The setback, p.31
The Setback, page 31
He’s kind to animals and children. Even the annoying ones.
He helps little old ladies with their groceries.
He’s patient with me, and he never presses, unless I need it, of course. He comes up with solutions to things in my personal life and my business affairs. I can count on him.
I mean, that’s not hot.
I’d have told you a year ago that ‘counting on someone’ was not something I even wanted. But now that I have it, I realize I would have said that because I didn’t think it was possible. Every man I’d met counted on me to help them out over and over.
Not David. He’s never asked me to help him.
“Helen Fisher, say it again. Now.” He’s looking at me as intensely as he ever has. And without thinking about it, without giving it a moment’s extra thought. . .
“I love you, David.”
He beams, then, he presses the box into my hand, and he kisses me.
I nearly drop it. But then I wonder what it is I’m holding. “This better be a huge diamond.”
I open the box, and the ring doesn’t have a diamond on it at all.
“What in the world is this?”
It’s a gold hook thing, in the shape of a letter ‘u.’ Then there are silver bolt-shaped joiners on either end, with a pin holding it all together.
“It’s a shackle,” he says.
“A. . .shackle?” I start laughing then, and I can’t stop. “You bought me a shackle for my finger?”
David shrugs. “I looked at diamonds first, but the thing is, no matter how big I went, it would be way smaller than you could buy yourself. So I thought, what would better symbolize our relationship? I made them make this for me custom, you know. There’s not another ring like this on earth.”
“A silver and gold shackle.”
“It’s platinum,” he says. “Silver tarnishes. You’ll never get out of this one.”
His mom calls then.
He hits the decline button.
“You ignored your mom?”
“She’s been bugging me to lock you down for months,” he says. “And now that I’m actually trying, I’m not doing it for her or the family.” He huffs.
It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “You should answer her call.”
“No.” He’s sulking. He’s honest-to-goodness sulking. It’s so unlike him. “I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction.”
I pull the phone out of his hand and dial his mother back.
She answers in Korean, and I’ve been practicing, but I don’t even bother trying to use it. Not over a phone, and not with this woman who runs their entire family like a well-oiled machine.
“Mother?” In Korea, daughters-in-law call their parents-in-law Mother and Father.
His mother gasps.
“This is Helen Fisher. I understand that you speak wonderful English.”
“I do,” she says.
“Your son and I are getting married, but of course that’s a separate thing from my company acquiring his.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re not close enough in size for it to be a merger, of course,” I say. “But I’d love to talk details over a meal. Would next week work for you?”
She coughs, but she recovers quickly. “Of course. I think you’ll find that our American base of operations is quite diversified and would complement your firm’s strengths well.”
“I’m happy to hear that you’ve been looking into it.”
His mother makes a strange noise.
“What is that?” I whisper.
“She’s crying,” he whispers back. “It’s a good thing.”
“See you soon,” I say. “Thanks for raising such a wonderful son.” It’s a weird thing for me to be saying, but I mean it. After I hang up, I slide the shackle onto my ring finger. “This has been a weird courtship.”
“The word ‘courtship’ is pretty weird.” David smirks. “It’s not eighteen-fifty-three.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Nothing normal could have shackled Helen Fisher.”
“Speaking of that,” I say. “I’m not changing my name.”
“I never expected you to.” David kisses me then, at least until the Atomix arrives.
Nothing comes between me and my delicious Korean.
28
Beth
April Fool’s Day always kind of snuck up on me.
Sometimes my friends did goofy things to one another, to their parents, or even more often, to teachers. Not me. I usually forgot about it until it was too late to think of anything to do.
Teachers are notoriously hard to fool in any case. They’ve heard it all. Terminal illnesses, impending moves, you name it, they’ve heard it. If it happens on April 1, they’re automatically suspicious.
Once, a girl named Tabitha wound up puking in the middle of class because no matter how many times she insisted she was sick, the teacher would not let her go to see the nurse. I actually felt a little bad for Miss Sims when Tabitha’s parents bawled her out. She had been told by more than ten kids that they were sick. I couldn’t really blame her for not believing the eleventh.
Two years ago, I had just gotten a phone in March, so when April rolled around, it was still a bit of a novelty. My best friend Hannah convinced me that we should each call our mothers and pretend that we’d been involved in a car accident. Hannah had just gotten a car, and she was sure that her parents would flip. I didn’t have a car yet, but I knew my mom would be easy to fool. I could tell her I was with Hannah, or I could tell her I’d borrowed her car without permission.
That certainly wouldn’t be a strange occurrence in Manila.
Only, I wasn’t at all sure that Mom would find it funny—she was a bit of a wild card on a good day. But Hannah was so sure, and when she called her parents, pretended for a few moments, and then said, “I’m kidding! April Fool’s,” they had laughed.
So after enough pushing, I dialed.
“Hello?” Mom had answered.
“Hey, Mom,” I said.
“Is everything alright?”
“Not really.” It was lunch tine. It was just occurring to me that it would be strange for me to be out driving around at lunch. So on top of wrecking a car, I was suddenly confessing to cutting class. “So, Mom, I have some bad news.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been in a car accident,” I said.
“You’ve—what?” Mom murmured something I couldn’t quite pick up.
“Hannah was driving, and I think she’s okay, but her car’s totaled. We’ve called for an ambulance, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. I’m glad we even have cell reception.”
“What on earth are you doing in a car, nowhere near school?” Mom sounded ticked.
I decided I had kept it going long enough. “April Fool’s!”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m kidding, Mom. I’m at lunch. Everything’s fine. No car accident. Got ya!”
She swore under her breath and hung up. I found out that night that she had her parents there, visiting, and she was absolutely furious with me for my stupid joke. Apparently she’d been telling them everything I said as I said it.
That pretty much cured me of wanting to fool anyone on April first. Which is why, when the contractions start at six in the morning and I realize the date, I cringe a little bit.
Maybe they’ll stop.
They say that happens with new mothers, and I’m still two weeks early. But an hour later, they hurt more than before, and they feel quicker, too. I text Ethan.
I THINK THE BABY MAY BE COMING.
And then I tiptoe into the hall and pick up my hand to knock on Aunt Donna’s door.
Only, she never gets to sleep in, and it’s a Saturday. I should wait until I’m absolutely positive. Right?
“Beth?” Aiden’s rubbing his eyes in the hallway. “Why are you just standing there with your hand up?”
A moment later, I hear noises coming from Uncle Will and Aunt Donna’s room. Ten seconds later, Aunt Donna shoots out, a bathrobe wrapped tightly around her, her crossed arms holding it in place.
“Are you feeling alright?” She scans me from head to toe, and then her eyes widen. “Are you contracting?” She reaches for my stomach and then stops short. She’s heard me rant about people touching my belly.
“I think maybe it’s time to go to the hospital,” I say. “It’s been going on for a while.”
Aunt Donna’s eyes widen. “You should’ve told me sooner. Let’s go! Will. Will!”
Poor Uncle Will’s still buttoning the top of his pants when she shoves the door open. “It’s go time.”
He hefts two bags into the air while Aunt Donna’s dialing. “Yes. That’s right. It’s time.” Aunt Donna hangs up and nods. “She’ll be here in less than five minutes. Do you think you can wait that long?”
“It’s not like Aiden won’t survive until Mom gets here,” Uncle Will says.
“Even so,” Aunt Donna says. “I’d rather make sure she makes it. You never know with stuff like that.”
“You never know what exactly?” Uncle Will asks. “Whether my mom will die on the way here?” His easygoing mockery is the perfect match for Aunt Donna’s high-strung, worry-wart tendencies.
“No, I’m not saying that.”
“We’re sure this isn’t an April Fool’s prank, right?” Uncle Will glances my way.
“I would never do that to you guys,” I say.
Aunt Donna drops a hand on my shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t. Believe me.” Then her face drains of all color, and she inhales sharply. Then she inhales again. Her hand drops from my arm, and she leans forward and vomits all over the floor.
Partially digested noodles do not smell good, and a contraction is just starting, so I end up puking right on top of hers.
“Oh, Will.” Aunt Donna wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Why did we try that new Thai food place last night? What were we thinking?”
“We were thinking it was date night, and new restaurants are rare in Green River.” He shudders and points at the living room. “You two go sit in there, and I’ll get this cleaned up.” He mutters under his breath, though. “Thank goodness I had the fried rice.”
“Are you alright?” Now I’m the one trying to make her feel better.
“Oh, my stomach,” Aunt Donna says. “I’ll be fine, but what a lousy time to have food poisoning.”
“It could be a stomach bug,” I say. “Or.” I glance at Uncle Will. “You did just get married. Could you be. . .” I drop my voice to a whisper so Aiden, who’s munching on a massive bowlful of Lucky Charms, won’t hear me. “Pregnant?”
Aunt Donna laughs. “Uh, no. And besides. When I was pregnant with Aiden, I didn’t have a single moment of nausea or sickness. Believe me, that’s not what this is.” She sighs. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Well, I’m about to have a baby,” I say. “So maybe it’s good that you’re not.”
“Should you stay home from the hospital?” Uncle Will’s eyes are nervous.
His mother pulls up outside, her huge silver truck rumbling as she parallel parks on the road out front so she won’t block us in.
“I’m sure it’s those noodles. They didn’t sit right last night, and I’m not shocked they came back up. I just wish I’d gone ahead and gotten sick last night instead of going right to sleep.” She groans. “But truly, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I insist on coming.”
“Maybe we take two cars,” Uncle Will says.
“Either way, we should go,” Aunt Donna says. “She said the contractions are worsening, and Vernal’s ninety minutes away.”
Ethan’s old truck pulls into the driveway, idling loudly like it always does. He doesn’t cut the engine—he hops out and runs up the driveway, right up until he nearly plows into Mrs. Earl. “Ah, so sorry. I almost didn’t see you.” He looks pained as he slows his pace to cover the last four steps that separate him from the door, and once it’s open, he searches the room for me.
“I’ll ride with Ethan,” I say. “Why don’t you and Uncle Will meet us there. Then if you feel lousy, you’ll have your own car to come back home in.”
“Good plan,” Uncle Will says. “Let’s go.”
I’ve been to Vernal for several appointments now, and the ninety-minute drive never felt too bad. Living in Manila, you get used to the fact that everything’s an hour or two away. But this time, it’s different.
“Breathe,” Ethan says. “Remember? We watched this video. We can do this.”
“Ethan.”
“Alright, I’ll keep quiet.”
“I love you.”
“Oh.” He glances at me, and he smiles. “I love you, too.”
The closer it gets, the sadder I get about the idea of moving. But when I try to consider sticking around, it still hurts too much. So no matter what I do, in a few days, I’m going to be miserable.
Why did this baby have to cut my time short? Ethan and I were supposed to have half a dozen more date nights.
He reaches around until his hand finds mine. “I’m excited.” He smiles. “This is really neat. You’re about to change Will and Donna’s lives forever. And we get to meet that beautiful little girl. Your little girl.”
“Aunt Donna’s,” I say.
“But still. It’s because of you that she gets this little girl she wants so much. That’s amazing.”
It feels tragic.
This little baby didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m about to abandon her. Aunt Donna and Uncle Will are happy, but I hope that years down the road, she understands that it’s not because of anything she did. It’s not because she’s not wonderful.
“Are you alright?”
“Fine.” I’m just breathing, or rather panting, my way through yet another miserable contraction. “They shouldn’t call them contractions,” I say. “They should call them pain waves. Or belly slaps. Or maybe abdominal misery spikes.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Ethan snorts, and I realize, in this case, it really isn’t his fault. This poor guy has been so amazing, so solid, and so present for all of this, and he had nothing to do with it. “I really do love you.”
“I’m glad.” He grins again. “I wish I could do something about the contractions, but I don’t think babies really come out without them. Unless you get a c-section, I guess. But they say those are miserable too.”
“I wonder what they’ll name her.”
Aunt Donna and Uncle Will keep insisting that they need to see her first. They keep saying that they can’t give her a name until they’ve seen her face, but I’ve looked up images of newborns. They all look about the same. Pink, squishy, and a lot of them are kind of bumpy, too.
What kind of name are they thinking her newborn face will inspire? Potato? Turnip?
I’m in the middle of a horrible contraction when we finally pull into the parking lot of the hospital. I’m embarrassed about it, but I’m actually screaming. Once it ends, I reach for the door, but Ethan’s already there. “Nice try, but no. I’m carrying you.”
“Ethan, stop.” I try to slap his hand, but he’s not kidding.
He sweeps his arms under my back and knees and swings me up like I weigh nothing. “There’s a reason that pregnant women get wheelchairs,” he says. “I can’t have you screaming and contracting while you walk through the hospital, and we aren’t waiting for them to bring a chair over.”
As it happens, I’m screaming again as Ethan goes through the sliding doors into the ER. They move double quick to get me up to Labor and Delivery and into a room, and thankfully Uncle Will must have driven like a maniac, because they’re already waiting for us.
“Right through here,” Aunt Donna says. She’s smiling.
After I change into the hospital gown, in between waves of misery, it all starts to feel very, very real. Aunt Donna helps me onto the bed and fluffs my pillow. She doesn’t look pale anymore, thankfully.
“You must feel better,” I say.
“Much,” she says. “I’m telling you. It was the noodles.”
“Thank goodness,” I say. “I hate to be a brat, but I may need most of the attention for the next hour or two.”
A doc shows up then, one I’ve never met. “I’m the OB on call, Dr. Isaacson.” She smiles. “Looks like we’re having a baby today.”
Aunt Donna nods.
“Wait, who are you?”
“I’m the mother-to-be,” Aunt Donna says. “And this is my niece, the actual mother.”
Dr. Isaacson nods slowly. “Ah, gotcha. Well, that’s great. I’m glad you have it all worked out.” She walks toward me and flips the stirrups up. “I hear you’ve been contracting for a while, but first-time moms usually take a while before they’re ready. I don’t want you to be disappointed if you’re not close to delivering yet, alright?”
“Sure,” I say. And then a contraction starts, so I close my eyes and grit my teeth.
Ethan takes my hand.
I pant and stifle a shout. “Can we order an epidural, too?”
“For sure.” Dr. Isaacson puts gloves on. “I’m just going to check to see how far we’ve come, alright?”
Ethan and Uncle Will step toward the front of the room, as we discussed they would, and Dr. Isaacson’s cold hand checks my dilation. They’ve been doing this at my weekly checkups, and I brace for it. It’s not fun.
Except, the horrible pressure doesn’t happen. Instead, I just hear, “Oh.”
“Oh?” Another contraction hits then.
“I need a cart in here, and a nursing team!” Dr. Isaacson turns to me and smiles. “How do you feel? Do you feel up to pushing?”
“Up to. . .what?”
“You’re ten centimeters already,” she says. “You’re contracting, right?”
I nod.
“You could push, if you’re willing.”
“I could—”
Aunt Donna squeals.
When I glance her way, I notice that behind her, Uncle Will’s face is entirely pale.
“Maybe you and Ethan should step out.” Ethan’s forced smile is all kinds of creepy.
