Page 59 of SEAL'S Baby Surprise
It had been my freshman year in college when I got the implant, and I’d not been to a gynecologist since.
Four years to earn a bachelor’s degree, two more for a master’s, plus one year just pretending to work and bumming about with a camera while trying to set up a boutique. That would make it seven years since I’d gotten the implant.
And then there was the condom that had broken. And sometimes condoms leak or something.
I thumb back through my journal with a growing sense of panic. I can’t be pregnant. I just can’t. I’m not married. I can’t getmarried because that would mean I’d need identification. I can’t go to a doctor, because a doctor will want Identification.
Can’t do this, can’t, can’t, can’t. I need help. I need someone who will know what to do. I need to not be pregnant. Need to go somewhere, see somebody . . . can’t do this! Can’t, can’t, can’t . . .
Sitting there on the toilet, I clutch at my head, bend over and put my head between my knees. I try to breathe steady and slow, like Austin showed me for meditation, like old Grizelda had taught when she was showing a gaggle of silly girls about Tai Chi.
“It’s all about the breath,” she’d said. “In, and hold, and out. Count with me now. . ..”
In, one, two, three…hold, one, two, three . . . Out, one two three…
After about fifteen cycles of this, I get hold of myself. Mrs. Hubbard had given me a card for the family clinic. I put myself together, go back out, and dig in my art box.
Sure enough, there it is. Someone there will know how I could be not pregnant; someone will know what I need to do next. There will be grown up people, professional people.
I know I’m not thinking clearly. I know I need help. I can also see that the address on the card isn’t in the village. It is in the city.
It is too far away to walk, and I don’t want to hitch, so that means … oh, horrors! That means I am going to have to get on that bike again.
It will take a while. I pack a lunch for me; then, as an afterthought, put in two cans of dog food and some kibble for Ark, because no way is he going to let me go alone.
I write a note and leave it on my bed. It isn’t fair to Austin not to tell him something.
The sun is coasting toward the west when I put on my hat, push the bike up to the road to the village, and start pedaling, with Ark pacing along beside me.
It is a good day for a bike ride. Someone at the other end will know what I need to do. Everything will be fine.
27
AUSTIN
It has beena long time since I last spent any time with Richard. We had been college suite mates, and best friends back in college. So let me tell you about college dorm suites — or, at least, about ours.
There had been eight of us, in four bedrooms grouped around a common room and a bathroom. Yeah, that’s right: eight guys to share one bathroom.
Sounds barbaric, doesn’t it? Actually, it was mostly all right because we’d had different schedules.
It could get a little wild on Friday or Saturday nights when everyone wanted to go out, but most of the time the shared bathroom was not a problem.
I am glad for Richard. He’d been all right as a roommate. He’d been deeply absorbed in sports, which was not too surprising given that he was pretty much an all-star player for college sports.
He’d been focused back then — all about making the team, meeting with the team, practicing for the team…just abouteverything was “for the team,” except for helping out with the family business.
Then he’d become a shark, a toothy predator swimming in financial waters. He hadn’t seemed to give a fig for anything beyond the scores his team made or the dollar signs in his portfolio.
It is my good luck that he considers me to be “family” even through the years where we were out of touch. A small investment account I’d had with him had been my saving grace when I came home to the mess Izzy had made out of our lives.
His football injury had happened after I’d gone into the Navy. I hadn’t heard about it until we’d run across each other at a class reunion.
Then he was all about being a playboy, getting the girls, while chasing the almighty dollar. Richie had never had too much trouble getting a girl — any girl.
It is a treat to see just how “whipped” his current female catch has him. He watches her with adoration when she isn’t looking. When she is looking, he teases and pesters her until her eyes flash with irritation.
But when he turns away, she looks at him with adoration as deep and tender as his own.
