The Nine Month Plan
Page 13
Nina flips through the pages, finding September. Sure enough, there’s a red circle around the twelfth. That was the day she saw the pink streaks on the toilet paper.
She starts counting forward, day by day.
Then, frowning, counts again.
And again.
And again, just to be sure.
According to this calendar, she should have had her period again five days ago.
Which means . . .
What the heck does it mean?
Nina’s still wondering as she races back to the bathroom, gagging again.
Chapter Nine
“MR. MATERI?”
Joe looks up from his computer screen to see his new secretary, a young African-American woman, hovering in the doorway of his office. “Yes? What is it, Belinda?”
“Lobby security just called. There’s a woman down there who needs to see you, and she doesn’t have an appointment, and they won’t send her up.”
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Nita.”
“Nita?” He shakes his head, searching his mental list of business contacts. “I don’t know anyone named . . .”
“She says she’s a friend of yours, and she has a long Italian last name but I don’t remember what it—”
“Chickalini? Nina?”
“Yes! That was it. I’m sorry,” Belinda adds. “I should have written it down. I’ll get the hang of this any day now, I promise.”
“It’s okay. Tell them to send her—wait a minute, never mind.” Joe has already risen from his chair, grabbed his briefcase and overcoat, and is striding toward the door. “I’ll go down instead. I was going to leave for lunch in a few minutes anyway.”
As he waits impatiently for the elevator to sink the thirty-four floors to the lobby, he wonders what Nina’s doing here.
Most likely, she’s just in the neighborhood and thought she’d pop in to see if he’s free for lunch. Unless . . .
Joe is invaded by a sudden memory of Nina in a periwinkle taffeta bridesmaid’s dress, appearing unexpectedly in the doorway of the pea-green room in the rectory that dismal June Saturday so many years ago.
What if Nina’s here now because something awful has happened . . . ?
Nah. If that was the case, she would simply call him, not show up at his office in the middle of—
But what if it’s really bad news? The kind of bad news that can only be broken in person?
What if something has happened to Mom or Pop in Florida? When he spoke to them the other night, Pop was coughing. He said it was just a cold, but . . .
Oh, hell.
That can’t be it.
If something happened to one of his parents, Joe reminds himself, Nina wouldn’t likely be the first to know.
She’s probably just here for an impromptu lunch date, for which he’d gladly join her if he didn’t have to meet a client at Nobu in—he checks his watch—twenty-two minutes.
The elevator bumps to a stop at last.
Joe wastes no time stepping through the doors when they slide open, his eyes scanning the vast two-story lobby for Nina.
He spots her over by the fountain, sitting on a bench in a slouched, decidedly un-Nina-like posture.
Uh-oh.
He hurries toward her, bracing himself for bad news. “Nina?”
She looks up.
“What are you doing here? Is someone . . . did someone . . . ?”
“You mean, ‘who’s dead?’ Right, Joey?” she asks, breaking into a grin.
His stomach lurches. “Somebody’s dead?”
“God, no! I just meant that was what you asked me on your wedding day when I came to tell you about Minnie. You looked at me then just like you are now, and you said, ‘who’s dead?’ Remember? And I said—”
“Yeah, I remember,” he says impatiently. “If nobody’s dead why are you sitting there like that?”
“Like what?”
“All hunched over. Like you’re trying to . . . I don’t know . . . trying to comfort yourself or something.”
“I’m sitting like this because the subway ride did me in,” she says, her arms wrapped around her middle. “I was nauseous before I got on. Now I feel like I’m going to throw up again any second.”
He takes a step back. “Look, no offense, Nina, but I’m leaving for Chicago in the morning and I don’t really want to catch—”
“What I’ve got, you can’t catch, Joey,” she says, wearing an odd little smile.
“What is it? Food poisoning? Wait, let me guess . . . you ordered the meat loaf at the diner again, right? I told you that you shouldn’t—”
“Joey, it’s not food poisoning.” She stands, facing him, and puts her hands gently on his shoulders. Pushes on his shoulders, actually. “Sit.”
“Huh?”
“Sit down. You have to hear this news sitting down.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Joey—”
“You did this that day in the rectory, too. You made me sit down before you told me the bad news. Nina—”
“Sit, Joey.”
“I don’t want to sit. Just tell me.”
“But—”
“Tell me, Nina!” he snaps.
“Fine! I’m pregnant!” she snaps back.
Joe’s legs wobble beneath him.
“See? I told you.” Nina gives him a little downward shove.
He sinks to the bench. He stutters something meant to be, “What are you talking about?”
“I’m pregnant, Joey!” Nina repeats. “Can you believe it?”
“Who’s . . . is it the burly guy?”
“The burly guy? What burly guy?”
“You know what burly guy. The one George told me about.”
“Who’s George? What burly guy? And what does this have to do with—”
“George said you were in the cafe with a burly guy on a date,” Joe says succinctly.
“Oh! Cafe George. Joey—”
“I thought maybe he was the father. The burly guy. Not George.”
“The father? Of my baby?”
He nods.
“You idiot!” Nina swats him on the arm. Hard.
“Hey! Ow!”
“Hello? You’re the father, Joey. Do you think I’d go around—”
“I’m the father?”
“Yes. Very good. Now you get it. You’re the father. Just like we planned.”
Joe feels a smile bursting across his face, even as he tries to process this stunning development. He searches his reeling brain, wondering if he and Nina slept together again in the past month and he somehow let it slip his mind.
He’s certain that isn’t the case. He couldn’t forget something like that, not when every detail of their passionate interlude remains etched in his memory—and fantasies—in glorious living color.
“I guess I don’t get it, Nina . . . but if you’re serious—”
She kneels before him and squeezes both his hands in her own. “I’m dead serious, Joey.”
“I’m going to be a father?”
She nods emphatically.
“But I thought the test said—”
“It was a false negative. But apparently you can get false negatives. I mean, obviously you can, because—”
“But you said you got your period right after that!”
“I did. I mean, I thought I did. But when I told my doctor about that this morning, she said spotting is common in early pregnancy. And when I think back, it does seem like it was a lighter period than usual, so I guess it wasn’t my period after all, and . . .” She trails off, glimpsing his expression. “Sorry. Too much information?”
“No! I’m just . . . I just feel overwhelmed. I’m . . . I’
m trying to digest—I can’t believe—” He’s stuttering, fumbling, trying to make sense of it all. “You were pregnant all along, then? From that one night we were together?”
“That’s all it takes. Weren’t you paying attention when Sister Mary Agnes gave us the big tenth-grade sex talk?”
“Oh, please, Nina . . . she was rambling about flowers and nectar,” Joe points out, squeezing Nina’s hands tightly, gazing into her face. She does have a certain . . . glow. A slightly green glow, but a glow nonetheless.
“Well, your pollen can fly, or drift, or whatever it’s supposed to be doing, Mr. Materi.” Nina wobbles a little as she rises from her kneeling position.
“Careful!” Joe hurriedly grasps her elbows to steady her and guides her gently down to the bench beside him.
“Thanks. Wow, this is going to be great.”
“What is?”
“You treating me like I’m some fragile, delicate thing. Are you going to be like this from now until May?”
“That’s when you’re due?”
“I think so. Around the twentieth. That’s what the nurse said.”
“So you saw the doctor and the nurse before you even told me?”
“I tried to tell you first, but by the time I finished throwing up, cleaned up the mess Yank made in the front hall, got to the drugstore, bought the test, brought it home, and took it, you had already left for work.”
“But why didn’t you tell me you were going to take a test this morning? I would’ve stayed home. I would’ve been with you when you found out.”
“It’s not something I planned on, Joey. Not until I found myself barfing my brains out at dawn, and then I realized my period was late—”
“And it never came last month even though you thought it did—”
“That was just spotting,” she reminds him patiently.
“And it was late this month?”
“Right. And I threw up, and then I thought I should take a test. And then I called the doctor when it was positive, and the nurse talked to me and then the doctor talked to me and I have an appointment in a few weeks and they’re going to—”
“A few weeks? Why a few weeks? Why not today?”
“Because they said they don’t generally see anyone until the end of the first trimester, when the pregnancy is firmly established. They called in a prescription for prenatal vitamins for me, though.”
Trimester.
Prenatal.
It’s as though she’s learned a whole new language without him.
Joe can’t help feeling left out, irrationally or not. “Well, I hope you made the appointment for a Saturday.”
“I didn’t. They don’t have Saturday appointments. Why?”
“Because I’m going to go with you,” he says, as though that fact should be as obvious to her as it is to him. “I want to be there for everything.”
“In that case, it’s a shame you missed the pre-dawn vomit fest. But I’ll be sure and call you tomorrow morning at, say, four A.M. just so you won’t miss an ounce of spew.”
“Very funny.”
“Come on, Joey, it is funny. I mean, it’s funny now. It wasn’t so funny then. And it had better not happen every single morning, because if it does . . .” She shakes her head. “Just thinking about it is making me . . .” She swallows audibly.
“Queasy? I’m sorry, Nina,” he says, trying to muster a suitable measure of sympathy. But his emotions are already on overload. It’s all he can do to string words together to form complete sentences.
“Queasy?” She glares at him. “Queasy is one too many cups of coffee on an empty stomach. Queasy is the day after Easter when you’re eight years old. This isn’t queasy, Joey. And this morning was definitely not queasy. It was . . . you saw The Exorcist, right?”
“Poor you,” he says quickly. “Listen, Nina, the thing is, I want to be there for as much as I can.”
“Good. Then you can hold my hair back the next time I’m sick, for starters.” She shoves her bangs impatiently behind her ears. The hair falls forward again promptly. She makes a frustrated sound.
Joe reaches out and gently tucks the hair back again.
Nina flashes him a grateful little smile. “Thanks, Joey.”
“And I want to come to all of your doctor’s appointments. When is the first one?”
“On a Monday morning at ten-forty-five.”
“Does the doctor have evening hours?”
“I’ll check, but Joey, it’s not like you’re going to be able to be with me for everything, every minute. You don’t have to. Not until the baby’s born. That’s when you take over, just like we said.”
“Yeah.”
An image darts into his head. He sees Nina handing him a blanket-wrapped bundle, then picking up a suitcase and walking out the door.
“Are you okay, Joey?”
“Of course! I’m great.” he shoves away the troubling image and focuses on Nina. “This is just . . . it’s amazing. I can’t believe we’re really doing this.”
“I know.”
“Are you scared?”
“I’m scared sh—” She glances down at her stomach. “Witless,” she amends, and whispers to him, “A fetus can hear, you know.”
“Already?”
“I think so. I saw something about it on a Lifetime movie once. This woman was pregnant and her husband was a classical violinist, and he used to play to her stomach. He wanted the baby to inherit his love of music.”
“Did it work?”
“It was a Lifetime movie, remember? They didn’t get that far. The woman was in an accident and she wound up in a coma, and the whole thing was about a lawsuit and whether she should be unplugged or kept alive to deliver the baby.” Nina shudders.
“What happened?” Joe takes a pack of gum out of his pocket, takes a piece for himself, and offers it to her.
“Thanks. I just found myself totally relating to that poor woman. I suddenly feel like a human incubator,” she says, accepting the pack of gum and taking out two sticks. She always chews two sticks at a time.
“No, I mean what happened in the movie? Did they keep her alive?”
“I can’t remember. I probably fell asleep. Why?” She narrows her eyes at him, unwrapping the gum. “Are you thinking that if something like that happens to me now you’ll stand guard and shoot anyone who tries to unplug me?”
“Absolutely.”
“What a pal.” She pops the gum into her mouth. “So anyway, listen, I’ll find out about switching the doctor’s appointment, but if I can’t, you might just have to—ow!”
Alarmed, he grabs her arm. “What’s wrong? Are you having cramps? What happened?”
“Relax, I just bit my tongue. I have a few months to go before labor, remember?” Nina grins at him, then blows a bubble.
He reaches out and pops it.
“Hey!”
“Sorry. You know I can never resist.”
She peels pink gum from the tip of her nose. “I thought you were going to be treating me differently now that I’m carrying your child.”
“That doesn’t include not popping your bubbles.”
“Does it include bringing me fresh watermelon and root beer floats at three A.M. if that’s what I’m craving?”
“Is that really what you’re craving?”
“No.” She makes a face. “I’m not craving anything right now, except maybe saltines. My stomach’s still churning. I think it’s this gum. It’s making me sick.”
“Here,” he says, holding his outstretched hand under her chin. She obediently spits the slimy wad into his palm.
“Good.” He wraps it in a tissue from his suitcoat pocket. “The last thing I need is for you to vomit in this lobby. Which reminds me . . . I’m late for a lunch meeting.”
“Oh.” She pouts. “I thought maybe we could have lunch together, to celebrate.”
“I don’t think Nobu serves saltines.” Joe stands and deposits the tissue into a trash can.
“You’re going to Nobu?” Nina asks, as they head for the revolving lobby doors. “I could go for some sushi. I haven’t had it in ages.”
“Nina, for one thing, it’s a lunch meeting with a client, so I can’t bring you along. And for another—”
“You think I hog all the spicy yellow-tail roll whenever we have sushi.”
“Well, that too. But what I meant was, are you sure you’re supposed to go around eating raw fish in your condition?”
“You think I’m not?”
“I don’t know. You’d better check with the doctor.”
“I guess,” she says flatly.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. It’s just . . . no sushi. No caffeine. No alcohol. I wonder if I’ll be allowed to have chocolate.”
“It has caffeine in it, doesn’t it?”
“Not a lot.”
“You’d better check with your doctor about that, too. Why don’t you make a list of questions to ask her when we have our appointment? And in the meantime, avoid any risky behavior.”
“Fine. I’ll go home and sit quietly on a chair. Maybe I’ll even take up needlepoint.”
“Good idea.”
“Oh, wait, that’s risky. I might pinch myself with the needle,” she says darkly as they step out into the chilly October sunshine.
“Very funny. Here.” Joe reaches into his pocket and pulls out a couple of twenty-dollar bills.
“What’s this?”
“Cab fare. You’re not taking the subway home.”
“Joey—”
“Nina, come on.” He checks his watch again, and pulls her to her feet. “I’ll get us a cab, and you can drop me at Nobu on the way uptown.”
“Yeah, sure. You get sushi at Nobu,” she says, falling into step beside him. “Me, I get to go home to Queens for peanut butter and jelly . . . if I can keep it down.”