Baby & Bump (The This & That Series) (3 page)

             
“I’ll have my receptionist give you some information about some local single mother support groups. That might be a great outlet for you.” Fletcher made a note on my chart, then gestured to the papered examination table behind me. “Why don’t you lay back, and I can do the examination.”

             
“Oh, um, okay.” I looked at Candace dumbly, who gestured for me to lie down. A wave of self-consciousness rolled over me.

The last time I’d been partially unclothed in front of a man, I’d been drinking
overpriced merlot and watching made-for-TV movies. My buzz had made me feel invincible. I most certainly did not feel invincible on Fletcher’s examination table. I felt unbearably naked, and suddenly aware of every single ounce of cellulite and every single freckle I had on my ultra-white skin. I wish I’d had the good sense to get a decent spray tan before coming to the obstetrician’s office.

“It says in
the medical records you had transferred that you had your breast examination just four months ago. So I won’t need to do that today.” Fletchers voice was soothing and calm, and would have made a normal woman feel relaxed as they lay there with their knees clamped together.

Unfortunately, I’m
not a normal woman.

A plethora of
off color jokes involving breast examinations came to mind as I lay there, his warm hands touching my calves. I’d always been the person that laughed inappropriately at funerals. During Speech 103 in college, when Professor Lidgerwood used the work “rectify” four times in one sentence, I’d been the one to make cheesy jokes. When my mother passed gas during Easter services at church two years ago, I’d been the one with tears rolling down my face. The idea of Dr. Haybee giving me a breast examination was almost too much to handle.

“If you could just put your feet into the stirrups, that would be great.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as he carefully guided my feet into the metal frames.

Candace leaned close to my face to whisper,
“What’s wrong?”

“No
thing.” My voice came out tight since I was holding my breath.

“Are you uncomfortable?” she whispered.

“You could say that.” I nodded, trying hard not to move any muscles from the waist down. The last thing I needed was to fart in Dr. Hottie’s face.

Fletcher’s head popped up between my knees, sending the paper towel fluttering. I scrambled to catch it and put it back down over my bits as he tilted his head
to the side. “You okay, Lexie? Are my hands cold?”

I giggled maniacally, then snorted.
“No. You’re fine.”

When his blonde head sank back out of sight, I turned my face to Candace and dropped my voice as low as it would go. “A little bit of warning would have been nice!”

She came even closer, bringing Aubrey with her. “Warning about what?”

             
I dramatically rolled my eyes from her face, to the area where Fletcher was gathering his speculum—and other such torture devices—and then back up again. “Him.”

             
Candace’s nostrils flared. “Sorry,” she hissed. “I didn’t think it would freak you out this bad.”

             
“It’s not freaking me out, I’m just—”

             
“You know, if you two keep whispering over there, I’m gonna start to feel self-conscious.” Fletcher grinned at us from under my leg. “Now, Lexie, if you could just relax your knees a bit, that would be great.”

             
Drawing a deep breath, I let my knees fall apart approximately three inches.

             
“That’s great. Now a little more…” He drew out the word
little
, and patted my foot affectionately.

             
I looked up at the ceiling, and let my knees separate another two inches. Lord, how long had it been since I’d gotten a bikini wax?

             
“Seriously, Lex. Loosen up.” Candace stifled a laugh. “You need to let the man do his thing.”

             
“Could you put it differently, please?” I hissed.

             
Fletcher’s warm hands went to my knees, which he gently pushed them apart, before settling down in my, er,
bits and pieces
quietly. Grimacing, I stared up at the ceiling and tried to ignore the humiliation creeping up on me. This was the least seductive moment of my life, making the day I had to help my mother shave her legs because she’d broken her wrist seem like a moonlit walk on the beach.

             
Candace snorted softly. “Sorry.”

Once I was finally splayed like
a turkey ready to be stuffed, Fletcher pressed on my lower abdomen. “Okay, now. Just relax. That’s right. Now, I’m going to insert the speculum. Hold tight. It might be chilly.”

             
The moment it hit my body, I yelped and scooted away from Fletcher’s face. “Wow. Did you soak it in ice?”

             
“Just for you,” he joked. His voice was muffled, which made it even more mortifying.

             
“Nobody likes an OB with a sense of humor.” I caught myself clenching my legs together, then reluctantly let them drift apart again.

             
“No humor. Got it.” His hands touched the backs of my knees carefully. “If you could scoot forward, that would be awesome.”

             
“Right-o.” I obeyed, dragging the tissue paper underneath me, resulting in a loud tear. As soon as the room went quiet again, my stomach growled noisily. It sounded like a caged animal.

Candace covered her mouth and looked away as she giggled.

Good grief, this is
humiliating…

             
“Good job. You’ll feel a tiny scrape now.” He laughed politely when I jumped a second time. “You’re doing fine, Lexie. Now I’m just going to check the shape of your uterus.” I started counting ceiling tiles, and got to eighteen before he stood up from his rolling stool and pulled his latex gloves off with a snap. “Your uterus is just slightly tilted. That may make delivery complicated, but I don’t anticipate anything serious.”

             
I nodded and slapped my knees back together. Just because the good doctor’s face had just been down there, didn’t mean I needed to keep it out there for pictures and tours.  “I remember my old gynecologist mentioning that once.”

             
He made a note on my chart, then rolled a portable sonogram machine out from behind the examination table. “Why don’t we take a look and do some measurements?”

             
I took my feet out of the stirrups and crossed my legs at the knees, and then the ankles for good measure. “You can do that?”

             
Candace chuckled. “Of course he can. That machine is for ultrasounds.”

             
“No, I know that. But you can do an ultrasound on it already? Isn’t it the size of a pea?” I watched as Fletcher plucked a bottle of blue jelly out of a warmer and approached me.

             
“It depends on how far along you are. It could be the size of a pea, or maybe even a grape. We’ll take a look and see how many weeks pregnant you are, and then I’ll show you a picture.”

             
Pressing my lips together tightly, I didn’t mention that I already knew exactly how pregnant I was, right down to the hour, what was playing on the television in the background, and what bra I was wearing. It was just classified information that I didn’t want to discuss. Scratch that,
couldn’t
discuss.

             
Fletcher rolled up the hem of my tee shirt, lowered the paper towel on my abdomen, and squirted a hefty dose of the jelly onto my skin. The moment the wand-like instrument touched my skin, the sound of static and a soft
whoosh whoosh
filled the room. Next to me, baby Aubrey hushed and Candace released a tiny gasp, before looking at me with tear filled eyes.

             
“It’s real.” She breathed. “This is really happening, Lex. You’re pregnant.”

             
“You didn’t believe it?” I asked.

She laughed. “This just makes it all so real.”

The whooshing sound filled my ears. “What is that sound?”

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.” Fletcher moved the wand, and the sound intensified. “Very strong. About one hundred sixty beats a minute.” He turned the monitor screen around so that I could see what he was looking at. Fletched pointed at a dark shadow on the snowy screen that was the exact shape of a kidney bean, with a tiny flashing burst of white in its center. “You see here? That’s the
fetus, and that flash is the heart beating. You look to be about ten weeks and two days along.”

The lights in the room dimmed and the only thing I saw was the kidney bean. No other sound in the room filled my ears except the soft thrushing of my child’s heart, and without warning my own heart started to thud in unison. Every single cell in my body squeezed at the same time, and I forgot about Candace, Aubrey, the secret surrounding the baby’s f
ather, and even the hot doctor.

The only thing I could focus on was that flashing heart.

I loved my child. I loved it even though I didn’t even know it. I loved it even though my entire life, my entire world, was changing from right side up to wrong side down. I loved it even though its father wanted nothing to do with it.

I was going to be a mother.

Chapter Three

             
Dinner at my mother’s house is always an experience. From the time I was little, she’d collected Cabbage Patch dolls. The collection started out in my honor. She said she was gathering the dolls for my sake, her only daughter, her namesake—my full name is Alexandria Patsy Baump—but it became clear by the time I’d started junior high that the collection was hers and hers only.

             
Cabbage Patch Kids in every size, shape, and color, with every outfit imaginable. Some were preemies with tiny tufts of fake hair atop their plastic heads. Others were kids sporting scooters or skateboards. From a chef’s hat and coat, to an astronaut, all of my mother’s Cabbage Patch Dolls were dressed to the nines, and arranged on the wall-to-wall shelves of her living room as if they’d been frozen mid-activity. Tiny outfits of sunny yellow, bright blue, and varying shades of pink adorned their paunchy bodies, and a thin layer of dust covered each of their ornately styled yarn heads.

             
Most people in our small corner of Spokane knew Patsy Baump’s house was not for the faint of heart. When you entered her house, you had to be prepared for tens of thousands of eyes to watch your every move, and to feel utterly creeped out as you use the bathroom while a horde of beady-eyed doll children observe.

             
“Lexie, dear, you’re late. What gives?” my mother asked when I walked into her house.

I’d been walking on air
after my sonogram, putting the finishing touches on the pate squares I’d been making with a silly grin splayed on my face. So many emotions to sort through. Excitement and anticipation over impending motherhood. Trepidation about the big news I had to share with my family over a bowl of my mother’s famous cheddar ham soup. And the surprising crush on my obstetrician I was now sporting, despite the fact that he was well aware I’d been too sick to shave my legs properly in weeks.

             
“Sorry.” I pulled off my coat and threw it over a doll’s head. “I worked late. I had a doctor’s appointment this morning that I had to make up time for.”

             
“Don’t cover up Nathaniel’s head.” My mother plucked my jacket off of the yarn-covered head and patted it lovingly.

             
I forgot to mention that each of my mother’s dolls had names. First and middle. And each of them had the last name of Baump. Naturally.

             
She frowned at me, her mouth pursing. “Why did you go to the doctor? Are you getting those headaches again? I told you to have a CAT scan.”

             
“No. Not headaches.” I hugged my mom and looked around. “Where is everybody?”

“They’re around.” She crossed through the living room to the kitchen where Corbin and Andrea were diligently chopping and sautéing. My younger brother, Darren, was furiously punching buttons on his phone, presumably texting some poor girl who would fall for his charm then get left in the dust within a matter of weeks.

“Who’s your latest victim?” I bumped his chair as I passed.

Darren flashed a twenty-tooth grin and I rolled my eyes. He’d inherited the blonde hair,
blue eyes, and undeniable good looks that had served so many in my family well. His man-beauty was so dazzling that at times it was easy for even me to forget that at twenty-five years old, he was a college dropout who worked at a cell phone store in the mall and chased women who were barely old enough to have a legal drink. Darren had no intention of ever settling down, which added to the pressure my mother thrust upon me to remarry and procreate as quickly as possible. In my last birthday card, she’d suggested freezing my eggs.

Well, at least I had the procreation thing in the bag. That was something.

“Her name is Pandi, and she’s a dancer.” He announced this with pride. As if he were announcing he’d caught the Loch Ness Monster.

“What kind of a name is Pandi? Is she a large black and white bear?” I snatched a piece of stale candy out of the dish sitting on my mother’s counter and popped it in my mouth, instantly inducing a wave of nausea.
Fifteen-year-old ribbon candy was officially off the list of edible first trimester foods.

“No. She’s stacked
, though.” Darren waggled his eyebrows and went back to his texting.

“Ugh. You’re a pig.” I flared my nostrils at him. “Mom, how did you manage to raise such a pig?”

“Breast milk,” she announced definitively, stirring the pot of soup.

“Geez, Ma! We’re about to eat.
” Darren twisted his handsome face.

I heard Corbin and Andrea snickering and poked them both on the shoulder. “Don’t encourage her. I don’t
want to hear about Mom’s boobs anymore than the rest of you.”

My mother gave me a pointed look over the top of the
pink-lensed glasses. “Ha, ha, ha. Laugh it up, but it’s a fact. He’s the only one of you kids I didn’t breastfeed. Now look at him. Completely unable to commit.”

“I can commit,” Darren said defensively. “I just choose not to.”

Corbin looked up from the lettuce he was chopping. “So what kind of dancer is this Pandi-bear?”

Andrea raised an eyebrow at him. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

“I’m with your wife on this one.” I leaned on the countertop and snatched a piece of celery.

“She studied ballet
. Before.” Darren’s phone beeped and he chuckled quietly at whatever the text said.

“Before what?” I asked around my bite.

“Before dancing in the cage at the Lusty Lass.” Corbin nudged me.

“Would you t
wo stop it?” My mother snapped a towel at us. “She could be
the one
.”

“So you want Darren to marry a stripper, Ma?” Corbin laughed.

“It’s honest work.” She shook her head.

             
I poked my oldest brother in the ribs. “You just wish you moved as good as the girls who work at the Lusty Lass.”

             
Corbin stared off in the distance dreamily. “That’s the truth.”

             
My mom and Andrea exchanged a smirk, and I rolled my eyes. Like me, Corbin inherited our late father’s red hair and fair skin. Unfortunately for both of us, we’d skipped the rhythm gene as well, so it was inevitable that we were always the whitest and least coordinated people on the dance floor at every family wedding. Sad, really.

             
“I think you all need to support your little brother.” My mother ignored the face Corbin made at me. “You never know. This Candi—”

             
“Pandi,” Andrea corrected.

             
“Pandi,” she said with a shake of her head. “Could be your sister-in-law someday—”

             
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ma,” Darren called.

             
“And since you aren’t dating anyone,
Lexie
, someone has to give me grandkids.” She hoisted the soup pot off of the stovetop and lugged it to the table, nodding at Corbin and Andrea. “No offense, dears.”

             
My brother’s and his wife’s faces both dropped, making my heart clench. When my mother whisked out of the room, leaving behind the faded aroma of Red Door perfume, Corbin rubbed Andrea on the back. My hands instinctively went to my lower abdomen. It felt like something warm and glowing was nestled deeply in there. It felt wrong for my brother and his wife to crave parenthood as vehemently as they did, and I’d managed to stumble upon my pregnancy the same way others discovered that they’d found a crumpled twenty-dollar bill in the bottom of their washing machine.

             
“Come on,” Andrea said, wiping her nose. She plucked the ceramic bowl of salad up and followed my mother’s trail to the dining room. “Dinner’s about to start.”

             
We sat down around the table, Darren’s thumbs furiously punching his phone while we all started passing the food around.

“Darren
Kyle Baump, put that phone down and pay attention to your family,” my mother barked from her spot at the head of the table. We all served ourselves and dug in.

             
“Mom, the soup is great as always.” Corbin wiped his mouth with a napkin. “When are you going to share your recipe with me so I can make it for Andrea at home?”

             
My mother shifted in her seat, and she patted her blonde helmet proudly. Flattery got people everywhere with my mom. “It’s a secret.”

             
“I realize that.” Corbin took another bite and closed his eyes. “But I’m thirty-five now. Don’t you think I’m old enough to be trusted with the sacred family recipes?”

             
Andrea nodded. “Like the pumpkin cheesecake recipe.”

             
I pointed my fork at my mother. “And the potato salad.”

             
Darren stopped shoveling food into his mouth, and looked up from his bowl. “And the finger jello.”

             
Corbin stared at him. “Of all of Mom’s recipes, you want the one for finger jello?”

             
“Finger jello is awesome.” Darren wiggled his eyebrows. “Jello shots, dude.”

             
Rolling my eyes, I went back to my soup. “You’re a child.”

             
“No, I’m not.” He shoved another bite in. “A child cannot legally drink. I, on the other hand,
can
.” Darren focused his attention on me. “Why are you acting so old, anyway, Lex? It’s not like you’ve got all these responsibilities to keep you home. You should come out with me and Pandi sometime. Do a few shots yourself and loosen up.”

             
“I don’t need to loosen up.” I put my spoon down slowly. My stomach had turned into merry-go-round. Good Lord, was I ever going to be able to eat a meal without wanting to yak again?

             
“Yes, you do.” Darren laughed. “You’re wound tight. Seriously, come out with me this weekend. My friend, Spoons, thinks you’re cute.”

             
“Spoons?” Andrea chuckled. “Do I even want to know where someone gets the nickname of
Spoons
?”

             
Corbin choked on his soup. “I say go for it, Lex. Go out with Spoons, and let Pandi and Darren show you a good time.”

             
“Do you have any friends with normal names?” I asked my little brother, who’d pulled his phone out again, and was texting under the table.

             
“Yes,” he said. “Barry. Joe. Axel. Rosco.”

             
Corbin, Andrea, and I all dissolved into giggles, and my mom just shook her head. “Your friends have terrible names,” she sighed. “Lexie, did you know that Andrea and Corbin bought a new house to flip on the South Hill?”

             
The South Hill was one of Spokane’s most coveted neighborhoods. With its hills, mature pine and maple trees lining the center of the roads in between the lanes, and turn of the century homes, I’d been dreaming about living there for years. “Really?” I asked, pushing my bowl back. “No kidding, guys? Where at?”

             
Corbin squeezed his wife’s hand. “It’s on Elm, and it is completely made of brick, with paned windows and a tiny courtyard out front.”

             
“It’s gorgeous. Apparently the owner died five years ago, and it’s been empty ever since. His children finally decided to sell, since it’s gone into such disrepair.” Andrea grinned.

She and Corbin’s reputation in the world of real estate around these parts was impressive, to say the least. The local realtors loved telling their buyers that
they were selling a “Baump Home.” The name was synonymous with exceptional quality and high-end finishings. No corners cut by Corbin and Andrea. They took pride in their work, and it showed.

             
“We’re going to bring it back to life.” Corbin nodded affirmatively. “The plan is to have it done in three or four months. Why don’t you buy it, Lex? That should be enough time for you to put in notice at your apartment and arrange for financing.”

             
“It’s the perfect house for you.” Andrea helped herself to more soup. “It’s a buyers’ market right now, you know.”

             
My mother laughed breezily. “What? You want Alexandria to buy a house? On her own? Alone?”

             
Darren looked up from his phone. “That means the same thing, Ma.”

             
“Hush.” She scolded him. “Now, Lexie, you’re not seriously considering this, are you?”

             
I gaped at her. “I just found out about it. I’m not seriously considering anything right now. Don’t you think it’s a good idea?” An image of the little flashing heart I’d seen on my ultrasound earlier, and my chest expanded. “I’m thirty. It’s probably time I put down some roots somewhere.”