Can't Look Away(9)
“Yes. I’ve heard excellent things.”
“She’s the best. You’ll be in good hands.” Molly manages a smile, and something about the expression on Sabrina’s face—so expectant, so open—makes her want to say more. “It’s … not easy. I get it. Believe me.”
The woman to Molly’s left glances up from Good Housekeeping and shoots them a pointed look, a silent order to please shut the hell up.
Just use your words, Molly thinks of the woman, observing yet again how no one in this town ever says what they mean—it’s all fluff and insincerity and passive aggression.
Sabrina presses her lips together and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Maybe we could … get together sometime? I don’t know many people in Flynn Cove. I don’t know anyone, really.” She looks at Molly hopefully, and Molly is struck again by her candor, a quality that reminds her of Nina and Everly, one that feels glaringly absent in the Meredith Duffys and Edie Kirkpatricks of Flynn Cove.
The door at the far end of the waiting room swings open, and a nurse steps through, squinting at her clipboard. “Molly O’Neil.”
“I’d love that,” Molly says impulsively, gathering her jacket and MZ Wallace tote. “Let me give you my number real quick.”
She taps her cell into Sabrina’s phone and stands, her insides twisting as she remembers what’s about to happen. “Good to see you again. And good luck today.”
“You, too,” Sabrina replies, and her smile reveals those sparkling white teeth. “I’ll text you, and we’ll get something on the calendar.”
The blood test is routine and quick; a needle prick on the inside of Molly’s elbow. Five minutes later, she is told she can leave and that Dr. Ricci will call her with the results in a few hours. Molly wonders if she’ll see Sabrina again in the waiting room, but she is already gone.
At home, she sits on the couch and waits for her phone to ring. Hunter has sent a bouquet of white roses—Molly’s favorite—which she’s placed in a glass vase on one of the side tables. She looks around the living room and admires it, her favorite room in the house. She loves the high ceilings, the stained wood beams that Hunter sanded himself before they moved in. There are huge windows that fill two opposite walls, drenching the space in constant light.
Molly is grateful that Stella is at school; she loves her daughter with her whole heart, but she couldn’t wait for the news with her here, bouncing around the house and asking her endearing but endless questions.
Mommy, how can fish breathe underwater?
Mommy, what did I do when I was in your tummy? Wasn’t I bored?
Mommy, what does “several” mean?
Molly crosses her legs and looks at her watch—it’s been over an hour now—and runs through a mental list of people she could call to pass the time. Nina. Everly. Her mother. Hunter. They’re all at work but will pick up if she calls, she knows. But she doesn’t really want to talk to anybody. She wants these minutes to herself, to wallow in the thin, shrinking space between hope and despair. IVF has failed so many times. Thousands and thousands of dollars down the drain; so much money she’ll lose her mind if she really thinks about it. But this is how it goes for some, she’s heard, she’s read. It fails and fails, until finally it doesn’t. This is the time it will work. This is the time it will work.
Molly leans back into the couch pillows and visualizes the space below her belly button, concentrates to see if she can sense a fledgling life there. Could she sense it with Stella this early on? She can’t remember. In all honesty, it feels like a lifetime ago.
The golden light is strong streaming through the windows, almost too bright. Molly doesn’t know how long she sits there, or how much time passes before her phone rings. But there it is, buzzing on the coffee table that Hunter built from a beautiful piece of black walnut, and Molly’s fingers are sweaty as she swipes to answer it, her gut roiling.
“Hi, Molly.” Dr. Ricci’s voice is neutral and betrays nothing. “I have your results from this morning’s bloodwork.” Deep breath in. “I’m so sorry…”
But Molly doesn’t hear the rest. She feels the phone slip in her hand; she feels her body freeze with shock; she feels the promise of all the tears she’ll cry for the rest of the day and night, wrenching sobs that’ll keep her from sleep. Another crack splits through her heart, deeper this time.
Chapter Six
Sabrina
You seem sad walking into Dr. Ricci’s office. I’ve watched several other women enter the building before you, and they’ve all got a bit of hope in their stride. Not you.
Your blond hair is parted in the middle and runs in long, loose waves down your back. You’ve never taken the plunge and cut it short, have you? It might look good that way. Something fresh. A welcome change. But maybe there’s a part of you that’s stuck in the past. How could there not be?
You’re hunched slightly; your head is bowed so it’s hard to get a glimpse of your face. You’re a woman who’s lost something. It’s not detectable to everyone, but I see it. Believe me, I am someone who knows sorrow, too. I am someone who knows loss.
Your expression changes when I approach you inside the waiting room. Your eyebrows jump and your jaw drops slightly, and I can tell you don’t remember me. I remind you, and the corners of your mouth lift. I wonder if you’re being polite or if you’re genuinely glad to see me again—if I had to guess, I’d say the latter. We hit it off at Yoga Tree; it wasn’t an illusion.