by Kira Blakely
“Fine.” I sit back.
The truth is I’ve been curious about what’s going on with my body too. I’m thinking it’s just stress but what if it’s something more? What if I have some rare disease? Or what if I have cancer like my mother? It’s not just the vomiting, after all. I’ve been feeling more tired than usual, too, and my breasts seem tender.
I push away the thought, inwardly shaking my head. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.
Please let it be nothing serious.
* * *
“This is serious,” Dr. Janet Liu says as she looks at the papers on her desk, the results of my tests from the past hour.
I hold my breath, gripping Dash’s hand that’s on my thigh tighter.
What? What is wrong with me?
“Seriously amazing,” Dr. Liu says as she puts her hands on top of the papers, smiling.
My eyebrows furrow. What?
“Congratulations! You are pregnant, Mrs. Siegel,” she announces with a wider smile. “You and your husband are having a baby.”
Both my hands go over my mouth as I gasp.
“Are you serious?” Dash asks the question I’ve been thinking.
“Yes, I am.” Dr. Liu hands him the papers on her desk. “Your wife is close to five weeks pregnant.”
Five weeks?
Dash goes through the papers, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“This is amazing news.” Then he turns to me, hugging me. “Did you hear that? We’re having a baby!”
I just nod, my vocal chords not functioning yet, probably because my heart is doing somersaults in my chest, which has transformed into a balloon of joy, and my veins are buzzing with excitement.
I’m having a baby.
“That would naturally explain why you’re feeling nauseous and tired,” Dr. Liu says, sitting back in her chair. “You’re experiencing morning sickness and I’m sorry to tell you but you might experience it for a few more weeks.”
“It’s okay,” I say, finally managing to speak.
I don’t care. In fact, right now, nothing else matters but the baby that’s growing inside me. Not my fake marriage or the fact that I am now a CEO’s wife. I’m not even worried about my mother right now. I can’t experience anything but this ocean of joy.
I may have embarked on this road for Mom, but now that I’m pregnant, I realize it’s what I’ve been wanting. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Mom was right. No one can quite complete your life like a child.
I place my hand over my belly, tears of pure joy leaking out of my eyes.
I’m going to be a mother.
15
Dash
A father.
I pause after getting out of the car at the
Congressional Country Club, catching a glimpse of a father and his son playing golf in the distance.
I’m going to be a father.
I’m thrilled, of course. This is what Janine and I wanted, what will make sure I get my inheritance and make Janine’s mother happy. This is why we agreed to sign a contract in the first place. But I still can’t believe that I got her pregnant this soon and without IVF, just through the same old, enjoy- able means of making children.
It almost seems like a miracle.
Going inside with my leather laptop briefcase in hand, my shoes softly squeaking across the gleaming wooden floor, I think of the baby in Janine’s tummy. Will it be a boy I’ll play baseball and whittle with or a girl that I’ll carry on my shoulders and dance with?
A girl. Suddenly, Sara’s face comes to mind, smiling, eyes full of hope.
I frown, running my hand through my hair.
No. My child will not share the same fate as Sara’s. In fact, I will do my best so that no child will end up with the same fate.
That is why I’m here today.
Outside the arched entrance to one of the lounges I pause, making sure my tie is in place and running a hand through the front of my suit. Then after taking a deep breath, I proceed inside, going to the table in the corner where I can see Senator Cartwright, a man in his fifties with balding, gray hair and a beard, and Benny, one of the older shareholders of the company, seated.
“Dash.” Benny greets as he sees me approaching. “Benny.” I shake his hand before turning to the other man. “Senator.”
He simply nods, putting down his newspaper.
I pull a chair, set my briefcase right beside it and sit down, unbuttoning my coat.
“Thank you both for agreeing to meet me. I’m sure you’re both very busy men.”
“Well, you struck me as a promising man at the party,” Senator Cartwright says as he sits back, scratching his chin. “And my old friend, Benny here tells me you’re the new CEO of SBSI.”
“I am,” I acknowledge.
“Besides, I do have a soft spot for Marines, especially war heroes,” he adds.
“That is exactly why I wanted to talk to you.”
I take out two sets of documents, handing one to the senator and the other to Benny.
“I know SBSI specializes in security systems for buildings and vehicles but I was wondering if we could expand that to include defensive technology that military personnel could use or wear to protect themselves during battle.”
“But they already have armor,” Benny says, going through the document.
“Yes. But armor is protection, not defense,” I point out, sitting back in my chair. “Soldiers need more than armor to protect themselves, to protect those they should protect.”
“I agree completely.” Senator Cartwright sets the document down on the table.
“Are you suggesting that we incorporate weapons into armor?” Benny asks, the document still on his lap.
“Yes,” I tell him, tapping my fingers on the arm of the chair. “And speaking of weapons, I think that we should expand into that field as well. We have the technology. We have engineers. We have some of the materials.” I lean forward. “Like they say, offense is the best defense.”
“I can’t say you’re not thinking along the right lines,” Benny says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “But this is a major undertaking.”
“Which is why I need your support,” I tell him, turning my body towards him. “Which is why I need you to help me get the support of the others.”
Benny touches his chin. “Even if we approve of this, where will we get the funds for such major expansions?”
I turn to the senator, placing one of my hands on the table on top of the document. “I would like to ask for your help in funding this endeavor. These ideas – the personal defense system and the weapons – will greatly benefit our soldiers. In fact, I plan to make the military our biggest client.”
“I understand why.” Senator Cartwright strokes his beard. “But you have to deliver prototypes if you want funding. If you can manage that, I guarantee you will have my support.”
“Thank you, Senator.” I nod. “That is all I ask.” I sit back, straightening the edges of my coat.
“So you want to open a research and development facility for these ideas of yours?” Benny asks, propping his elbow on his leg, which is crossed over the other.
“Yes,” I tell him, putting my hands together at my waist. “That is what I would like to do.”
“We’ll need investors,” Benny says.
I stretch my fingers. “I have a few friends who may be interested.”
Senator Cartwright chuckles. “It seems you already have everything figured out. I was right to show interest in you.”
“Thank you, Senator.” I place my clasped hands on the table. “On the contrary, I still have a lot to figure out but I am hoping that I will, and that these plans will truly come to fruition.”
“I’ll support you,” Benny says, placing his document on the table as well. “I’ve been wanting to see some major changes in the company for a while now.”
“You have?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Your father wasn’t a big fan of change,” he
recalls, folding his arms across his chest. “He liked new products, yes, and new technology, but he wasn’t much for expansions or acquisitions or partnerships. He didn’t like taking big risks or getting too many people involved.”
I nod, scratching my chin. “I remember that.”
“Billy was just like him,” Benny adds. “But I’m glad you’re different. I have a feeling SBSI is truly and finally stepping into the future. And I have a feeling the others will think the same way.”
I smile. “Thank you. You don’t know how much those words mean to me.”
“You’re very brave, son.” Senator Cartwright sits up. “Well, then again, you’re a soldier.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He puts his hands on the arms of his chair and stands up. “Well, Benny, now that we’re through here, how about that round of golf?”
“Sure.” Benny stands up as well. “I’d invite you, Dash, but I’m afraid the senator and I have a long-standing private bet.”
“No problem.” I stand up, putting my hands in my pocket. “I appreciate your time. Besides, I do have other things to do.”
The senator pats me on the shoulder. “Take care.” Benny simply squeezes the other without a word.
I watch them leave the room then sit down, ordering a cup of coffee before taking out my laptop and setting it in front of me. It’s such a nice, quiet lounge that I might as well get some work done here before returning to the office.
As I wait for my coffee and my laptop to boot, I sit back and look around the room, not having had the chance to do that before. It’s a magnificent room, the wooden bars across the ceiling bathed in the soft, golden glow of the round chandeliers lending it a touch of coziness and elegance. Someday, I want to own a cabin with just the same ambience, a home away from home.
Home.
I wonder if Janine has decided whether or not to move into the mansion yet, as my mother suggested.
“Your coffee, sir.”
The waiter sets down my cup of coffee beside my laptop, turning the saucer the right way before putting the teaspoon on the side and then placing the jar of condiments and the tiny pitcher of milk right beside it.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
I lean forward to prepare my coffee and this time, my thoughts turn to my father. I’m sure he’s been in this exact room before, maybe in this exact chair having a cup of coffee just like this one. I can almost imagine him sitting across the room, reading the newspaper on a lazy morning.
Just as I can’t believe I’m going to have a child, I still can’t believe that I’m already in my father’s shoes.
I hope I can make him proud.
I stir my coffee, take a sip of it just to make sure I’ve put enough sugar, no milk, and put it back on the saucer so that I can start working, immersing myself in checking my emails and reading documents for the next hour.
When I’m done, I turn my laptop off. As I’m putting it away, I see a familiar face walk into the room.
“Dash!” Marissa starts running towards me, heels clacking on the wooden floor and arms outstretched.
I frown. Is she stalking me? Because it can’t be a coincidence that lately she’s been almost everywhere I go.
“Let me guess.” I close the lid of my laptop. “Your husband is a member of this club, too.”
She ignores me.
“I’m so surprised to see you here!” She puts her arms around me then sits in the chair beside me. “And you’re all alone, too, which is perfect.”
“Actually, I was meeting a few people for business,” I tell her as I smooth the front of my coat.
“I heard you’re the CEO now. I am so proud of you!” She pinches my cheek lightly.
I put my laptop inside its case. “And I’m about to leave.”
“Already?” She pouts, looking like she’s about to cry. “But I just got here.”
“Aren’t you with your husband?” I ask her, zipping my laptop case.
“He’s playing tennis,” Marissa informs me, placing a hand against her cheek. “I don’t like tennis. You know I don’t like getting sweaty—unless it’s really, really worth it.”
She touches my arm and I pull it away, putting my laptop inside my briefcase.
“How’s Janine?” she asks, leaning on the arm of her chair. “Still sick? The poor girl. She must be allergic to crowds or maybe to rich people.”
“Janine was sick because she’s pregnant,” I tell her, putting my briefcase on my lap so I can close it.
The color drains from Marissa’s face. “No.” I look at her with creased eyebrows.
“I mean congratulations,” Marissa says quickly, her smile back on. “Wow. That was quick.”
She sits back, stroking the tips of her hair. Then she slaps my shoulder, giving me a mischievous grin.
“Dash, you’re still such a beast.”
I frown, standing up with my briefcase in hand. Marissa grabs my wrist. “How far along is she?” “Six weeks,” I answer.
“I see.” She touches her chin. “Then her pregnancy must still be very delicate.”
“She’s in perfect health,” I inform. “I mean apart from the morning sickness, which will pass.”
“She is?” She looks at me with wide eyes. “I mean it’s good that she’s not experiencing any complications like so many women do. Still, she needs to take good care of herself. Is she all alone at the apartment? I could probably help keep an eye on her. I’m sure she needs a friend right now more than ever.”
“Thank you but that’s not necessary.” I push the chair back under the table.
Not to mention Marissa is the last person Janine would want to be friends with.
She stands up. “But it’s not good for her to be alone.” “She won’t be alone much longer.” I tap my fingers on the back of the chair. “Mother asked us to move into the mansion.”
“Oh. How lucky.”
“Bye, Marissa.” I slip my hand in my pocket and start to walk off.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t call after me, sinking into her chair.
Maybe now that Marissa knows Janine is pregnant, she’ll finally come to her senses and give up on me.
16
Janine
“I give up, Mom.” I raise my hands in surrender. “I don’t know what that movie is.”
We’re playing a little game of ‘Guess the Picture’ featuring movies related to pregnancy or songs with the word ‘baby’ in the title.
“It’s Grease,” Mom says, putting the whiteboard down on the table. “See how I drew that dancing shack and the drive- in movie and the shakes?”
I pick up the whiteboard, getting it now. “You could have just drawn hair and a car.”
She sits back. “That would have been too easy.”
I put the board down, erasing the pictures. “And how is Grease a movie about pregnancy exactly? As far as I remember, it’s all about horny high school kids.”
“And what happens to horny high school kids, huh?” Mom grabs a pistachio from the bowl between us, peeling it and popping it into her mouth.
I crease my eyebrows. “No one got pregnant, though.”
“Rizzo thought she was.” She throws the pistachio shell into another bowl.
I touch my chin, remembering. “But she wasn’t.” “But she thought she was.”
I sigh. “Fine. You win.” She smiles.
As I eat a pistachio, I look at her from across the table, trying not to frown at the rings under her eyes, which seem to have increased, or how her cheeks seem to have lost even more color.
Well, at least, she’s well taken care of here, the room spacious and peaceful, if not cheerful, with all the butter- flies on the wall, the colorful carpet, and the bed of fresh flowers outside the window. The staff is friendly too. They all look professional and they each have smiles on their faces.
“How’s your appetite?” my mother asks, getting another pistachio. “Any cravings?”
“Not for food,” I te
ll her, getting up and walking towards the window. “I just want to sleep all the time.”
“Well, you do need your rest. Trust me, once you’re a mother, you won’t get a single good night’s sleep ever again, really. You think once your baby doesn’t need to feed in the middle of the night, you can finally get some sleep, but no. You have to worry about them for the rest of your life now.”
I look at her, brushing some strands of hair that have been blown by the breeze off my face. “Don’t scare me, Mom.”
She lifts her hands. “I’m not scaring you. I’m just preparing you.”
I go to her, grinning as I place my hands on her shoulders. “I know you are. But trust me, you’ve prepared me for this just by being a good mother to me.”
“Now, don’t make me cry.” She places a hand over mine. “Well, you saw the good mother but didn’t you see the sleep- less mother, the almost insane mother, the mother who could barely take showers, the mother who—”
“Mom, I get the picture.” I go over to the bed, sitting on its edge and leaning back on my arms. “I’m well aware that being a mother is going to be hard.”
She turns her wheelchair so that she’s facing me. “Hard doesn’t even describe it.”
“I know.” I sit up. “But I’ll be fine. You taught me to be strong, to treasure every moment, to cling to what’s good, to look on the bright side, to find happiness in the small things.”
I reach for her hand as she stops in front of me. “I’ll be fine, Mom.”
She squeezes my hand, smiling at me. “I know.” I nod, returning her smile.
I won’t think of her being gone, of her not being around. I will treasure this moment, a rare moment between mothers, and I will take all the strength and joy from it.
And I can tell from her sad smile, her upright, thin shoulders and that moving lump in her throat that I’m not the only one.
“Are you still experiencing morning sickness?” she asks. “More like midnight sickness.” I lean back. “But yeah, every once in a while.”
She puts her hands on her lap. “It will go on until the second trimester.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “That’s what the doctor said.”