Twenty Four Weeks - Episode 17 - "Twenty Eight" (PG)
Page 6
But now I know you have."
?
Wade grabs me before we start our show, pulls me into his office.
"You busy this afternoon?" he asks me.
"No, why?" I'm not. I just have to pick Quinn up at five. I've not maybe four hours to fill in.
"I got a call last night. We've got a meeting."
"About what?"
"Television."
"Haven't we had enough of that? I mean, we barely made it out alive last time."
He smiles, shakes his head. "This is different?"
?
"So," Quinn's doctor says. "Everything looks to be fine, except for your blood pressure."
He looks down his nose at us and smiles.
"You don't look worried," Quinn observes.
"I'm not. Yet. But it is heading on the way up, and that worries me a little."
"So, what does this mean?" I ask.
?
I've been here before. This is a familiar scene to me. It was years ago, when Quinn was carrying our first child. We were so full of hope then, full of love, full of joy. This was just another stage in our journey and we attended to it with all the enthusiasm we could muster. We're overjoyed to be here again, but it's tinged with a little fear and a little sadness. Last time it came to nothing. We're hoping that this time things will be different.
We're sitting in a circle. There are eight couples, sixteen of us in total, with another sitting somewhere in the middle. You can't really tell where she's sitting, at the start, at the end, in the middle. It's a circle and things don't work that way. I guess, because she's the odd one out, she defines the start and the end.
We're all connected in some way, even before we walked in half an hour ago, even before we met. We have something in common. There are bankers and stockbrokers, there are teachers and nurses, there are plumbers and electricians. People from all walks of life, from all positions and stations, sitting there, smiling at each other, joining together, becoming friends when it would have been near impossible in any other circumstance.
Because we are all pregnant.
?
Quinn and I pull up at the Uptons around ten in the morning. Normally we have the only car in the drive, but not today. There are three, and I have to park in a different place.
Quinn flashes me a look of concern, but I shrug back. I help her out of the car and walk hand in hand with her to the steps that lead to the landing and the front door. It opens and a woman around Mary's age waits for us to make the top.
"Can I help you?" she asks.
"We're here to see Grant," I say, perhaps a little timidly. This is not our usual reception.
The woman's face drops a little. "He had a session today?" she asks.
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