Time of My Life_ A Novel - Allison Winn Scotch [81]
“Morning sickness up the wazoo,” Meg chimes in after finally swallowing.
“Ugh, I had it with both of mine the entire pregnancy,” Josie says, committing to dinner by reaching for a plate. “Everyone swore that it would pass after the first trimester, but nope, kept vomiting right until I delivered them.”
“Yeah, but really, wasn’t the heartburn the worst?” I say. They both cock their heads in confusion, and I realize my mistake. “Um, I mean, that’s what I’ve read. That the heartburn can be the worst.”
“Oh, the whole fucking thing was the worst.” Josie waves her chopsticks in the air, and I notice she’s still wearing her wedding ring. She hasn’t breathed a word of her potential dalliance with Bart in nearly two months. “I don’t care what all those books out there say, pregnancy is not the best time of a woman’s life.”
Meg freezes for half a beat and stares at her, as if Josie has just told her that the world is flat. Then she dismisses it.
“Well,” she says carefully, “I think it’s pretty wonderful. I mean, it’s such a powerful feeling knowing that I’m growing a human inside of me.”
I smile and try to soften Josie’s cynicism. Because Meg, after all that she’s gone through, or perhaps, after all that I’ve seen her go through in my previous life, does not deserve even a flea nip of cynicism. Though, I note to myself, she does echo the sound bites from the dozens of books on mommyhood that I’d piled next to my nightstand in anticipation of Katie’s arrival.
“Sweetie, it is pretty wonderful,” I say. “And you’re going to produce the cutest human being ever.” Second to Katie, I catch myself thinking, and I can’t seem to shake her chubby cheeks from my mind.
“No, but seriously, Meg, what are you doing here on a Friday night?” Josie asks again.
“That would be my fault,” I offer, pouring the container of mu shu onto my plate, still seeing Katie behind my eyes. “Every year, Meg and I plan an afternoon of last-minute gift shopping, and this year . . .” I gesture to the debris and to-dos in my office, “I couldn’t leave. So she came to me. We’re doing it all online.”
“Not quite the quality time I envisioned, but eh, free Chinese food, so I’ll take it.” Megan laughs.
“Those Coke fuckers, right?” Josie sighs. “And I haven’t even started my shopping.” The Coke execs scrapped our planned copy for the new print ads at the last minute, which meant brainstorming anew.
“Speaking of pregnancy,” Meg says, then pauses, reaching down into her bag.
“Which we weren’t exactly,” Josie notes.
“Close enough,” she counters, then produces an envelope from her purse. “Here, I wanted to show you.” She navigates the envelope around the food cartons and slides it over my desk. I run my fingers under the flap and pull out grainy black-and-white snapshots. To an untrained eye, they might look like alien shots taken from a spycam in space, but to a mother, they are proof, palpable proof, of both the being and the love that are growing inside of her.
“Oh my God, Meg.” I move my hand to my mouth and feel my nose tingle. I look up and see that her eyes, too, are full.
“That’s our little one,” she says, and for the first time tonight, her pallid, pregnant skin flushes with blood, as if the thought of her baby literally brings her to life. “It was taken last week when we saw the heartbeat.” She shakes her head. “The most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”
I stare at the little bean and remember my own appointment, just on the cusp of my second trimester. My stomach was just beginning to pooch, and the technician slopped cold gel onto my abdomen, such that I recoiled at the sensation. Henry held my hand as I lay on the exam table, and we both gazed up at the monitor, gazing in wait, as the tech moved her wand over and about until I felt her apply pressure and bam, there she was. Katie. Up on the screen. With tiny arms and legs and a bloated stomach and a perfect circle of a head. She somersaulted around inside of me, though I couldn’t yet feel her, throwing her own private party in my uterus.
“You’ve