Principal Gardner sighed, snapping his briefcase shut. “I know Trista can be difficult to work with, but she’s a dedicated teacher.”
Christina’s shoulders relaxed.
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow. While a comprehensive program would be great down the road, right now the district is interested in seeing student awareness and coping skills improve. I found out today they want us to offer a test at the beginning and end of the program to measure how much improvement took place.”
Just as Christina had suspected. “Is the district providing the test?”
Principal Gardner grimaced, walking toward the door. Christina stepped aside, letting him pass, and followed. They waved to Linda and headed toward the parking lot.
“No. They want you to create it,” Principal Gardner said. “And here’s the real kicker. They want it next week. They need to ‘approve’ the test before we administer it, and we need to administer it on day one of the program.” He sighed. “The red tape in education is enough to drive me crazy. I’m really sorry, Christina. I know they’re asking a lot.”
Creating that test would take at least ten hours by itself. Christina wanted to sigh too, but instead plastered on her teacher smile. “I’ll talk to Trista first thing tomorrow, and we’ll get right on it.”
“I knew I could count on you. I’ll let Trista know we can’t afford to waste time on less prevalent behaviors this year.” Principal Gardner waved, heading toward his car. “Come back and update me on Friday, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Christina said.
Once inside her car, she flipped to a rock station—her guilty pleasure. She looked around to assure herself Principal Gardner had left and no cars were nearby before she turned up the volume.
“Happy Monday,” she muttered to herself as she drove away. It was going to be a long, painful week.
Gary was home by seven. It wasn’t the six o’clock he’d promised, but it was better than eight or nine.
“Hey,” Christina said from where she stood near the stove.
Gary leaned down to kiss her, making her heart flutter in a way it hadn’t in a long time. “I missed you today. I would’ve been home earlier, but a last-minute issue delayed me. What’s for dinner?”
“Fish tacos.”
“Sounds great.” He unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. “What can I do to help?”
Christina froze. In the early years of their marriage, dinner had always been a team effort. But since starting at the firm, Gary usually disappeared into his office until dinner was on the table. “Um, you can grate the cheese. I’ll sear the fish, and we should be ready.”
Fifteen minutes later they sat down to dinner. “You haven’t said anything about the outreach program,” Gary said. “How’s that going?” He took a big bite of his taco and looked at her expectantly.
Was he asking to be polite? Or hoping she’d tell him the program was a disaster so he could gloat? “It’s going well.”
Gary’s eyes narrowed. “You always play with your hair when you’re holding something back.”
Christina’s finger tangled in a curl. She quickly unwound it, dropping her hands into her lap.
“How’s it really going?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to know.” She reached for a glass of water, avoiding his eyes.
“I thought we agreed not to do this. I always want to know. Tell me what’s wrong.”
If he was going to make an effort, so was she. “My co-chair, Trista? She’s a complete control freak.”
Gary’s mouth twitched, and he burst out laughing.
Christina glared. She shouldn’t have opened her mouth. “If you’re going to be a jerk, I won’t tell you anything else.”
Gary pursed his lips together as though trying to keep a straight face, his shoulders hunched from the attempt. “I’m sorry. I know it must be hard to work with her. You’re so particular about things.”
Christina flinched, feeling the words as though they were a whip. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I just like things done right.”
“I’m sorry. Really.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. She pulled away, but he recaptured her fingers. “I’m done laughing. Tell me why she’s being controlling.”
“No.”
“Please?”
She sighed. “Trista can’t seem to focus on the specific aims of the program.”
“How so?”
“She’s trying to do too much with the time allotment we’re given.”
“Have you talked to Principal Gardner about it?”
As Gary showed concern and asked thoughtful questions, Christina opened up. She told him about her conversation with Principal Gardner and how she hoped things would go better next time she spoke with Trista.
“Enough about me. How was your day?” Christina asked.
“Good,” Gary said.
Christina’s heart sank. The typical one-word response. She went back to her plate of food.
“We played a prank on one of the new interns today.”
Christina’s head shot up. Not only had Gary helped with a prank, but he was going to tell her about it?
“The guys always razz new interns. We flipped the screens on their computers so everything was upside down. Totally harmless. But it felt good to be a part of, even if it was juvenile. They had to call the IT guys to flip them back. I felt like a co-worker for the first time, and not just the partner’s son.”
Christina beamed. “That’s great, Gar. I’m glad they’re accepting you.”
She stood and started to clear the table. Gary stood as well, grabbing his dishes and following her into the kitchen.
“Don’t you have work to do?” Christina asked.
He shook his head. “I promised I’d leave things at the office, and I will as much as possible. Do you have work tonight?”
“Some worksheets to grade, but I can put it off.”
“Good. I thought we could watch TV for a while.”
“Sounds great,” Christina said. And it really did.
As they sat cuddling on the couch, watching episodes of Criminology, she felt closer to Gary than she had in a long time. It felt like she had back the man she’d married.
“Want some crackers and hummus?” Gary asked, pausing the DVD.
“Sure,” Christina said, trying not to sound surprised at the thoughtful suggestion.
Christina went to the restroom while Gary got their snack from the kitchen. She stared in shock. She counted in her head. No, she hadn’t lost track of time. It had only been twenty-one days since her last period.
Things were getting worse. Christina’s periods had never been regular, but even this was unusual for her.
“I’m pushing play,” Gary called from the living room.
Christina slowly made her way back to Gary. It wasn’t just about a baby anymore. If something was wrong, her health could be in jeopardy. Maybe that would convince Gary to go to the doctor with her.
Gary munched on a whole-wheat cracker, the TV still paused.
“Gary,” she said, standing behind him.
“Okay, I’m pushing play for real now.”
“Gary.”
He turned around, brows knit together. “What?”
Christina slowly took the remote from his hands, staring at him.
He set the plate of crackers and hummus down on the coffee table. “Is everything okay?”
“My period started.”
“Oh.” He glanced at the TV, then at the hummus, then back at her. She knew he was trying to decide how she wanted him to respond. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s a week early.”
“Okay.” More silence. “But that’s not too weird for you, right?”
“This is unusual, even for me. I really think we should see a doctor.” She could already see his face muscles tightening, but she held up a hand. “It’s not only a baby we’re talking about. It’s not normal for a period to b
e so short. Or unpredictable.”
“Yours have always been that way.”
“But it’s getting worse. Lately I never know when to expect my period or how long it will last. And the cramps are more awful every month. Sometimes it’s so painful I can barely walk.”
“Why haven’t you said anything?”
Because he was never around to talk to. He wasn’t around to see how physically painful it was for her each month. “I didn’t want to worry you. But now I think we should be open to the possibility of finding out what the problem is. Because clearly there is a problem.”
“Christina—”
“Just because we find out what’s wrong doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it right now.”
“Is this an excuse to see about a baby?”
Christina had to consciously will herself not to play with her hair. “Now that’s insulting. Of course I want a baby. But this is about my health too. I haven’t gone to my yearly exam for a few years now.”
Gary’s jaw muscles relaxed. “I guess I never thought about your period pains in terms of your health. Has it really been that long since you went for a checkup?”
Christina tried to keep her face calm and impassive. “Yes. I think something’s wrong.” She held a hand to her abdomen where the cramps were starting to make it ache. “I can feel it in my gut. Literally. We should be pregnant by now, and we’re not.”
“These are two separate issues. I don’t know if I’m ready to be . . .” He swallowed hard. “Infertile.”
Christina reached for his hand. “I don’t know if I’m ready, either. But what if it’s a really simple fix? Medical science can do so much for people these days. Maybe we’ll go to the doctor, and a baby will magically appear nine months later.”
That made the corner of his mouth quirk, and Christina was pleased she’d put that half smile there. “Okay.”
Christina tightened her hand on his arm. “Really?”
“Really. Make the appointment with your doctor. I’m not saying I’m ready to address any” —he grimaced— “fertility issues. But we definitely need to look after your health. If you need to get a checkup, I’m not going to discourage you.”
Christina wanted to jump with joy. She wanted to be ecstatic. But she feared Gary would change his mind if she made a big deal about it. “I really think that’s best,” she said coolly. “I’ll do it first thing in the morning.” Now to change the subject before he changed his mind. She unpaused the DVD. “Let’s finish this episode then go to bed?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
At eight o’clock the next morning, Christina started calling the doctor’s office. The first three times she got a pre-recorded message saying they were out of the office, but on the fourth call someone answered. She gave her name and date of birth, and the receptionist pulled up her charts.
“And how may I help you today, Mrs. Vincent?” the receptionist asked.
“I’d like to make an appointment with Dr. Blakely.”
Christina heard tapping on the keyboard. “What is this concerning?”
Christina chewed on her lip. She knew what Gary expected her to say. But they needed to move forward. “My husband and I have been trying to get pregnant for over a year. I think something’s wrong.”
Ten minutes later, she had an appointment scheduled in two weeks. Christina called Gary to give him the news.
“So soon?” he said.
“Is that a problem?”
She heard his sigh through the phone. “I don’t know about this. Maybe we should wait a little longer.”
“I already made the appointment. If you won’t go with me, I’ll go alone.”
“No, I don’t want to do that either,” Gary said quickly. He probably wanted to make sure she didn’t make any baby-making decisions without him. “I’m willing to see about your health. But I’m not ready for the other stuff.”
“The two are probably connected, Gar. To find out about one we’ll have to find out about the other.”
“Christina.”
Time to end the call. “You’re cutting out. I can’t understand you. Gar . . . I . . . talk . . .”
“I know you’re faking.”
Christina sighed. It had been worth a shot. “I’m going to the appointment. Please don’t make me go alone.”
“Can we please—”
“Oops, there’s the other line. It’s my mother.”
“Aren’t they on a cruise in Greece right now?”
“I’d better get this. See you at home.”
“Christina!”
She hung up the phone. Gary or no Gary, she was going to that appointment. And she would find out what was wrong.
Megan glared at the four small round white pills sitting on the counter as though they were the enemy. “I don’t like you very much,” she told the pills. “Last time you were hateful, and I really didn’t appreciate it.”
The pills sat there, staring innocently up at Megan. Probably calling her crazy for talking to them.
“I know it’s not your fault. You were created to do this. And I guess if you make me a baby, I’ll be happy. But right now, I really don’t want to take you. Let’s make a promise. I’ll be nice to you if you be nice to me, okay?”
The pills didn’t answer. Megan sighed, flopping onto one of the barstools. “This is stupid,” she said to herself. She had just returned home from her baseline ultrasound. Everything looked good, and she was given the go-ahead to start Clomid. But she’d been staring at the pills for ten minutes now, trying to convince herself to take them. The thought of returning to that cold, dark place full of needles and crazy hormones and shattered possibilities and mountains of bills . . .
It was better than never being a mother.
“Fine.” Megan grabbed the four pills and angrily tossed them into the back of her throat before she could reconsider, chasing them down with water in one large gulp. Megan slammed the cup on the table. Too late to turn back now.
As Megan made calls for a client, the symptoms started. She grabbed a magazine off her desk and fanned herself, trying to focus on the other end of the phone conversation. It’s already happening, she thought, heart racing. The pills were taking effect. She put a hand to her mouth, swallowing back the bile rising in her throat. Her body blazed with heat, and a buzzing filled her ears.
It had only been forty-five minutes since she’d taken the Clomid. It was all in her head.
Then again, maybe not. As the evening progressed, her symptoms worsened. Megan tried ignoring them, but that didn’t work.
“Time for a breather,” Megan said aloud, pushing back from her computer desk. She headed toward the laundry room. She’d switch the loads and play the piano for a while. Maybe watch TV. She couldn’t work anymore tonight.
Megan opened the door and zeroed in on Trent’s dirty socks. They sat on the floor, two inches from the hamper.
She let out a scream. “It would take you two seconds more to put them in the hamper,” she yelled to the empty house. “Two. Freaking. Seconds!”
Megan slammed the laundry room door shut without switching the load. If Trent couldn’t be bothered to put his socks in the hamper, then she couldn’t be bothered to put his pants in the dryer.
Ten minutes into furiously pounding out Tchaikovsky, the guilt hit. Megan put the clothes in the dryer, then lay morosely on the couch watching mindless reality TV.
By the time Trent got home, she was a wreck. Megan pounced on him as soon as he walked through the garage door. “How can I feel crazy already?”
Trent didn’t seem surprised by her presence or the question. “What’s got you feeling crazy?”
“You didn’t put your socks in the laundry hamper. You left them right next to it, like you couldn’t be bothered to make the extra effort to help me out.”
“Sorry. I’ll make sure to put them in the hamper next time.”
“I am so mad at you right now.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“They’re just socks. I’ll go put them away.”
“This isn’t about the socks! It’s about the Clomid. I feel irrationally mad right now.”
“You took the pills like what, five hours ago?”
Megan’s eyes narrowed. “This is all your fault. Do you remember what I was like last time on Clomid, Trenton? I didn’t want to take it again, but you pushed until I said yes. Well, this is what you pushed for.” She flounced out of the room.
“Megan, wait. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Put your socks in the hamper!”
Trent tiptoed around the house for the rest of the evening, avoiding Megan as much as possible.
The next morning, she felt even worse. She went for her morning run alone, but not even that helped pound out her frustrations. While showering, Megan discovered Trent had used all the soap and not bothered to replace it. “Trent,” she yelled.
He popped his head into the bathroom. “What?”
“You. Didn’t. Replace. The soap.” She bit out each word.
Trent handed her a new bar, and they finished getting ready for the day in silence. He left for work without kissing her. Fine. She was still mad at him over the socks anyway.
Megan reached for the box and popped four pills from the blister pack. Her hand shook as she filled a glass with water, but she swallowed all four pills anyway.
She worked in her office all morning, then took a break to prepare for her afternoon piano lesson with Sienna. Megan took a few deep breaths and mentally stepped into her teacher persona. Don’t be crazy, Megan commanded herself when the doorbell rang.
“Hi, Sienna,” Megan said.
Sienna nodded, walking inside and slipping off her shoes. “Hey.”
Well, someone was super chatty today.
“Play me your assigned scales to warm up, and then I want to hear the first piece,” Megan said.
Sienna nodded and started playing scales. A discordant note made Megan curl her fingers around the notebook.
“Sorry,” Sienna muttered, playing the correct note and continuing. After she finished her scales, she started on her piece for the week, pulling out the sheet music since she hadn’t yet memorized it. The chords were messy, and Sienna frequently played incorrect notes. Megan watched Sienna’s fingers tremble.
Chasing Someday Page 10