Somewhere Out There(24)
“Thanks,” Brooke said. Jill might have been young, but at least she was kind.
Brooke spent the next twenty minutes filling out the forms that described the procedure and then signed them to give her consent. She also read the detailed aftercare instructions, relieved to note that if she opted not to have the sedative, she should be okay to drive home. She wouldn’t even have to call in sick to work that night, if all went well. She’d pop some Advil and pretend the whole thing never happened.
She tried to relax the tight knot that had settled beneath her sternum with controlled breaths, only to have it spring claws and dig in deeper. She’d be fine, she thought, mentally repeating what Jill had said. It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d made it this far on her own. She’d make it through this, too.
As promised, Jill returned to her office and then led Brooke down a long, well-lit hall to an exam room. She put her hand on Brooke’s arm and gave it a short squeeze. “Feel free to give us a call any time, after,” she said. “We’re here to help.”
Brooke nodded as she bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough to taste a coppery drop of blood. After Jill left and she was alone, Brooke changed into a gown and sat on the edge of the exam table, her bare legs swinging. A woman came to take her blood, and after she had left, another woman entered and introduced herself as the ultrasound technician. She was significantly older than Brooke, a little top-heavy, wore no makeup, and her gray hair was cut in a sensible, short bob.
“I’m Linda,” the woman said in the crackling voice of a heavy-duty smoker. She confirmed Brooke’s name and date of birth. “This won’t take long. Can you lie back, with your head on the pillow, please?”
“Why do I need an ultrasound?” Brooke asked, as she complied with Linda’s request. “If I’m just . . . if I’m not . . .” She clamped her lips together, unable to finish the sentence.
Linda stood next to her and placed a reassuring hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “We need to confirm the gestational age,” she said. “Make sure everything’s where it’s supposed to be, and that it’s not an ectopic pregnancy.”
“Oh,” Brooke said. “Okay.” She settled back against the pillow and turned her head toward the wall, where a poster of a tropical, sandy beach hung directly across from her. To let women imagine being there instead of on the exam table, Brooke supposed. To imagine being anywhere but here.
Linda helped Brooke get her heels in the hard plastic stirrups, put a warm blanket over her legs, and then pushed up her gown to expose her stomach. “Sorry, this is going to be a little cold,” she said as she squeezed a clear gel from a white bottle. But even with the warning, Brooke startled when the substance hit her skin. Linda grabbed a wand from the white and gray machine that sat on a cart next to the table. The screen was turned away from Brooke’s view. Linda pressed the end of the wand against Brooke’s abdomen. She was silent as she typed with one hand, maneuvering the wand from one of Brooke’s hip bones to the other.
“What are you doing?” Brooke asked. Her voice trembled, even though she tried to keep it steady. Had her mother thought about doing this when she got pregnant with her daughters? Did she lie in a room like this, and then change her mind, only to ultimately decide to dispose of them anyway? If she had this baby, was she destined to do the same?
“Just taking some measurements.”
The knot in Brooke’s chest pulsed. “Can I hear the heartbeat?” she asked.
Linda didn’t answer, but Brooke saw her flip a switch on the machine next to the table, and a moment later, after Linda moved the wand and pushed it harder into Brooke’s belly, the echoing whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of her baby’s heart filled the air.
“Oh,” Brooke said. Her hands clutched the crinkly white paper between her body and the table. Her eyes flooded with tears. “It’s so fast.” She paused, then turned to look at Linda. “Is that normal?”
“Yes,” Linda said, holding the wand steady. She didn’t say anything else, waiting, it seemed, for Brooke to tell her what to do next.
A whirlwind of indecision spun in Brooke’s mind. This was the best thing to do. She wasn’t equipped to raise a baby on her own. Her health insurance was shit. She didn’t make enough money. Ryan would think she was trying to trap him into finally divorcing Michelle. He’d leave Brooke. And then what would she be? Alone like she’d always been, with no idea how to be a good mother because she’d never had one herself.
“You okay, sweetie?” Linda asked, breaking into Brooke’s thoughts.
“I’m not sure,” Brooke said, much more comforted by the older woman’s presence than she had been by Jill’s. If she had had a grandmother, Brooke would have wanted her to be someone like Linda.
“You’re not sure if you’re okay, or if you still want to go ahead with the procedure?” Linda pulled the wand off Brooke’s belly, and the sudden silence that filled the room poured over Brooke like liquid lead. She found herself wanting to hear the baby’s heartbeat again and again.
“Both.” A few errant tears slipped down Brooke’s cheeks, and Linda reached for a box of tissues. “Thanks,” Brooke said as she took one and wiped her face.
“Of course,” Linda replied, setting the box back on the counter. “Women cry in here all the time. They change their minds, too. It’s one hundred percent your decision.”