Infinity.

by Layne Harper

  They give the first vial to Colin. It’s marked with a number one. I reach down and break off a piece of my rice cake and pop it in my mouth as Colin removes the lid. The musky, earthy scent of the cologne mixes with the aroma of marinara sauces, and then combines with the smell of the half-piece of grilled chicken breast still sitting in front of Colin.

  My stomach becomes sloshy, my mouth fills with too much saliva to swallow, and I break out in a cold sweat. I tear off another piece of rice cake, and say a silent prayer that I’ll not get sick. Colin dabs a tiny amount of the cologne on the cuff of his shirt, releasing more of the scent in the air, and bile rises from my stomach to my mouth.

  I push my chair back, and try to walk calmly out of the room. I know that I’m failing when I feel all seven sets of eyes track me towards the door.

  Colin announces to the room, “Excuse me for a moment.”

  I don’t wait for him to catch me. I can’t. I walk into his office and open his bathroom door as I begin to lose my stomach. The cold sweat is pouring off of me, and whatever has made me so sick is coming up violently. I can still smell the combination of scents lingering in my nose, which is making me sicker.

  Colin rushes to me. “Charlie, dear God, what’s wrong with you?” I can’t see him, but his baritone voice is cracking in fear.

  As he moves closer, so does the smell of the cologne. It makes me wretch even more violently. I try waving my hand back, hoping that he’ll leave.

  But he keeps coming, probably thinking that I’m just embarrassed that I’m sick in front of him. He’s got to get away from me. I can’t stop gagging until whatever smell is on him is gone.

  Finally, between stomach rolls, I’m able to get out, “Your smell is making me sick.”

  I’ve never been this ill before. This is a different kind of sick. It’s certainly not food poisoning. It’s almost as if I feel better that I’m vomiting, which makes absolutely no sense.

  I hear the rustle of Colin’s shirt being removed. He leaves the bathroom with it, and is blissfully gone for a few seconds. Immediately, my stomach begins to settle. I sag against the cold bathroom tiles, strangely feeling so much better.

  When he walks back into the tiny bathroom, Colin stares down at me like I have two heads. “Jesus Christ, what was that?” he asks after what feels like minutes of his scrutinizing glare.

  I feel weak, but not weak like I just vomited from a stomach bug. It’s more that my abs scream like they’ve gotten a good workout, but I feel the best I’ve felt since I got home from Cabo.

  “I don’t know,” I say shaking my head. “But I feel so much better. Maybe I got whatever has been plaguing me since Cabo out.”

  I tear off a piece of toilet paper and wipe my mouth. I flush the toilet, and as soon as Colin realizes that I’m trying to stand he rushes to my side, helping me to my feet. I push him off and take the two steps to the sink to rinse out my mouth. “Seriously, I feel fine. Give me a few minutes in here to freshen up. Go back to your meeting. Make my excuses for me. I’m going to head over to Doctor Starr’s a bit early.”

  “I’m going with you. You can’t drive.” I brace my hands on either side of the sink and look at his reflection in the mirror. His forehead is etched with worry lines, and his gorgeous full lips are turned down. His arms are crossed over his chest in a determined stance. He looks like a puffed-up bullfrog, and I almost laugh.

  “These people flew nine hours for this meeting with you. You aren’t going with me. She’s just going to do some blood work. That’s it. There will be plenty of appointments that you’re needed at,” I say looking down at his crotch in the mirror. “Besides, you’ll just be in the way.”

  He reaches out for my arm and spins me around, tilting my chin up so I can see into his blazing green eyes. “I don’t give a fuck they flew nine hours for this meeting. You’re what I care about. I. Want. To. Come,” he says.

  I place my hand on his chest and playfully push him back. “I’m fine. Now, go earn us some Lake Somerville house money. You know I’m going to want a Viking range.”

  This has become our joke. Since the architect asked for our wish list, I’ve been teasing Colin about all the expensive upgrades that I want. We even started a spare-change jar in the bathroom for my marble counters. Yes, Colin has made enough money that he can write a check for whatever we want for the house, but it takes away the fun of dreaming and working for it. I want to know that the marble counters we’ve saved for, and not from some arbitrary investment that Aiden made on Colin’s behalf.

  Dreaming of our vacation/getaway home has been a great distraction from our infertility. In fact, it’s almost been as good as Pancho.

  “We can’t afford it without this extra cologne money.” He smirks, thankfully allowing me to change the subject from being sick. “Promise you’ll call as soon as you’re out?”

  “Yes, Dad,” I reply, letting out a sigh.

  “You’ll text when you get there?” When he cocks his eyebrow up, it’s really not a question. It’s more of a forceful reminder.

  “Yes, Dad,” I say, folding my arms over my chest and rolling my eyes, playing the part of the bratty teenager. I turn back around to the sink to finish freshening up.

  He swats my behind as he walks out. “I take it you didn’t like number one,” he calls over his shoulder.

  “You think?” I reply. “Might want to leave the shirt at the office.”

  I hear his laugh as I turn on the water.

  ****

  This is not how it’s supposed to be. Colin and I made a pact that if I thought I was pregnant, we would take the test together. Instead, I’m sitting in a sterile, white examining room in a blue hospital-gown with diamond patterns on it, staring at a white stick.

  Doctor Starr must sense my anxiety, because she walks over and pats my back. “This is great news. Let’s hope that you’re pregnant, and you can just find a fun way to tell him.”

  I look up at her through blurry tear-filled eyes. “We’ve just been through so much this year. I wanted Colin to have this moment as validation for all of his hard work.”

  She smirks. “The hard part starts in nine months when the baby has colic, your nipples are raw and bleeding, and y’all haven’t slept in a week. Trust me, Caroline, Colin will have a lot more moments.”

  She can certainly put things in perspective, like Rachael. I know that she’s right, but I feel so guilty for not letting Colin come to this appointment, especially after he asked to attend.

  When the timer goes off, she looks at me. “Want me to do the honors?”

  “Please,” I reply as I wait for the news. I keep telling myself over and over there is no way I’m pregnant. I had a period. I HAD A PERIOD! The test is negative, and Colin and I’ll begin infertility treatments. You don’t have periods if you’re pregnant. Break through bleeding sure. But, not a period where you have to use products over multiple days.

  I watch her walk to the counter and look down at the stick. She turns back around and her eyes reveal the truth before her mouth does. I’m pregnant.

  The tears that I’ve been fighting to keep in check come pouring out. I must have gotten pregnant in the last couple of weeks. I can’t believe it. The realization hits me. I’m going to be a mom. Colin and I are going to be parents. Colin is going to be a daddy. Pancho will have a baby to play with. My parents and Colin’s parents will be grandparents. My sisters will be aunts. I leap to my feet and throw my arms around Doctor Starr. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

  She hugs me back and says, “Honey, I didn’t do anything. Seems like you and Colin did all the heavy lifting.”

  I laugh at her cute joke.

  “Now, we need to see how far along you are.” I crawl up on the exam table and wait for her questions. “When was your last period?”

  “Three weeks ago.” I reply.

  “That can’t be right. It’s too early to confirm a pregnancy with one of these sticks. Are you sure that your dates are right?” she s
ays, looking in my chart as if the answer is hiding there.

  “Trust me. I know exactly when I had that period,” I reply, now a bit concerned.

  “Here, let’s go do an ultrasound, and see if we can see anything.”

  I follow her out of the exam room and down the hall to the last door at the end, hoping that this gown is providing at least a degree of modesty. She knocks once, and then opens it. I lie down on the table as she dims the lights. She takes a seat on a bright-blue plastic rolling-stool.

  She flips on the monitor and grabs a wand, slipping a condom over it. She places a huge dollop of gel on it that she removed from a warming container.

  I put my feet in the stirrups like a good girl, spreading my knees. She slides the wand inside as I feel pressure expanding me.

  “Okay, Caroline. We might see your baby. We might not. Please don’t panic. This is just to see how far along you are,” she reassures me.

  “I understand.” I nod my head.

  I close my eyes, and pray that I’m newly pregnant. My alcohol-infused trip to Cabo cannot have happened with a life inside of me… can it? I finger my wedding ring, hoping for good news.

  “Open your eyes,” Doctor Starr instructs.

  I do as she asks, and roll my head to the side to see the monitor. There’s our baby, about the size of a bean. The grainy black and white image is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen. Tears roll down my cheeks as I clasp my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God, that’s my baby,” I gasp.

  “Do you see that tiny flicker?” Doctor Starr says, pointing to something on the screen that looks almost like a buzzing mosquito. “That’s your baby’s very strong heartbeat.”

  She does some measurements while I lay there in awe, staring at what Colin and I made together out of love. It’s hard to comprehend the tiny little being on the screen is growing inside of me. I didn’t even know that it was there thirty minutes ago, but I love him or her with everything in my soul.

  Doctor Starr breaks into my love-fest. “Well, from the size and the heartbeat, I’d say that you’re about seven weeks along. So that would put your due date at,” she says turning a dial on a circular card, “around February 27.”

  Panic overwhelms me. “Doctor Starr, I just got back from Cabo, and drank half a bottle of tequila in one night. I had a period, so I didn’t think I was pregnant,” I begin to explain. The feeling of plain terror is more intense than I’ve ever experienced before. What if my drinking has hurt our baby?

  She cuts me off with a raised hand. “You and every other pregnant lady. It’s not ideal, but you’re fine. The baby’s obviously okay. Worry about how you’re going to tell Colin that he’s going to be a daddy.”

  “But I don’t understand. I had a period. Like, I used tampons,” I start again. I can’t stop myself. I feel she needs all the facts.

  “Some women still have a light period their first month of pregnancy. You saw your healthy baby, Caroline. You’re going to be a mom.” She smiles down at me while I lie on the table, feeling completely helpless.

  I repeat it. “I’m going to be a mom.” Saying it out loud seems to make it more real. I repeat it again, feeling a smile that meets my eyes. “I’m going to be a mom.”

  As I make my way out of Dr. Starr’s office, still numb from all that has transpired in the past few minutes, I notice the children’s boutique on the first floor of her building, and make a split second decision to enter into the world of everything baby. It’s hard to believe that the little bean growing inside of me will one day be wearing one of these newborn, footed sleepers. I choose a neutral color just so I can show Colin how small our baby will be. When I place my purchase on the counter, I spy a pair of Nike newborn-sized tennis shoes displayed by the cash register. A stroke of genius hits me, and I know exactly how I’m going tell Colin that he’s going to be a daddy. I almost squeal I’m so excited.

  The lady checking me out has a kind, grandmotherly face. She smiles knowingly at me as she hands me my purchases and says, “Congratulations.” I can feel my perma-grin cracking my cheeks. This is a new kind of happiness that I’ve never experienced before. I’ll be able to add “mommy” to my list of titles.

  On my way home, I send this baby’s daddy a text.

  Me: When will you be home?

  Colin: Whenever you need me. Feeling okay?

  Me: Okay. Are you working out after your meetings?

  Colin: Not sure.

  Me: Do you mind running with me this evening?

  Colin: Sure. I can probably think of other ways to work you out.

  Me: Mind out of the gutter.

  Colin: Never! Be home in an hour.

  When I arrive home, the first order of business is to let Pancho out of his kennel. He’s been such a Destructicon, as Colin calls him, lately, that he must be kenneled when no one can watch him. Just last week, he chewed the handle off of Chef’s Coach leather messenger bag. That cost us eight-hundred dollars.

  Pancho howls when he sees me head toward his kennel that we keep in the laundry room. I open the door and kneel down, bracing myself for his greeting kisses. He wiggles so much that it’s surprising his front half doesn’t separate from his back. I scratch behind his ears, and kiss his head.

  “Guess what, big boy? Mommy has a secret for you. You’re the first to know. You’re going to be a big brother.”

  It feels so good to say those words out loud. Pancho says congratulations by bathing my face with licks. I open the back door, depositing Pancho outside so he can take care of his business.

  Next, I walk into the kitchen. Thank goodness whatever Chef prepared for dinner doesn’t smell disgusting. There’s a pile of mail on the granite countertop, but I ignore it. I want to make sure that everything is perfect for telling Colin our great news before I start mundane chores.

  Carrying my new purchases into the bathroom, I head straight for Colin’s closet. His running shoes are in their usual spot, neatly placed on the floor under his hanging workout shirts. I slip the tiny pair of Nikes out of the boutique shopping bag, and place them next to Colin’s custom-made Nike shoes. In some wonderful twist of fate, they actually match. Colin’s are only twenty times larger. I take out my phone and snap a picture, for posterity’s sake. Then, I clap like a fool so excited at how this turned out. It’s the perfect way to share our news.

  Next, I remove the ultrasound pictures from my purse and instantly become transfixed. Sinking to the floor of my husband’s closet, I take a breath to absorb the enormity of the moment. The positive pregnancy test changes everything about my life. My body has been hijacked by Mother Nature. I can’t control my weight, or the size of my breasts. My abdomen will expand without anyone asking me if it has my permission.

  I think back to my earlier nausea. What if I get sick in surgery? What does being pregnant mean to my career? What does a baby mean to my future? Did I go to Harvard to practice medicine for only four short years? Is Rachael right? Have I shoveled shit to get where I am just to give it up for mommy-hood?

  I lie back on the soft carpet and close my eyes, blocking out the harsh florescent lighting. Colin’s body scent is strongest in his closet, and thankfully, it doesn’t make me feel bad, even though there’s a hint of his cologne. Smelling my husband tethers me back to reality, and away from the tornado of emotions whipping over me.

  Being pregnant is my new normal. Worrying about our little bean thriving inside of me will become a part of my everyday routine, like brushing my teeth. One day, I’ll forget what it felt like to only be concerned about me. In that moment, I wish that I could rewind time one month, knowing that I was about to conceive a child. I would spend that last month being so much more carefree. Maybe Colin and I would do something risky, like travel the Amazon River, or go skydiving. I would definitely wear a bikini one more time in public. However, what I think that I would do the most with my borrowed time is just spend hours upon hours basking in Colin’s attention, enjoying being the center of his universe.

 
In about thirty minutes, my life is going to change forever. Once Colin knows about the baby, he’s going to be even more neurotic than he usually is about me. There are going to be battles at every corner. He’ll probably fight me on running every morning, even though Doctor Starr said it was fine. His anxieties over my safety will go through the roof. Every bite of food that goes in my mouth will be scrutinized. Will he be afraid to make love to me? God, I hope not.

  I don’t doubt that he’s going to shower me with attention and care, but it will be about the baby also. I let out a sigh, and place both hands over my pubic bone. Yes. I would give anything for just one more month not being pregnant, but with the future knowledge that we would conceive soon.

  I have my first conversation with this kid. “Your daddy is going to drive Mommy crazy. You’ll probably hear some arguing, but it doesn’t mean that we don’t love each other. It just means that sometimes we love each other a little too loudly. Now, be a good baby, and don’t make me sick again. That’s the surest way possible to get Daddy riled up. We’ve got to be a team here,” I say, rubbing my hand over my lower abdomen. “And right now, you’re on my team. We’re calling ourselves Team Collins, but don’t tell Daddy.”

  I make a note to talk to Doctor Benson, my therapist, about these out-of-control feelings. I know from all of my therapy that pregnancy is a big trigger for my disease. Submitting oneself to nature is very hard when control is my weapon of choice in the battle against my eating disorder.

  Before my thoughts have fully played out, Pancho comes barreling into Colin’s closet, finding me and alerting Colin with a yelp. Oh no! Daddy’s home early. I scramble to pull myself together, and tuck the pictures into my bra that’s still feeling rather constrictive.

  Colin comes sauntering into his closet seconds later, raising his eyebrow at finding me sitting on the carpeted floor. Fortunately, he changed shirts, so he doesn’t stink like that horrible cologne. He gives me his best “What the fuck?” look. I usually get this look when Brad and I’ve just come up with the best idea ever. “Any particular reason you’re sitting on the floor of my closet?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow.