A montage of Special Report News flashes through my mind:

Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.

Super-preemies.

Low Birth Weight.

he puts his hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “You’re not

the first woman to engage in some rather . . . unhealthy behaviors before learning she was pregnant, Kate. Babies in utero are heart-ier than you think. They have the ability to overcome momentary

exposure to drugs and alcohol. So as long as you abstain from

these substances from now on, there shouldn’t be any lasting

effects.”

I throw my arms around his neck, almost knocking him over.

“Thank you! Thank you, Dr. Santa—this is the best Christmas

present ever!”

I run back to Delores and Billy. “he said it’s okay!” We jump

up and down in a circle like three kids on the playground doing

Ring Around the Rosie.

And it’s almost perfect.
Almost
. Because there’s something missing.

Someone.

The only other person on earth who’s supposed to be as happy

as I am at this moment. he should be here. he should be pick-

ing me up, spinning me around, and kissing me until I pass out.

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And then he should be telling me that of course the baby’s fine—

because his studly super-sperm is indestructible.

Can’t you just see it?

But he’s not here. That’s just the way it is. I’d like to tell you it doesn’t hurt—that I don’t miss him—that I don’t really care anymore. But that’d be a big fat lie. I love Drew. I can’t imagine ever not loving him. And I want to share this with him, more than

anything.

But we don’t always get everything we want; sometimes we just

have to be grateful for what we have. And I am. Grateful, I mean.

happy. Because I’m going to have this baby and take care of him.

And I don’t have to do it alone. Between my mother and George,

Delores and Billy, there won’t be any shortage of helping hands.

he’s going to be loved enough for ten babies.

Forty-eight hours ago, I didn’t know what I was capable of,

what kind of steel pumps in my veins. Now I do. And I guess that’s the moral of the story.

You have to fall down, scrape your palms and knees, before you

know you have the ability to pick yourself back up.

So don’t worry about me. I’m going to be just fine. Eventually,

I’ll be great.
We’l
be great.

We pull into the rear parking lot of the diner and my mother rushes in through the back door. She left George manning the ship, and

she’s a little eager to make sure he hasn’t single-handedly sunk it.

As Delores, Billy, and I walk less hurriedly, Delores asks me,

“So what’s the plan, Stan?”

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I breath deep and squint up at the sky. And it feels like a new

day. A blank page. A fresh beginning. More clichés, I know.

But still—so true.

“I’m going to hang here another day or so. Just . . . recharge.

Then I’m going back to New York. And Drew and I are going to

have a long talk. I have some things to say, and he’s going to listen—whether he wants to or not.”

She taps my shoulder. “That’s my girl. Give the bastard hell.”

I grin. Billy opens the door for us but I don’t follow Dee Dee

inside. he asks, “You coming, Katie?”

I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m gonna go take a ride.

Clear my head, you know? Tell my mom for me?”

he nods. “Sure. Take your time. We’ll be here when you get

back.”

The door swings closed behind them.

And I walk to my car.

So there it is. You’re all caught up now. That’s my story. It was a whopper, huh?

My father used to bring me to this playground when I was

young. Even then, when it was newly built, it was never very

crowded. I don’t know why the town chose this location to build;

it’s an unusual place for a children’s park. There aren’t any housing developments or apartment complexes nearby. And you can’t see it

from the main road—it’s off the beaten path.

Time hasn’t been kind to the metal swing set frames and wavy

steel slide. They’re rusted, faded, and discolored from the lively pri-Twisted_1P.indd 163

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mary colors they once were. Still . . . it’s kind of beautiful here—in an industrial modern art kind of way. It’s solitary. Peaceful.

And I need as much of that as I can get. Because thinking

about what comes next, what’s ahead of me? I’m not going to lie—

it’s scary. It feels like . . . moving into a new house. Exciting, but nerve-racking too. Because you don’t know where the closest gas

station is, or the number of the local fire department. There’re so many things to learn.

I read somewhere that babies can actually hear what’s going on

outside the womb. That they’re born knowing the sound of their

mother’s voice. I like that idea.

I look down at my stomach. “hey, Tadpole. Sorry about every-

thing that’s been going on lately. My life usually isn’t this dramatic.

Although Drew would probably disagree with me on that. he

tends to think I’m quite the drama queen.”

Drew.
That’s gonna be a tough one. Might as well start now—

practice makes perfect.

My hand rests against my stomach, cradling it. “Yeah . . . your

father. Your dad is like . . . a shooting star. When he’s around, every other light in the sky just . . . fades out. Because he’s that vibrant—

you can’t take your eyes off him. At least I never could.”

I bite my lip. And watch as a hawk soars overhead.

Then I go on. “We loved each other. No matter what’s hap-

pened or what will happen from here on out, it’s important to me

that you know we were in love. Your father made me feel like I was everything that mattered to him. The only thing. And I’ll always

be grateful to him for that. I hope you get to know him one day.

Because he’s actually a really . . . great guy.” I laugh softly. “When he’s not too busy being as ass.”

When I finish speaking the air settles, and all is quiet for

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their honking cars, screaming children, and jogging footsteps. It’s serene.

So when a car door suddenly closes nearby, it startles me. My

head whips toward the sound.

And standing there is the last person I ever thought I would see

out here, in Greenville, at this moment.

It’s Drew.

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He looks awful. Stunningly, breathtakingly awful.

his eyes are bloodshot, his face is pale, there’s a few

days of stubble on his chin—and despite all that, he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

Looking anywhere else just isn’t possible.

Drew is staring too. his gaze is unwavering—drinking me

in—burning me up.

We stand like that for a minute. And then he walks toward

me. his steps are purposeful and focused, like he’s marching into a business meeting with his entire career on the line.

he stops just a few feet away.

But it feels like much farther.

And everything I’d planned on saying to him in New York flies

right out of my head. So instead, I start off easy. “how did you

know I was here?”

“I went to the diner first, saw your mom in the kitchen. She

said she didn’t know where you were. And she was looking at me

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like she wanted to chop my dick off and put it on the Specials

Menu. So I went out front—ran into Warren. he told me you’d

probably be here.”

Of course Billy would know where I was. Just like he knew I

would want him to send Drew to me.

“Did he do that to your face?” I’m talking about the fist-sized