Page 7 of Paranoia

He wondered what his partner, Mike Bennett, was doing about now on a Saturday night. Probably with his wonderful family, enjoying everything he had worked for. Maybe Bennettwas right: He needed to be more open and get out and meet people. But he was always so disappointed by people. They tended to argue about stupid things, repeat ridiculous rumors, and generally fail to live up to their potential.

Bennett and his family were the exceptions. Rob knew it was a result of good parenting. He admired Mike Bennett, who displayed a lot of the same traits as Rob’s mom. Smart, kind, and tough as nails.

Before he knew it, Rob found himself stretched out on his bed, hoping he might actually fall asleep without the aid of the powerful sedative prescription drugs that the VA used to provide for his PTSD, and that he was trying to wean himself off. He didn’t like how they made him black out. He kept telling himself that all that was behind him.

It still didn’t make sleep any easier.

CHAPTER 11

I SHIFTED MY weight from one foot to the other as we waited for the doctor to look through more reports before discussing Mary Catherine’s condition in any detail. I definitely wouldn’t have called the doctor warm and fuzzy. She was all business. In a way, it reminded me of Mary Catherine when she was on a mission.

Eventually, the doctor said, “I’ve reviewed the scans and initial bloodwork. I’ve consulted with our ob-gyn and neither of us are sure what happened.”

“What about the baby?” Mary Catherine interjected.

I didn’t like the way the doctor took a moment to let out a sigh. It could’ve been that she was just tired after a long day. Or it could’ve been that she was about to give us bad news. I felt Mary Catherine squeeze my hand. Hard.

The doctor cleared her throat and said, “I understand you’vebeen going to a fertility clinic and you’re still very early in your first trimester. I would recommend that you consult with your fertility ob-gyn as soon as possible. I see in your chart this is Dr. Christina Ashe. Correct? A brilliant doctor.”

Mary Catherine loosened her death grip on my hand and sat up in the bed. “So the baby is fine?” The hope in her voice scared me. It would make the heartbreak all that much worse if things went south.

The doctor took a moment to look at Mary Catherine. “The pregnancy appears to still be viable. But again, I’m sure your ob-gyn can give you more specific insight. Until then, I’m going to put you on strict bed rest for a minimum of two weeks.”

I worked up the nerve to ask cautiously, “Is Mary Catherine in any danger?”

“All pregnancies can be dangerous. I think rest, proper diet, and time will maximize outcomes.”

She had spoken like a car mechanic talking about a brake job. She never cracked a smile or showed any emotion.

Mary Catherine fidgeted. Telling my beautiful wife that she was going to be laid up for two weeks was like telling a world-class sprinter they could only walk.

“When you say bed rest …” she began.

The doctor didn’t let her finish. “Let me make this perfectly clear. I am ordering you, as your current attending physician, to go home immediately, lie down on your bed in comfortable clothes, and only get up to go to the bathroom.” She looked up at me like she expected I had something to add. When I didn’t say anything, the doctor said pointedly to Mary Catherine, “I’m sure someone can bring you your meals in bed. Perhaps, unless they are complete jerks, they’ll even eat a meal or two there with you.But for the safety of your health and the viability of the pregnancy, you should limit your movements as much as possible. Do you have anyone to help you?”

I chuckled. “We can manage to find someone around the house.”

The doctor gave us a few more guidelines, then looked intently at Mary Catherine. “I want you to follow my instructions,” the doctor told her. “I do not want you out of that bed for a minimum of two weeks. That is not up for any debate.”

For the first time since I’d met Mary Catherine, she had no comeback or comment.

I was at least smart enough to hide the smile that wanted to burst onto my face.

CHAPTER 12

WHEN WE OPENED the apartment door, we were hit with a wave of humanity and a barrage of questions from our kids. Plus my grandfather, who had shown up from his apartment in the Holy Name rectory, just around the block from our building. The only people missing were Shawna and Chrissy. I was hoping my two youngest daughters had already fallen asleep. It was after midnight by now.

I acted like a cop breaking up a crowd. “Move back, move back, give her some air.” We’d already called home earlier to give them an update, hoping to avoid this situation.

Juliana had come home from the production ofGodspellshe was performing in, still in stage makeup. The concern on her face told me she must have rushed home as soon as her sister had texted her.

Finally, I held up a hand to keep everyone from speaking atonce. It had the desired effect. I could see why Mary Catherine enjoyed controlling our wild group of kids. There was a certain satisfaction to it.

When everyone’s attention was on me, I said, “I’ll answer all questions and concerns after we get Mary Catherine to bed.” I escorted her toward our bedroom. After a couple of steps, I realized everyone was following us. I turned and said, “Okay, I know I said onceweget Mary Catherine to bed. What I should’ve said is onceIget Mary Catherine to bed. The rest of you wait here and I’ll be back out shortly.” I ignored the hurt looks I got from some of the kids.

I was still holding Mary Catherine around her waist as we stepped into the bedroom. That’s when I found the final two pieces of my puzzle. Chrissy and Shawna lay on our bed, sound asleep on top of the covers. Chrissy’s head was at the foot of the bed and Shawna’s was hanging off the side. I noticed three glasses on Mary Catherine’s nightstand: one of milk, one of water, and one of lemonade. The girls had made sure all of Mary Catherine’s favorite beverages were covered. Her pajamas and a robe were also laid out on her side of the bed.

In most circumstances it would have been unbearably cute. But at that moment I had to call in my oldest kids, Brian and Juliana, for some help carrying out their sleeping little sisters.

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