Chasing Someday

by Lindzee Armstrong

  Megan’s own stress melted away, and her brows furrowed in concern. Something must be seriously upsetting Sienna. She never played this poorly.

  Halfway through the song, Megan dropped her notebook to the floor. She splayed her fingers across the sheet music, covering the notes. Sienna froze, her fingers suspended over the keys.

  “Let’s take a breather,” Megan said.

  Sienna nodded, placing her hands in her lap and lowering her eyes to the keys.

  “Talk to me, Sienna. You’re usually flawless. What happened this week?”

  Sienna raised her eyes, and Megan was shocked to see they sparkled with tears. “I’m really sorry, Megan. I swear I’ll practice next week.”

  “Hey, that’s not what I meant.” Megan waved a hand toward the music. “This can wait a week. What I’m worried about is you. What’s going on?”

  “I got some bad news this week.” Her voice was so quiet Megan had to strain to hear it.

  That didn’t sound good. Was someone sick? Had Sienna broken up with her boyfriend? Did she fail a history test? “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I’m here to listen.”

  Sienna blinked, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I made a really big mistake, and I can’t fix it.”

  “I’ll help if I can,” Megan said softly.

  “I’m pregnant.” Sienna dropped her head into her hands with a sob.

  Waves crashed against Megan, knocking the breath from her lungs. Buzzing filled her ears, and her vision blurred.

  Pregnant. No, it couldn’t be true. She’d misheard Sienna.

  “What?” Megan said stupidly.

  Sienna’s shoulders shuddered. “I took a test yesterday at school. Then I took three more. My period was a week late, and Dane and I . . . I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  Sienna didn’t mean for it to happen. After five years of begging for it to happen—of planning and praying and paying—it still hadn’t happened for Megan. But one moment of passion was all it took for Sienna and Dane to accidentally create life.

  “Have you told your parents?” Megan’s voice cracked. Of course Sienna hadn’t told her parents. There was no way she’d be here at piano lessons if she had.

  Sienna shook her head. “I’m scared. They’ll be so disappointed.”

  Disappointed. A beautiful baby, and yet everyone would be disappointed. Because Sienna was seventeen. She should be worrying about prom dresses, not maternity clothes.

  Megan closed her eyes as the pain rolled over her. Don’t let me make a mess of this, she prayed. Don’t let me fall apart. Somehow, Megan had to put aside her own feelings—and the raging hormones from Clomid—and not make things worse.

  She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “Your parents love you. You need to tell them. You need to go to the doctor.” Megan swallowed hard. “You need to make plans. For the baby.”

  Sienna’s sobs came louder. “It’ll break their hearts. I was so stupid. I’m never irresponsible. And now . . . They’ll . . .” Her shoulders shook.

  “Hey.” Megan wrapped an arm around Sienna and pulled her close. All Megan could think about was Sienna, and how this was every bit as sad for her as it was for Megan.

  Sienna had her whole life ahead of her. And now she also had a baby.

  “You have to tell them, Sienna. You know you have to.”

  Sienna turned, and Megan’s arm fell off her shoulders. “Help me, Megan. Please.” Her voice caught on the word. “I know I have to tell them, but I don’t know how.”

  They spent the rest of Sienna’s lesson carefully planning how she would approach her parents. Sienna broke down a few times, but seemed determined to figure this out.

  Megan gave Sienna a long hug before she left. “Your parents are good people,” Megan reminded her. “They’ll be disappointed, but they love you, and they’re going to help you through this.”

  Sienna nodded, hugging Megan back. “Thanks.”

  “I want a text letting me know how things go tonight.”

  “Maybe I should do it tomorrow.”

  Megan shook her head, making her voice firm. “You need to get this over with. It’s going to get harder the longer you wait.”

  Sienna sighed, then nodded. “I should’ve never let this happen.”

  The knife twisted in Megan’s heart until she wanted to scream. “But it did. And now you have to deal with it.”

  Megan stood on the front porch and watched Sienna drive away. Then she went inside and stared at the piano. With a yell, she swiped all the sheet music onto the floor.

  “Why?” she screamed. “Why do you give her a baby and not me? It isn’t fair. Not to either of us.” The hurt cut deep into her soul, a physical pain she feared she’d drown in. “I’m a good person. I read the Bible and say my prayers and go to church every Sunday. Why won’t You give me a baby?”

  Silence was her only answer.

  She pushed the piano music aside with her foot and slid the bench out to accommodate her longer legs. She pounded on the keyboard with a ferocious intensity. Am I not good enough? Megan wondered as the tears streamed down her face. Would I not be a good mother? Is that why You won’t give me children? She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the problem, and not just because of her physical difficulties in conceiving.

  The music flowed through Megan, each note pulled from her soul and strung together to sing of her anger and despair. She hunched over the keys, pounding. The minor chords pulsed through her arms.

  In the middle of a particularly furious section, the doorbell rang, echoing through the whole house.

  Megan stopped playing. She should ignore it. But whoever stood outside would’ve heard her playing—and would’ve heard her stop. What’s more, they’d probably seen her through the bay window as they walked up the front steps.

  Sighing, Megan walked to the door. If it was a solicitor, she would send them running away in tears.

  But it wasn’t a solicitor. Christina stood on the front steps, looking embarrassed. She wore a cream-colored pea coat that nearly covered her dress, leaving a few inches of the skirt exposed at the bottom. Her gloved hands were clasped around a DVD case. “Hi,” she said. “I wanted to return this before I forgot.” She held out the Criminology DVD box.

  Why couldn’t Christina have stopped by any day but today?

  “Thanks.” Megan took the DVDs from Christina. “How’d you like it?”

  “It was great. We really enjoyed it.” Christina opened her mouth as though to say something, then pursed her lips. “Well, thanks again.” She turned to leave, then spun back around. “I’m really sorry, but I have to ask—is everything okay?”

  Megan laughed, and it sounded bitter even to her own ears. “Of course. I’m Megan Burke. I’m always okay in the end. Nothing can bring me down.”

  Christina shuffled her feet. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

  Megan did want to talk. But Christina wouldn’t understand. “I don’t want to bother you with my problems.”

  Christina nodded. “Is it weird to ask if we can borrow season two? I promised Gary I’d ask.”

  “Oh.” Megan opened the door wider, motioning Christina inside. “Of course it’s still okay. Sorry, I’m not thinking clearly today.”

  Christina followed Megan inside. “I feel bad asking. I can see you’re upset.”

  Tears pricked Megan’s eyes, and she blinked. She didn’t want to cry in front of Christina. She wanted them to be friends, and crying might convince Christina she was a crazy person to be avoided.

  Megan led Christina into the family room and went over to the DVD cabinet, putting Criminology back and grabbing season two. “I’ve had a really rough day.”

  “Can I ask what happened? If you don’t want to tell me, I understand. But I really would like to help if I can.” Christina sat on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, gloves still on.

  Megan handed Christina the DVD
s and sank down on the other side of the couch. Christina seemed willing to talk, and Megan needed a listening ear. Why not? It wasn’t like today could get any worse.

  “I got some bad news today. One of my piano students is pregnant—she’s only seventeen. Still in high school. And I don’t know why she has to go through such a trial, when a baby would be such a blessing to me.” It was useless. The tears were determined to fall, splattering onto Megan’s lap and leaving dark spots on her dress pants.

  Christina’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry. That must feel really unfair to you.”

  “Yeah, it does. I feel awful Sienna has to go through something this hard.”

  “But you’re sad for yourself too?” Christina finished.

  “Yes. Wow, you really get it.”

  A mask fell over Christina’s face, and she laughed uncomfortably. “I’m trying to view the situation through your eyes. I haven’t gone through nearly what you have, I’m sure.”

  “I’ll bet that’s not true. We all have our trials.”

  Christina nodded. “I’m sorry today’s been one of yours. I don’t know what you’re feeling, but I can imagine what it’s like to have something you want so badly just out of reach.”

  “I feel like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I work, things never go in our favor.”

  They sat in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable like Megan expected it to be.

  “We took a break from fertility treatments. Almost nine months. But we started on a new cycle of treatments yesterday. The hormone drugs make me act like a crazy person. I think that probably made my reaction today more intense than it would’ve been otherwise. I kept it together while she was here, but sort of exploded when she left.”

  Christina nodded. “Hormones can really mess you up. I’ve never taken fertility drugs or anything, but PMS is bad enough. I hope it works for you this time.”

  “Me too.”

  Christina rose from the couch, holding up the DVD case. “Thanks for letting us borrow Criminology. It’s been really good for us to watch together.”

  Megan raised an eyebrow. “No problem. When you’re finished with that season, I’ll give you the next one.”

  Christina nodded, heading toward the front door, and Megan followed.

  “I didn’t even ask you about the after-school program,” Megan said. “I’m sorry. I’m usually not this rude. How’s that going? Co-chair still being difficult?”

  “Things are improving. I think we’re on the same page now.”

  “That’s great. You know, we really should get together for a game night sometime soon. Trent and I would love to get to know you guys better.”

  Christina paused at the doorway. “We’d really like that.”

  “It’s a double date. Thanks for talking to me, Christina. I actually do feel better now.”

  Christina blushed, making her freckles stand out. “No problem. I hope the rest of your day is better.” She opened the door and stepped out on the front porch, hesitating. “You play the piano beautifully,” she said. And then she was gone.

  The day of Christina’s appointment with the gynecologist dragged. She vacillated between feeling excited to find out what was holding them back and scared to death for the same reason. It felt good to be proactive, to move forward instead of standing still. She was ready to admit there was a problem and work on fixing it. But Gary? After today, what would happen?

  She slung her purse over one shoulder, ready to walk out of the classroom for the day. Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID, her stomach dropping. Gary.

  Christina closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and answered. “Hey, I’m just leaving the school. Are you on your way to the doctor’s?”

  “Not exactly.” She heard the apology in his voice. She flipped the classroom lights off harder than necessary and locked the door.

  “You’re not coming.” It wasn’t a question because Christina wasn’t surprised.

  “I’m really sorry, babe. Something came up, and I’ve got piles of paperwork to do before tomorrow.”

  “That’s your excuse? Paperwork?” She balled her free hand into a fist, curling the other tighter around her phone. “I would really like it if you’d take an hour out of your day and go to the doctor with me.”

  “But you don’t need me there, right? They’re going to do the exact same thing whether I’m present or not. This is my job we’re talking about. I’m really sorry, but I need to stay.”

  Christina didn’t doubt he had paperwork, but he could put it off for an hour. He was lying, and they both knew it. “Fine. Once again, work comes first.” Christina hung up before he could reply. It rang again, but she rejected the call.

  She drove faster than she should to the doctor’s office, her hands clutching the steering wheel. Christina ignored three more calls and at least two texts. She turned the rock station up uncomfortably loud, determined to stay angry and not cry. Maybe Gary wasn’t ready to face their infertility, but she was. And she would do it with or without him.

  Christina walked into the waiting room at the OB/GYN’s office and felt her self-righteous anger and false confidences vanish. Five women, all obviously pregnant, were scattered around the room, sitting in mismatched chairs. They looked young and vibrant and glowing. Christina wanted to turn and run.

  You can do this. She forced herself to walk to the reception desk and check in.

  She sat as far away from the pregnant ladies as she could. One woman looked exhausted as she fought to keep her two children quiet. Another snuggled up to a man, their heads bent close as they whispered and traced circles on her belly. Christina’s heart ached. She wanted that for herself and Gary so badly. But she doubted he’d attend doctor appointments with her, even if she did get pregnant. He hadn’t bothered to come today.

  Christina’s phone buzzed again. Her finger hovered over the “view” icon as she debated whether to read the text. The number was up to five now.

  She put her phone in her purse without reading any of them.

  One by one, the pregnant women were called back. As each woman left the waiting room, Christina relaxed and breathed easier. Finally it was her turn.

  “Dr. Blakely wants to talk to you before the exam,” the nurse told Christina, pausing outside a doorway and motioning her inside. Christina was surprised to see it was an office, with a large desk and two comfortable looking chairs in front of it. “She should be with you in a few minutes.”

  Christina clutched her purse strap tighter and sat down on the edge of one of the chairs. Why did Gary have to flake? Her stomach knotted with anxiety, and she wished he was there holding her hand.

  She expected to wait another twenty minutes in the office, but after only five, Dr. Blakely entered. “Christina,” she said with a smile, extending her hand. Christina shook it, and the doctor sat down, flipping open Christina’s chart. “It’s been a while. You’ve neglected your yearly exam.”

  “I’ve been busy,” Christina said, but the excuse felt thin even to her.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here now. The nurse made a notation that you’re worried about infertility. Can you tell me about that?”

  Christina swallowed and gave Dr. Blakely the basic run-down of her concerns. She was in the middle of answering a question about her cycle lengths when there was a knock on the door. They both looked up as a nurse stepped into the room.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Vincent’s here,” the nurse said.

  Christina’s mouth dropped open as the nurse left and Gary entered the room. His tie hung loosely around his neck, his suit jacket unbuttoned. Hands were buried deep in his pockets, and his face was cautiously blank. She knew he’d rather be anywhere else in the world at that moment. But he’d chosen to be here with her.

  Christina’s heart softened, and she forced a scowl to combat the gooey feelings of warmth. Guilt had most likely brought him here. Or maybe he didn’t want to fight.

  Maybe he wanted to
support her, and had overcome his anxiety to do so.

  Gary sank into the chair next to hers, taking her hand. She resisted pulling away, not wanting to make a scene in front of Dr. Blakely.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Gary said. “Please continue, Doctor.”

  Dr. Blakely smiled and returned to questioning Christina about her periods. Christina felt even more uncomfortable answering with Gary around, especially after their fight. She was grateful he was there. Grateful for the support. Grateful he cared.

  But he should’ve come with her in the first place.

  After another ten minutes, Dr. Blakely set down her pen. “You have classic symptoms of endometriosis.”

  Gary’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as did Christina’s. She had heard of endometriosis, but never thought she might have it.

  “What is endometriosis?” Gary stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

  Dr. Blakely grabbed a flip chart, pointing to different body parts as she spoke. “Endometriosis is when some of the uterine lining attaches itself outside the uterus. Every month the lining builds up, but when the period begins, it doesn’t slough off like it should because it’s outside the uterus and has nowhere to go. Instead it forms scar tissue. A lot of times this is on the fallopian tubes, which can interfere with fertility.” She set the chart down. “We’ll do some blood work today because it’s routine, but that won’t tell us if you have endometriosis or not. I’ll do a physical exam as well, but we rarely find evidence that way.”

  “How do you find it?” Gary asked. “An ultrasound?”

  “It doesn’t show up there. The only way to know for sure is surgery. But let’s not start worrying just yet.” Dr. Blakely stood. “Let me take you to an exam room, and I’ll have a nurse draw your blood.”

  After Christina had her blood work done, she undressed from the waist down and waited on an exam table with a papery sheet covering her.

  “Christina,” Gary began.

  “Now is not the time,” Christina said. “Why are you even here?”