A Life More Complete(109)
The screen comes to life and the tech tucks a paper napkin into the front of my pants before splattering my belly with warm gel. She smears the gel around with the paddle before beginning. Her tone is less annoyed when she asks me if I want to know the sex of the baby.
“No. I’d like it to be a surprise,” I say, yet part of me feels I need a small amount of news that would cheer me up but I stick with my original plan.
She flips a switch and there in front of me is my baby. My little nugget is floating around content and sucking his or her thumb.
“There’s your baby,” she says with a small smile on her face. I was able to hear my baby’s heartbeat on the Doppler starting at eight weeks, but nothing compares to being able to see this life I created come alive on a screen. I felt Nugget move for the first time around fifteen weeks and it’s something I long to feel throughout my day. It’s like a small surprise that makes me stop and smile no matter where I am or what I’m doing. This whole process has been surreal, yet eye opening. I can’t even fathom that there are people, including my mother, who didn’t feel an instant connection to the life that was growing inside of them.
As the tech goes through the usual procedural measurements and pictures, I’m mesmerized. As much as I wish that Tyler had gotten his shit together to be here with me I know he’d have ruined this moment.
The tech prints me a series of pictures labeled with small arrows indicating body parts and cute little phrases. I thank her and rush back to the office to share my pictures with Melinda.
Things with Melinda have gotten better. Not normal, but better. It’s nearly impossible to avoid someone for an extended period of time when they’re always around. Showing up at work and having to see her made the forgiveness simpler. Saying good morning, talking to clients at meetings, attending functions together helped break the ice and eventually I forgave her for her temporary bout with dementia. That’s what she called it. But she did admit it was based more on her need to find someone of substance. She opened up to me one night after a work dinner.
“I only attract the cream of the crop,” she said. “The best of the worst is more like it. Losers who want to have sex and run. For a long time that’s what I wanted, but I really want something more.”
“You’ll find it. Don’t rush it. Trust me, it can turn ugly real fast.”
“It’s hard not to rush, but I think the bigger problem lies in the fact that no one dates the girl who lives off her father’s money. Who wants to marry that girl? I don’t even pay my own rent. Imagine admitting that to a guy you’re dating. Talk about an immediate bail.”
“Then stop,” I say, knowing it’s easier said than done.
“I wish I could. I’m not like you. This has always been my life. I’m so far from independent. You know I went on a couple of dates with that guy, Noah, the bartender. It was going really well and then I bailed on him. Snuck out of his house after his damn oscillating fan stood mocking me in the corner of the room. It was like it was saying that I wasn’t even good enough for a bartender.”
“You’re too hard on yourself. It’ll happen. Be patient.”
I understand what drives Melinda, which is what led me to forgive her. There was a time when I was so desperate to be connected to someone. I let it take control and it really didn’t matter who it was. Her need to be close to someone isn’t all that uncommon. I’ve been there and not much has changed now.
I barrel through her office door and find her grinning. Perfect white teeth in a Farah Fawcett style smile waiting for me.
“Let me see them!” she shouts from her desk chair. I toss the pictures at her. “Tell me you found out the sex. I’m dying. No self control whatsoever!”
I’m beaming from ear to ear fueled even more by her enthusiasm. “Nope. Sorry sister, you’re just gonna have to wait. Baby will still be known as Nugget.”
She shakes her head at me. Sliding the pictures through her fingers she squeals when she comes across the one of Nugget doing the thumb sucking.
“Did Tyler show up?” she asks full well knowing the answer.
“No.”
“Asshole,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.
“No, really it’s fine. He would’ve just ruined the moment anyway. His interest in the whole thing is practically zero. Who am I kidding, it is zero.”
“Why do you let him off so easily? You hold everyone in your life to impeccably high standards including yourself, but for some reason he gets to slip by without any accountability for his actions? It doesn’t make any sense.” She takes a deep breath and I know she isn’t finished with her on-going rant. All I can do is nod in response. I’m weak, but the sad thing is, I’m not. I’m only weak when it comes to Tyler.