me a tight smile. “Sorry, I know I should have called.”
I look at her with curious eyes. “It’s fine,” I tell her, welcoming her in. “What’s up?”
She slips off her shoes and kisses both the girls, who are busy doing puzzles on the floor in the living room. “I was wondering if you could find a babysitter,” she ventures as she drags me to the kitchen, maneuvering her way around the puzzles.
“Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”
She laughs. “Believe me, this place is tidier than my house.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Her smile fades. “Uh… no. So you think Caroline could sit for an hour or two.”
I start to really wonder what she’s up to. “Why? What did you have in mind?”
She rolls her eyes. “Just call her.”
As I nurse a cup of tea, I pick up the phone and call Caroline. Thankfully, she’s available.
“Should I change? Are we going to your country club?” I joke.
“You’re fine,” she says, heart-attack serious.
I hop into her sleek little Audi and for the first time in our friendship, I find myself at a loss for words.
“Have you told Gabe yet?”
I shrug, looking out at the landscape ahead. “No.”
“And you haven’t talked to Weston, I hope.”
“Nope.”
“Mirella,” she says as we round the corner. “Promise me you won’t be angry with me.”
And then it all falls together as I spot the Planned Parenthood clinic I’ve walked past half a dozen times. I’ve never been inside, but I know what it’s all about.
Emotion washes over me; anger, fear, sadness.
“How dare you,” I cry, wanting to escape. “Who do you think you are?”
She parks the car in front. “Listen to me, Mirella,” she says with an eerily-calm voice. “I just want you to go in there and speak to someone. I want you to see there are options.”
“But I don’t want—”
She grabs my shoulder, her big brown eyes fixed on mine. “Mirella, no one is forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do. I know you. I know this is something you would probably never consider, but it doesn’t hurt to talk to someone.”
I reluctantly follow her in, reminding myself I’m simply looking at my options, knowing I don’t need to go through with anything if I don’t want to.
The clinic is clean, the walls are covered with posters, and the chairs in the reception area are all in good repair. A display of informative pamphlets sits in the corner. There are only three women sitting in the waiting area. One of them is accompanied by a partner — they look so young — they must be sixteen years old, if that.
Juliet, a warm and friendly middle-aged woman greets us. I wonder if it’s an act or if she’s just naturally this cheery.
I sign in and complete a registration form. The clinic assures me everything will be completely confidential and private. Gwen stays by my side, offering moral support. I glare at her continuously. She will pay for this — I’m not sure how exactly, but she will.
Gwen and I sit in the waiting area for a little while, not uttering a single word to each other. Finally, I’m called into the clinic.
I go over the details of my health and pregnancy with a kind nurse. I imagine she’s the kind of woman who bakes cookies, hugs her grandchildren copiously and gives them little treats whenever she sees them. If I could wish for a mother, she’d be it. Her kind smile and soft voice put me instantly at ease.
We chat for a while, and then comes the not-so-fun part; a standard blood test and a sonogram to determine just how far along I am. I tell her I already know I’m about ten weeks now.
I lay back on the paper covered medical bed and smile at Alicia, another nurse. Or is it sonogramist? I’m not sure what her official title is but she’s friendly enough. I want to tell her I’m not really considering this. I want to tell her my friend dragged me in here against my will. But I don’t say a word.
I undo the fly of my jean shorts, and pull down the band of my panties.
“This will be just a tad cold,” she warns me before spreading the clear gel across my belly. I’m instantly taken back to years before, when Gabe and I were anxiously waiting for Chloe and Claire. Pregnancy was a different experience back then. I had a partner I could rely on; someone