Chapter 83 (1/2)

I should have known there would be a however.

“As I looked over the images from your exam, I concluded that your cervix is very narrow, and from what I can see, very short. I’d like to show you what I mean, if that’s okay?”

Dr. West adjusts his glasses and I nod in agreement. Short and narrow cervix. I did enough research online to know what that means.

TEN LONG MINUTES LATER, he’s shown me in great detail the things I already knew. I’ve known what he would conclude with. I knew the moment that I left his office two and a half weeks ago. As I get myself dressed, his words play on repeat through my mind:

“Not impossible, but highly unlikely.”

“There are other options—adoption is a route many people choose to go.”

“You’re still really young. As you get older, you and your partner can explore the best options for you.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Young.”

Without thinking, I dial Hardin’s number on the way to my car. I’m greeted by his voicemail three times before I force myself to put my phone away.

I don’t need him, or anyone, right now. I can deal with this on my own. I already knew this. I have already dealt with this in my mind and filed it away.

It doesn’t matter that Hardin didn’t answer the phone. I’m fine. Who cares if I can’t get pregnant? I’m only nineteen, and all of the other plans I’ve made have fallen through so far anyway. It’s only fitting that this last piece of my ultimate plan is blown to pieces, too.

The drive back to Kimberly’s is long because of congested traffic again. I hate driving, I’ve decided. I hate people who have road rage. I hate the way it always rains here. I hate the way young girls blare loud music with their windows rolled down, even in the rain. Just roll your windows up!

I hate the way I’m trying to stay positive and not turn into the pathetic Tessa I was last week. I hate that it’s so hard to think of anything except that my body betrayed me in the most final and intimate way.

I was born this way, Dr. West says. Of course I was. Just like my mother, no matter how perfect I try to be, it will never happen. There is a silver lining here, a sick one, in that at least I won’t pass any of the traits I got from her to a child. I suppose I can’t blame my mother for my faulty cervix, but I want to. I want to blame someone or something, but I can’t.

This is the way the world works: if you want something bad enough, it gets stripped away and held out of reach. Just the way Hardin is. No Hardin and no babies. The two would never have mixed anyway, but it was nice to pretend I could have the luxury of both.

As I walk into Christian’s house, I’m relieved to find I’m home alone. Not home, but here. Without checking my phone, I strip down and get into the shower. I don’t know how long I stay in there, watching the water circle the drain over and over. The water is cold when I finally climb out and dress myself in the T-shirt of Hardin’s that he left for me in my suitcase, when he sent me away in London.

I’m just lying here now, in this empty bed, and by the time I start to wish Kimberly were home, I get a text from her saying she and Christian are staying overnight downtown and Smith will be at the sitter’s all night. I have the entire house to myself and nothing to do, no one to talk to. No one now, not even a little baby later to care for and love.

I keep pitying myself and I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t seem to stop it.

Have some wine and rent a movie, our treat! Kimberly responds to my text wishing her fun for the night.