Chasing Someday

by Lindzee Armstrong

  Gary opened the box, clearly desperate to distract Christina and Elauna from their argument. He lifted the lid and pulled out a stuffed bear.

  “It’s the Jazz Bear,” Elauna said. “The firm had a suite for the last home game, and we decided to go. It was fabulous. The Jazz Bear was so entertaining. I simply had to buy it for your baby.”

  Christina gritted her teeth. “That’s so thoughtful. Except we don’t have a baby.”

  Elauna raised an eyebrow, calling over her shoulder as Christina and Gary trailed her into the living room and took their seats. “I’m aware. I know you like saving those Hispanic children or whatever it is you do at that job of yours. But you need to make my boy a father.”

  “Mother, it’s not just Christina’s decision—” Gary began.

  “I’m sixty-two years old. I would like to see my grandchildren before I wither away and die.”

  “Mother—”

  Elauna turned in her seat to face Christina, lips pursed. “I know Gary wants to be more established, but you can talk him into a child. You two need to stop this career nonsense and focus on what’s really impor—”

  “We’re infertile!” Christina screamed.

  Elauna’s mouth fell open mid-word. Alexander closed his newspaper and set it aside. Gary looked like he’d been stunned by a Taser gun. But he nodded, encouraging her to go on.

  “We’re infertile,” Christina repeated, quieter now. “That’s what my surgery was for, not appendicitis. We won’t have children unless we do in vitro.”

  Elauna blinked. “That seems like a premature conclusion. How long have you been trying? All I hear about is how you’re not ready yet.”

  “We’ve been trying for more than a year,” Gary said, taking Christina’s hand in his.

  “You can’t be trying hard enough.”

  Alexander snorted. “Elauna, really. There’s only one way to make a baby. I don’t think they’re doing it wrong.”

  Christina’s face burned. Where was a cave to crawl into when she needed one?

  “You need a second opinion,” Elauna said. “This is too important to trust to any old doctor.”

  “We already got one,” Gary said. “And if we want children, it’s not going to happen the old fashioned way.”

  Elauna shook her head. “You can’t honestly be considering one of those test tube babies. If you have enough faith—”

  “IVF is a medical miracle,” Christina interrupted. “If we end up having a baby that way, it will be no less amazing than if we got pregnant on our own.”

  “But you grow your baby in a test tube.” Elauna stood, shaking with anger. “It’s unethical. Do you know what they do with the babies you don’t want? They kill them. You can’t do it. I won’t let you.”

  Gary stood as well. “It’s not your decision.”

  “If you prayed harder, were more faithful—”

  “That is enough!” Gary turned to Christina. “We’re leaving.”

  Christina should’ve been surprised that Gary was finally—finally—standing up to Elauna. But she was too busy trying not to tear Elauna to shreds. They left the room, Gary’s hand at Christina’s back.

  Elauna’s heels clicked on the marble floor behind them, and Christina heard the shuffle of Alexander’s slippered feet.

  “We need to discuss this, Gary,” Elauna said. “You shouldn’t make such a rash decision without first consulting your parents. Maybe if you talk to the pastor—”

  Gary whirled around. His eyes blazed with fury. “This isn’t happening because we lack faith. Christina is a good woman. She is a good wife.” He took Christina’s hand, pulling her to him. “We’re good people. God isn’t punishing us. This is just our trial right now.” He turned to Christina. “Wait right here, and I’ll grab the dessert. Since it isn’t a mix, Mother and Father won’t miss it.”

  Elauna followed Gary to the kitchen. “You’re being ridiculous. Dinner’s all ready. We can discuss this while we eat.”

  Gary reappeared with the pan of brownies in one hand and ice cream in the other. He motioned for Christina to open the door. “This isn’t an issue we need to discuss with you. When you are ready to apologize for your behavior, we’ll be more than happy to return to your home.”

  “Garrison Alexander Vincent!” Christina heard the hysteria and fury in Elauna’s voice, but Gary ignored it. Christina opened the car door and got inside while Gary put the brownies and ice cream on the back seat. Elauna was still yelling at them as they drove away.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” Christina said. “Thank you.”

  Gary’s jaw clenched. “She had no right to insult us. No right to question our judgment.”

  “I know. You defended me, and I appreciate it. I know it’s hard for you to go against your mother.”

  His gaze flicked to Christina, then to the road. “I’m trying to be a good husband. When Mother started talking back there, I suddenly knew we were doing the right thing. Call it a return to teenage rebellion if you want, but we’re on the right path.” His hands flexed on the steering wheel. “I’m still scared. I’m still uncertain. But I’m in this one hundred percent now. We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

  “Make sure you mind Mrs. Everhart and be a sweet girl,” Kyra told Sophie as they walked across the lawn to Cassandra’s.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Daddy and I have an appointment.”

  “For what?”

  Kyra’s fingernail found its way into her mouth. They were meeting with the financial adviser at the fertility clinic. If Kyra told Sophie, she might let it slip. And then Cassandra would know they were having problems, both in the fertility and financial arena. “Some adult stuff.”

  “Oh.”

  They trudged up the stairs to Cassandra’s front door, and Sophie rang the bell. Kyra heard the pounding of little footsteps, and then the door flew open. Cassandra opened her mouth, presumably to say hello, but Malachi jumped forward. His corkscrew curls stood up wildly on his head, and he grinned. “We’re going to play with bubbles.”

  “Yay!” Sophie said. She moved to run inside, but Kyra grabbed her arm.

  “What are you going to do?” Kyra asked.

  “Obey Malachi’s mom,” Sophie said.

  Kyra nodded and gave Sophie a kiss on the cheek. “Good girl. I love you.” Sophie disappeared into the house. “Thanks for watching her again,” Kyra told Cassandra.

  “No problem. I hope everything goes well at the doctor’s.”

  Kyra tried to keep her face impassive. “I’m sure it will.”

  “I hope David doesn’t need surgery,” Cassandra said.

  A white lie. David’s carpal tunnel had been acting up over the last few days—an occupational hazard of being a computer programmer. Kyra hoped her guilt didn’t show. “We should be back in a couple of hours.”

  “No rush. Malachi loves having someone his age to play with.”

  David waited for Kyra in the car, eighties music blaring from the radio. He sang along to the radio, oblivious to her distress.

  “What if we don’t qualify?” Kyra asked.

  David stopped singing. “For a loan?”

  “We have a lot of debt.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like it’s credit card debt. We qualified for the van.”

  “I guess.” Kyra chewed on the end of her fingernail.

  “IUI isn’t too expensive. It’s not like we’re financing in vitro.”

  At the fertility clinic they checked in at the front desk. But instead of staying in the waiting room, a nurse ushered them downstairs to the financial planner’s office. Two mismatched filing cabinets stood against the far wall. A long folding table supported a printer and fax machine. Post-it notes were stuck all over the wall behind the computer.

  “Diane, your two o’clock is here,” the nurse said.

  A woman looked up from her computer. Her long gray hair fell nearly halfway down her back in a braid. Chunky turquoise jewelry ador
ned her ears, fingers, and throat. “Thanks, Leanne.” As the nurse left, Diane rose, leaning across the desk to shake each of their hands as they made introductions.

  “So, tell me your situation,” Diane said.

  David and Kyra explained their infertility diagnosis, the medical procedures they needed, and their financial situation.

  “Give me a few minutes to crunch some numbers,” Diane said when they finished.

  “Of course.” David leaned back in his chair. Kyra went back to gnawing on her nail, and Diane used the ten key. The fax machine beeped, and papers started slowly printing. A desk fan whirred quietly. Diane’s fingernails clicked on the keyboard.

  “We don’t qualify, do we?” Kyra asked five minutes later.

  Diane looked up. “Oh, I’ve worked with tighter budgets and a lot worse credit scores than this. I’m confident they’ll be able to qualify you for a loan, no problem.”

  Kyra relaxed against her chair, some of the tension easing from her back and shoulders.

  Diane turned back to the computer. “I’m giving you estimates for a monthly loan payment with a few different APRs and terms. Just a few more minutes, I’m almost done.” She pushed a button and spun around in her chair to grab a paper from the printer. She placed it on the desk in front of them. “Of course, you still have to meet with the loan company, but I work closely with them, and my numbers are usually only off a few dollars, if anything.” She explained the table to them. There were different loan amounts, interest rates, and terms in each box, but it gave Kyra and David a good idea of what they were getting into.

  “Once you meet with the loan officer, it takes a few weeks to get approved,” Diane said. “But the clinic won’t make you wait. You can start treatments for your upcoming cycle, and the loan will retro-pay for anything from the point of application on.”

  “What if we aren’t approved?” Kyra asked.

  “You will be. Don’t worry. But if you aren’t, the clinic will work out a repayment plan. Just know they won’t let you move forward with treatments until your balance is paid from the previous cycle.” Diane pulled a business card from the top desk drawer and handed it to Kyra. “Here’s the number for the loan officer. Tell him you’ve spoken with me, and he’ll get you in right away.”

  They both shook Diane’s hand and thanked her for her help.

  “Good luck,” Diane said. “I hope you get pregnant soon.”

  Me too, Kyra thought. They smiled and left the office.

  “Well?” Kyra asked David as they got in the van.

  “I think we should get the loan. We can afford one of the lower payment amounts with longer terms.”

  “Which begs the question, how big of a loan do we take out? We have no idea how many IUIs this will take.”

  “Dr. Mendoza said for most couples it happens within the first three IUIs.”

  “We’ve already done two.”

  “Yeah, and I think we should give ourselves two more.”

  “So a two thousand dollar loan.” Kyra looked down at the paper Diane had printed off, locating the column with that amount and going across to the monthly payment. It would be tight, especially with the van payment.

  But they could make it work.

  “And what if we aren’t successful in two IUIs?” Kyra asked.

  “We’ll take out another loan. But we won’t have to. It’s going to work.”

  Another two thousand dollars spent on fertility treatments. Kyra’s stomach roiled at the thought. She hated debt. But she couldn’t put a price tag on the joy Sophie brought them. So how could she put a price tag on their future children? Once they had the baby—once they held that sweet child in their arms—none of it would matter.

  “Let’s make the appointment with the loan officer,” Kyra said. “I want to keep trying.”

  When they got home, Kyra walked over to Cassandra’s to pick up Sophie. “How was she?” Kyra asked as she helped Sophie put on her shoes.

  “Great,” Cassandra said. “I barely noticed she was here. How did the doctor appointment go? Will David need surgery?”

  Kyra lowered her head, focusing on the buckle on Sophie’s shoe. “No surgery.”

  “Oh, that’s a relief.”

  “Yeah.” Time to redirect the conversation. Kyra really hated lying. “Thanks again. Please let me know if I can return the favor.”

  A few days later, they met with the loan officer and were approved. By the time Kyra started Clomid, the financing had come through. The first bill for the van came a few days later.

  The IUI will work, Kyra told herself as she made the payment for the van online. The loan is worth it. We’re doing the right thing. The IUI will work. Please, let it work.

  Christina couldn’t help but feel sad as she looked around her classroom. All twenty-eight students were spread around the room, enjoying the laid-back atmosphere of the last day of school. Some sat in the reading nook, lounging on bean bag chairs with a book in hand. Others were in the discovery corner playing game or doing crossword puzzles on the floor. Excited chatter filled the room.

  After today, she’d no longer be their teacher, and they’d no longer be her students. The bulletin boards were empty, stripped of all her hard work. The counters had been scrubbed. Student desks gaped empty and black, pushed into one corner of the room.

  Christina would miss this class. It never ceased to amaze her how much her students grew in the course of a school year. What had started out as an incredibly rambunctious set of six-year-olds were now a group of seven-year-olds possessing considerably more self-control.

  Christina looked at the clock on the wall. Only a half hour left of school. She rang the bell on her desk, and within seconds the noise level dropped considerably. “I need everyone to put away their books and games and meet me at the rug. We’re going to read one last story together. Clap if you understand.”

  Scattered claps sounded, and the students scurried to put away their things and gather at the rug. After five minutes of prodding them to hurry, Christina sat down. From the easel she picked up the book she always read on the last day of school—Oh, the Places You’ll Go by Dr. Seuss.

  Christina struggled to keep back the tears as she read. The last day of school was always hard, but she’d started Lupron injections a few days ago, and her hormones were going nuts. The students laughed at the funny rhymes and offered commentary, mostly using their reader questions to guide the discussion. Christina smiled in pride. At the first of the year, they hadn’t even known what reader questions were. Now they asked them without prodding.

  Twenty minutes later Christina closed the book, holding it in her lap. “I am going to miss each and every one of you,” she said. It was mostly true. There were one or two she definitely wouldn’t miss. “It has been a pleasure to teach you this year. I know you will do great things in the second grade.”

  “We’ll miss you too, Mrs. Vincent,” a little boy called from the back.

  “Yeah, you’re the bestest teacher ever,” another student agreed. “Can we come back and visit you?”

  A needle stabbed her heart. “Of course. I would love that.”

  Christina had officially renewed her contract last month and would be at Riverside Elementary School for at least another year. She loved her job, but wished she’d be home with a baby instead. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about the after-school program next year. She and Trista had been able to put aside their differences, and the district had granted funding. But Christina had declined co-chairing it again. Hopefully she would need the time for doctor appointments and baby shopping.

  The bell rang, and kids bustled around the classroom, gathering their backpacks and hugging Christina as they ran out the door. The noise level in the hallway grew, the excitement and energy of the students permeating every brick of the school.

  Christina looked around the room and laughed. Books and games littered the floor. In the excitement of summer, items had been forgotten. She walked over to t
he reading corner and picked a book off the floor. After thirty minutes of straightening, the noise in the hallway had died down to the eerie quiet of summer.

  “Are you as sad as I am?”

  Christina wasn’t surprised to see Stacey, watery-eyed and smiling. Christina picked up another book. “Yes. The last day is always hard.”

  Stacey waved a hand in front of her face. “This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t be sad. I’ll be back next year.”

  “You’ve decided to come back after having the baby?”

  “Yes. My mom’s going to watch her while I teach. We can’t do without the money.”

  “I’m sorry,” Christina said, and she really meant it. “I know you wanted to stay home.”

  “T.J. graduates in April. Maybe next year will be my last.”

  “Yeah.” Maybe it would be Christina’s, too.

  Stacey smiled, crouching down to help Christina pick up the books. “Maybe you’ll have a baby soon. And we can both quit and hang out together with our babies.” Stacey laughed. “T.J. says I need to find some ‘mom’ friends because my other friends won’t want to hang out with me once I pop. You’re not going to ignore me once I have this kid, are you? I swear I won’t become boring when I’m a mom. I would be so sad if you stopped talking to me because you’ve always helped me so much.”

  “I won’t ignore you. Promise.”

  Stacey wrapped her arms around Christina’s shoulders in an awkward side hug. Christina froze, feeling the tiny bulge of Stacey’s stomach press against her side. Stacey let Christina go, not seeming to notice she hadn’t returned the embrace. “I’m going to miss seeing you every day. Let’s get together this summer, okay?”

  Christina smiled at Stacey. Not a chance.

  It took another hour to straighten up the classroom, but soon Christina ran out of things to do. She looked around the room, then turned off the lights and shut the door. Summer vacation had officially begun.

  She was surprised to see Gary’s Lexus already in their garage when she arrived home.

  He waited inside, a glass of sparkling cider in one hand. “Surprise!”