Meant To Be (16 page)

“Will do,” Frank said. “Enjoy your night.”

“Oh we will.” Justine was practically pulling Daniel down the hallway to their room.

****

Marienne heard the hotel room door open, but left her eyes closed. The room was dark except for the flickering light of the TV. Frank crawled into bed next to her. His hands roamed over her, the smell of scotch surrounded her with each of his puffing breaths. She moaned, shifting her legs to scoot away, but he took her movement as encouragement. He hooked his thumb inside the scalloped top edge of her panties and began to pull them down her legs.

“Mmphh,” she said, rolling over onto her back. “What time is it?” She rubbed her forehead.

“It’s twelve o-cock.” He took her hand and placed it on himself then kissed her neck.

She stroked a few times, but stopped. “Uhrrrmmmmmm,” she moaned, the nausea returning. He climbed on top of her, rubbing more insistently. She shifted beneath him, but he pressed harder.

Her stomach churned. She sat up, hand over her mouth. “I’m gonna be sick.” She pushed him aside as she scrambled out from underneath him and rushed toward the bathroom.

She heard Frank mutter “fuck” right before she slammed the bathroom door. Again she barely made it to the toilet. There was nothing left in her system, but she retched several times before the heaving stopped. The tile felt ice cold against her bare legs. She pulled a towel down from the shelf beneath the sink and wrapped it around her lower body. The bright light of the bathroom made her head ache.

She slumped next to the bathtub, waiting to see if the nausea would return. Her stomach felt crampy, and her breasts were full and achy. Plus something was pinching her. She tugged at the center of her bra. Pretzel bits scattered across her lap.
Snack for later
.

Ugh. Funny, but none for me thanks.
The thought of food made her head spin.

What’s wrong with me? Would a stomach bug linger for this long? Does PMS include vomiting and dizziness?
She ran through the possibilities then stopped, counting backwards to her last period.
Four, five, six? Six? Could it have been over six weeks ago?
She counted again, her eyes getting wide.

I’m late. Over two weeks late. Could I be?

She pushed herself up from the floor and approached the mirror, staring as though something in the reflection might answer her question.

****

Marienne convinced Frank to stop at a drugstore on the drive home, saying she still felt queasy, which was quite true. Frank waited in the car. She grabbed Pepto-Bismol and a box of saltines then wandered by the pregnancy tests. Each brand proclaimed itself to be the most accurate. Unsure which to choose she bought one of each.

She told Frank she wanted to lie down and headed upstairs, but instead of getting into bed, she locked herself in the bathroom. In spite of the differences in the tests, they each contained the same instructions: For most accurate results use with first morning urine.
First morning urine?
She sighed. She didn’t want to have to wait another day.
Most accurate results. That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t show up now….

A nervous flutter ran through her as she opened up one of the test packets.

Remove protective cap and hold stick in urine stream for at least five seconds.
Sounds easy enough.

She followed the directions, replacing the cap when she was done.
Wait three minutes before reading. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand,
she counted the numbers in her head as she waited for one hundred and eighty seconds to pass. She held her breath as she picked up the test. The plastic window was a rosy pink color with one dark pink line. Her heart sank.
One line, not pregnant.
Guess it was just wishful thinking.

She stashed the other kits in the cabinet beneath the sink. The test lay on the counter and she picked it up to give it one last look. As she examined it she turned it slightly.

Is that another line?
It was so faint she couldn’t tell. Her heart pounded. She moved closer to the mirror and held the stick directly under the light. She grabbed the instructions.
Frequently asked questions… Do not read test after ten minutes. Has it been ten minutes? If lines are unclear, retake test using new stick.
She sighed.

She knew she’d have to wait for morning.

****

Between the nausea and the anticipation, she tossed and turned all night. She awoke with a start. The sun was up; she could officially retake the test. Making sure not to wake Frank, she crept out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. She had to pee so badly she wasn’t sure she’d be able to wait long enough to get the tests out of the packages. Not wanting a repeat of the previous inconclusive result, she’d decided to take all three remaining tests at once. Peeing on three consecutive strips was challenging, but she was determined. The three-minute wait seemed to take hours. She kept her eyes closed the whole time. It was too scary to look.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. One plus sign, two pink lines, and two blue lines.

Oh my God. I’m pregnant.

She stared at the tests, double checking the instructions, making certain she was reading them correctly. There was no question; she was pregnant.

The doorknob jiggled, and she jumped.

“What are you doing in there?” Frank asked.

She gathered the test sticks in her hand, and then opened the bathroom door.

“Why are you up so early?” Frank yawned.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, without thinking.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant.” She held up the sticks. “I took three tests, and they all say the same thing.”

His eyes bugged. “Holy shit. I guess that explains all the puking, huh?”

She nodded.

“Jesus.” He rubbed his forehead. “We only stopped using birth control a few weeks ago.”

“I know,” she said. “Guess it’s a good thing we were so careful before.”

“That’s for sure.”

“You’re happy, right?” she asked. He looked more stunned than anything else, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Well, sure, yeah. I mean we decided we should start trying, I just didn’t think it would happen this fast. Guess my boys are good swimmers.”

“I guess so.”

“So, what now? You have to go to a doctor, right?”

“Yeah, I should get a real test done, and an exam, I think. I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Wait ‘til we tell my mother. She’s gonna flip.”

“I don’t want to tell anyone yet,” she said. “It’s bad luck. You’re not supposed to tell anyone early on.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You’re just not. Not until you’re three months along and chance of miscarriage drops.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

“Whatever. I don’t want to argue. We’ll talk about this after you go see your doctor.” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “I gotta get in the shower, I’m gonna be late.”

“It’s Sunday. Late for what?” She had hoped they could talk more.

“Racquetball.”

“Oh.”
I guess we’ll have the next nine months to talk about this.

****

The doctor’s visit confirmed what she already knew. She was pregnant, and she had a particularly bad case of ‘morning sickness’ that seemed to be lasting most of every day.

“It’s perfectly normal,” the doctor said. “Try to eat whatever you can keep down and get as much rest as possible.”

The resting was easy. She was exhausted all the time. Every day she came home from work and got straight into bed. Keeping food down was another matter. Not only did food still hold no appeal, but her sense of smell also seemed to grow stronger every day. Walking by a restaurant or deli was enough to make her wretch.

She couldn’t cook anything. Raw food was the worst. The sight of uncooked meat made her instantly queasy. Cooked meat wasn’t much better. Frank brought home sandwiches one night and she stared at hers, bright pink ham, glaringly yellow cheese, the mere sight turned her stomach.

They had to cancel dinner at their house two weeks in a row. When Daniel and Justine invited them over, they said yes, but at the last minute she got sick again, and Frank went by himself. Frank was very impatient with her. He didn’t like sitting at home and he really didn’t like the fact that she couldn’t cook.

“Can’t we at least tell my mother so she’ll bring us some food?” he asked.

“No,” she said. She was adamant about not wanting anyone to know. Feeling so awful made her nervous something would go wrong with the baby and she didn’t want to take any additional chances. Frank clearly didn’t understand.

“You’re being completely irrational,” he said.

“No, I’m not. This is important to me. And you know it’s not something that I came up with out of nowhere. Lots of people don’t believe in telling anyone until they’re at least three months along. I need you to support me on this, okay? Please?”

“Fine, but I think it’s ridiculous.” He didn’t look happy about it, but Marienne was too nauseated and exhausted to care.

Chapter Eighteen

Daniel sat on his deck grading mid-term essays. It was the first warm day of spring and he had the day off. The noon sun was so relaxing he almost dozed off. The faint sound of glass breaking stirred him from his near slumber. He looked around to see where the noise had come from and saw the screen door at Marienne’s house swinging shut.
That’s odd.
It was Friday, midday, and both Marienne and Frank should have been at work. He decided to see if everything was all right.

A broken drinking glass lay on the ground by their patio table. He was about to knock when he saw Marienne. Her fingers wiped beneath her eyes as she walked toward the door. She jumped when she saw him.

“Geez, you scared me.” She opened the door. “I didn’t expect to see anyone standing there.”

“Are you okay?” He motioned toward the broken glass.

“Yeah.” She sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t look fine. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was pale except for her splotchy, flushed cheeks. Daniel suspected she’d just thrown up. She looked thin and fragile, not well at all.

“What happened?” His thumb nervously rubbed the table edge.

“Just me being clumsy. I was taking a glass of water out to the deck and dropped it.”

“You’re not working today?”

“I was.” She hesitated. “I got sick, so Trisha drove me home.”

“You were too sick to drive?”

She nodded. “It’s no big deal, just a little dizzy.”

“This has been going on for weeks now. You really should go to a doctor.”

****

Marienne looked at him, taking in the concern in both his words and his face, his eyes dark with fear and worry. She had to tell him. “I’m not sick.” She inhaled deeply. “I’m pregnant.”

She held her breath, as though speaking the words aloud might cause some sort of noticeable shift in everything around her. All that actually changed was the expression on Daniel’s face, which morphed from worried, to stunned, to relieved, to comprehending, then back to stunned.

He stared at her. “Oh my God. That’s fantastic.”

She nodded, waiting for him to finish digesting the news.

“I mean it is fantastic, right? You’re okay?” His emotions seemed to pause back at worried.

“I’m fine. Just nauseated and tired. I’m a cliché.”

“Good. I mean not good that you’re not feeling well, but good that you’re fine.”

She smiled at his rambling.

“Wow. You must be so…how are you? Are you thrilled? Surprised? Scared?”

“Yes.” She laughed.

“And Frank. He must be ecstatic.”

“He’s more or less stuck in the surprised category. We’d only just started trying, and I think he was hoping it would take a lot longer than it did.”

“Oh,” Daniel said. “I guess that makes sense, but if you were trying it couldn’t really have been a total shock. Although I guess it’s always kind of a shock. I don’t know, I’m sorry, I’m babbling. I’m just happy for you and glad you’re all right. I was really starting to worry.”

“I noticed.”

He cringed. “Sorry. I hope I wasn’t too overbearing. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I know.” She stood up and walked over to the fridge. “Iced tea?”

“Sure.” He got up and took the pitcher out of her hands. “Go sit down, I’ll get this.”

Marienne climbed onto one of the bar stools and sighed. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Not your fault. I tend to overreact when someone I care about seems sick. Bad experience.”

Marienne tilted her head to the side.

Daniel handed her a glass. He looked down, pausing. “I knew there was something wrong with my mum for a while before we found out how ill she really was. Now I guess my mind automatically goes there when I sense something’s wrong. Sorry.”