Another Piece of My Heart (15 page)

Three people sitting feet apart, separated by a mile of hurt.

*   *   *

Doctor Kurrish is kind, and gentle. She does not ask specifics of the situation, but instead does blood work before taking Emily to a room down the corridor for an ultrasound. Alone.

“You can go in in a minute,” she tells Ethan and Andi, who sit outside, staring mindlessly at CNN without hearing anything, looking up expectantly every time someone enters the room.

Finally, their doctor appears, leading them to her office, gesturing for them to sit and gently closing the door, turning to them with sympathy in her eyes.

“She’s very scared,” she says. “And I can’t get much out of her. I don’t know when she last menstruated or when she last had relations. She keeps saying she doesn’t know, and she’s having an emotional moment in the other room. You can go in to her, but first I want you to know that I think she’s far more advanced than she thinks she is. My guess would be she’s around six, maybe seven months pregnant, but we’ll be able to get a more precise answer when we do measurements during the ultrasound.”

Ethan and Andi both gasp, Andi reaching over for Ethan’s hand to steady herself.

“I’m sorry. This is a shock, I know. You thought it was much earlier?” They nod. “I know Emily expressed a desire for termination, but that isn’t going to be a possibility. She is going to have this baby.”

“Oh, God,” Ethan groans. “Oh, God.”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor says. “But Emily is not the first young girl I’ve seen in this position, and she definitely won’t be the last. My suggestion to you is to start looking into adoption. There are so many families who are unable to have children, who would give this child a loving and wonderful home. You would rest assured that this baby is going to be loved, and Emily can go back to being a teenager, can get on with the rest of her life.

“We have leaflets on adoption I can give you today,” she says. “And a counselor on hand who can talk to you and Emily about it, answer any questions you may have.” The doctor lays a hand on Ethan’s, who is now as white as a sheet.

“This is not the end of the world,” she says, “although I know it feels like it right now. There are women out there who are longing to be mothers, who would give anything to be in the position Emily is in right now.”

I know!
thinks Andi.
I’m one of them!

And she bursts into huge, heaving sobs.

*   *   *

There is nothing to say on the way home. Emily sits in the back, sniffing and gulping, clutching the prenatal vitamins she has been sent home with.

Emily had refused to look at the scan. The sonographer had conducted the scan in silence, clicking the measurements as Emily kept her face turned to the wall, eyes closed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The doctor had set aside the kindness to talk to Emily about drinking.

Fetal alcohol syndrome is a huge concern for the doctor: what Emily has put her body through these past few months. Andi thinks about the drinking, the pot smoking, the God knows what else, and shudders.

“Fetal alcohol syndrome can be caused by one drink, or many. Sometimes we don’t see it at all even when we expect to. It is entirely unpredictable,” the doctor warned.

“What about drinking up to now?” Andi asked reluctantly.

“Let’s not worry about that. No more drinking. The markers look good. There are several indicators of FAS, which are not showing. You have to remember”—the doctor sighed—“it is mostly alcoholics who have babies with FAS. Moderate drinking can be okay. Emily sounds like she has done some binge drinking, but it’s not regular, is that right?”

“Right,” Andi says.

“I think, I hope, it will be fine, but she cannot have any more alcohol.”

“She won’t listen to me,” Ethan said finally. “We’ve tried. Will you tell her?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” The doctor nodded. “I’ll put the fear of God into her.” And she did, hence Emily’s refusal to speak all the way home. She slouched down in the backseat, sinking her chin into her chest, her mouth set in a determined line as she squinted out the window, refusing to talk, refusing to look at them.

When they pull up in the driveway, Emily is first out of the car. She runs into the house, slamming the door behind her. From the driveway, they hear the door to her room slam, then silence.

What are they supposed to do now?

*   *   *

“I can’t believe this,” Ethan whispers, the color still not having returned to his face. He looks down at his hands, splaying his fingers and staring in amazement as they tremble. “I’m a mess,” he says, looking at Andi, both of them still sitting in the car, unwilling to go inside.

“I know.” She dabs away her own tears and takes a deep breath. There is something she has been thinking about all the way home, the same thought that came to her driving through town. She has been only half concentrating on Emily, the thought growing until it has taken up all the space in her head.

It is the obvious solution. So simple, she realizes, it is practically genius, and Ethan, she is certain, will agree. Her dismay and disappointment at Emily’s pregnancy, has morphed, during the car ride home, into excitement and joy.

“I have an idea.”

Ethan just looks at her.

“I know this might sound crazy, and I know you probably won’t say yes right away, but … I’ve been thinking … this is your flesh and blood, your
grandchild
, and I don’t know if I could forgive myself if we gave a member of our family away.…” Her words come out in a rush. She pauses, aware of her heart pounding, hoping she is saying the right thing, the words that will make Ethan say yes.

“I was thinking that maybe the best solution for everyone would be if … you and I … raised this baby.” She looks at Ethan for a reaction, but there is none. He stares at her, in silence. “Emily would still be around, but this baby becomes
ours.
This is the baby we always wanted. And we can do this!” Her words start to flow as she gains confidence.

“I know you never wanted to adopt, and I understand, I really do, all the things you used to say about not wanting to have a baby in your forties, and not wanting to be putting a child through school in your sixties, but neither of us ever anticipated
this.
I have accepted that you and I aren’t going to have a child together. I know you have never understood this … craving I have, this
need
to have a child, and even though it has never gone away, I’ve learned to accept it, and I’ve learned to live with it, and it’s okay. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was okay. But this? This is a gift from God. This is our baby, Ethan. This is the baby we are
supposed
to keep. We need to do this. This is the right thing to do.”

The more Andi speaks, the calmer she grows. Hearing her thoughts out loud, they make even more sense. She is astonished at how practical she sounds, how obvious this solution.

Who would even think of doing anything else? She settles back and watches him expectantly, her head already filled with visions of a bundled blanket of love in her arms.

Seventeen

Andi can’t have heard correctly. Her lips are already poised in a half smile, ready to throw her arms around Ethan and weep tears of joy, for hasn’t this been the one thing she has always wanted? Isn’t this their destiny?

“No,” he says again. “I know how much you wanted,
want,
a child, but this isn’t the right thing to do. It isn’t the right thing for Emily, and it definitely isn’t the right thing for us.”

Andi stares at him, bewildered. “How can you say that? It is the right thing for us, and Emily doesn’t care. This is the one thing I wanted. The only thing I ever asked for…”

“Andi, I can’t go over this again. You know how I feel about adoption and at this stage in my life, in
our
life, I don’t want to be starting again with a baby. I just don’t. I haven’t got the energy, and we’re just starting to get our own lives back. I don’t want the responsibility. I’m sorry. I know how much you want this, but I also know that you had accepted it.”

“I haven’t accepted it,” Andi bursts out. “I still cross my fingers every month, praying that this might be the month when a miracle occurs and I actually find myself pregnant. I don’t have any idea these days when my next period is going to be coming, and each time it doesn’t come on time, I pray it’s not the goddamn perimenopause, and I’m pregnant, and if I was, we
would
have a baby. You wouldn’t have a choice. You wouldn’t be able to just give it away because it wasn’t the right time for you, and you didn’t feel like raising a baby. What about me, Ethan? It’s not just about you.
What about me?
” She is on the brink of tears, desperate to change his mind, to make him see sense.

“This isn’t about me,” he says eventually. “And it’s not about you. This is about what is best for both of us, and this isn’t it. I’m not going to change my mind. Adopting Emily’s baby is madness, and it’s not going to happen. I am not going to turn all our lives any more upside down than they are already. Jesus, Andi. Enough. Please. Another two months, and this will all be over and we can just carry on with our lives as normal.”

“I don’t want to carry on with our lives as normal!” Andi is now sobbing. “I want this baby!”

Ethan stares sadly at her, with a small shake of his head, reaching out to comfort her, wincing as she recoils from his outstretched hand, twisting her head, her whole body, away from him.

“I have to tell Brooke,” he says quietly. “Please come in. Please don’t do this, Andi. I love you. Please.”

Andi looks away from him, not moving until he has closed the car door and disappeared into the house.

Her tears fall hard and fast as over and over again the same words come to her:

How am I going to forgive him? How am I ever going to get over this?

*   *   *

An hour later, Andi is still in the car. Numb. She cannot think anymore, can’t move. All she can do is sit, staring into nothingness, feeling nothing, until a sharp rap on the glass makes her jump.

Drew peers in through the window, concern on his face. “Andi? What’s going on?”

It jerks her out of her reverie, and she opens the door, looking up at Drew with puffy, red-stained eyes.

“Oh, sweetie.” He crouches down next to the car and takes her hand. “What happened?”

Andi wants to tell Drew what is going on. She tries to tell him. She forms the words in her mind, thinks about opening her mouth and letting them come out, but nothing comes. She can’t speak. She can’t do anything other than sit in the passenger seat, one hand on the handle of the now-open door, and stare straight ahead.

“Can I get in?” Drew asks gently. Andi manages a slight nod.

Drew closes Andi’s door, walks around the car, climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Shall I drive us somewhere?” he asks after a while.

Andi manages to nod again.

Drew drives through town, and out through the suburbs. Past familiar buildings, and streets, and on until the Pacific Coast Highway. The buildings disappear, leaving only the winding coastal road, the rough scrub of trees leading down to the choppy waves. It is the landscape that lifts Andi’s spirits, the smells of sea, salt, and pine, the huge expanse of space always calming her down.

Not today.

Drew takes the winding road smoothly, changing the radio station to an easy listening one filled with hits from the seventies. He sings along to Carly Simon and Neil Young, and eventually, as they drive, Andi sings along, too.

They do not talk until they get off the highway high on a cliff above the ocean. Drew parks the car on the top of a cliff with an incredible view. Miles and miles of open land, hills, and valleys fading into a silvery grey in the distance. The wind is up as they wordlessly climb out the car and sit, side by side, on a large rock at the side of the road, staring out into the distance.

“Emily’s pregnant,” Andi says after a very long silence, which is entirely comfortable. “Seven months. I have to begin meeting prospective couples who will adopt this baby.”

“Oh, love.” Drew’s face creases in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“This baby, who is Ethan’s grandchild, is going to be given away to a couple who are desperate for a baby but who can’t have one. I want to raise this child. This is our baby. This is supposed to be mine, but Ethan says no. He won’t do it. He doesn’t want a baby.”

Drew reaches over and holds her hand as the tears come out.

“I can’t stand it,” she moans. “I don’t know how we look after her and lead her through this pregnancy knowing we are giving this baby away. I don’t know how to be that selfless, and I don’t know if I can do it.” She trails into silence.

“How is Emily?”

“How do you think she is? Miserable.”

“So what else is new?” Drew says, and Andi, who would normally smile, shrugs. “Have you spoken to
her
about keeping the baby?”

“No. Ethan won’t even consider it. All he can think about is himself. That’s
he’s
happy with his life the way it is, that
he
doesn’t want to raise another child, that
he
thinks it’s too much of a disruption. He doesn’t give a damn about me or what I want. He won’t keep this baby because he’s protecting Emily. God forbid anything should upset Emily, even though this could be the solution, this could be a win-win for everyone. If we raised this baby, Emily could go to college, could finally leave, and we would have a baby.”

“Don’t you think Ethan will come around?”

Andi shakes her head bitterly. “No. I don’t. Emily wants to brush this under the carpet and forget about it, and that’s why he won’t consider keeping this child.” She turns to Drew, fire in her eyes.

“I never thought I’d say this, but right now? I hate him!” She spits the words.

“No you don’t,” Drew says gently.

“I do! I know you think it’s impossible, but I swear on my life, cross my heart and hope to fucking die, right now, I hate him, and I don’t even know how I’m going to walk back in that house and be in the same room as him.”