Baby Doll(9)

“Wes, it’s Eve. Lily came home. You have to go to Abby’s. The police are on their way to her, but you need to tell her that her sister is back. It has to be you.”

“Eve, what are you talking about? What do you mean she’s home? She’s… I—”

“I don’t have time for questions, Wes. Go get Abby!”

Eve hung up the phone and hurried back into the living room, where she returned to her spot on the floor beside Lily and Sky. She wrapped her arms around her daughter, rocking her like she had when she was a baby.

“Hold on, Lil. I’m here. Your mom has you and I’m never letting you go.”





CHAPTER SEVEN


ABBY


Abby fumbled in the dark for her phone. She never turned it off. Never let it out of her sight. She always believed that one day she’d get a call with news about her sister. It’s what kept her going. She frowned at the sight of Wes’s name on her caller ID. Abby quickly silenced the ringer.

What the f*ck was wrong with him? It was five o’clock in the morning. What did he not understand about needing space? Abby swallowed hard, closing her eyes tightly as she pressed one thumb to one pinky and slowly counted to ten. One of her shrinks had suggested this stupid exercise. She’d never admit it to him, he was a smug * with a God complex, but the trick worked. When the panic overwhelmed her, it was a lifesaver. She ignored the voice mail icon when it appeared, and sat up in bed. If she were smart, she’d go back to sleep before her shift at the hospital started. But Abby was too annoyed. She’d never sleep now. It was pointless to even try.

She wasn’t entirely comfortable living alone. She’d found the silence since Wes moved out more unsettling than she’d anticipated. But it was her choice. She’d wanted him to go. She’d demanded it. And for the most part, she was glad that she was by herself, that she didn’t have to try so hard. There was no pointless chatter about work or politics or any of the other mindless bullshit that fills the spaces when there’s nothing else to say. She didn’t have to make excuses about why she had two breakfasts, or why she stayed in bed until two o’clock on her day off. No, for her this was the only option. She was free to make her own choices, good or bad.

Abby got out of bed and grabbed her gray terrycloth robe off the back of the door. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full-length mirror and grimaced in disgust. Fat, round face, belly swollen to an unnatural size. One moment she’d been thin and sexy, the kind of girl that turned heads, and the next, she was this… this pig.

Whoever said pregnancy was a gift was a goddamn liar. Abby’s body was being held hostage by this alien invader, and she despised each and every change. She kept imagining Mom’s horror, or Wes’s for that matter, if they knew her true feelings about this pregnancy.

The worst part: The entire world wanted her to be over the moon about this new life she had created. No matter where she went—work, the grocery store, the dry cleaner’s—someone wanted to touch her belly and ooh and aah over each freaking burp, fart, and weight change. Abby didn’t get it. Almost anyone with a uterus could pop out a kid. Thirteen-year-olds in the Ozarks. Strung-out junkies. Prison inmates. She wanted to tell them all how stupid they were. Pregnancy wasn’t a blessing or a miracle. Getting knocked up was a result of reckless behavior and a major lapse in judgment. Even if you wanted a baby, bad things were bound to happen. Abby knew that firsthand.

She made her way into the kitchen, flipping on the lights as she went. She stopped, gripped by the incredible urge to have a drink. Five months and twelve days since her last drink, and it still happened all the time. In the middle of washing dishes or taking a patient’s temperature, walking to her car… Some days she’d think about leaving work and hauling ass to the first liquor store she passed. Other times, she’d drive by Costco and pull into the parking lot, imagining herself walking in and loading her cart with enough booze to numb herself for days. But this town was so small someone would be on the phone to Wes or her mother before Abby ever cleared the checkout. So she shook off the feeling. If she couldn’t drink, she might as well eat.

She opened the fridge and stared at the vast array of options. Mom insisted on doing her shopping now, as if Abby were some kind of invalid. It was like a goddamn Whole Foods exploded in her fridge. Baby carrots, hummus, cold cuts, fresh fruit. But she wasn’t in the mood for any of that. Instead she grabbed the chocolate crème pie she’d bought at the market after her shift the previous night. She’d promised herself she would take it to work and share with the girls, but Abby knew deep down that was never going to happen. This was the other reason she’d given Wes the boot. He’d find it unacceptable, eating chocolate pie first thing in the morning. She considered warming up a slice, topping it with ice cream, whipped cream, and fresh strawberries—see Wes, see Mom, I’m eating fruit—but she decided to hell with it and dug in, eating straight out of the plastic container.

From the other room, she heard her cell phone ringing. Wes again. It had to be…

No, this was why she’d ended things. The baby wasn’t even born, and Wes was suffocating her. A few weeks ago, things had come to a head.

“You should let me do that.”

She’d glanced down at the basket of laundry she was carrying.

“What? You’re joking, right? It’s not heavy.”