Chances Are Read online

  “Let’s check your vitals,” Barbara said, in the same sing-song tone she had when Natalie first came to the recovery room.

  Natalie opened her mouth and accepted the hard plastic thermometer under her tongue. She breathed slowly, if not quite calmly and relaxed her arm as the blood pressure cuff wrapped around her bicep. Air rushed in. The cuff tightened. She stared down at her belly. It was still slightly round under the dull blue hospital gown, like it had been when she was six months pregnant.

  Barbara ripped the Velcro apart and returned each instrument to it’s place on the wheeled contraption. “Looking good. Samantha will be in at seven.”

  "Looking good?" Natalie wasn't the type to snap at a nurse, or anyone really, but Barbara was more clueless than average. "Good how?"

  Barbara blinked while she figured it out. "Oh, sorry. I meant, no complications from the trauma."

  “Right.”

  Trauma, Natalie thought. That's a nice way to say, DEAD SON. But she didn't speak it out loud. She poked absently at her belly as the nurse left. It was a little spongy, but not sore. She hadn’t had to push very long, though he’d been full term.

  Vicki sniffed and stuck another crumpled tissue in her purse. She poured some water into a Styrofoam cup and handed it to Natalie. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat, honey?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Natalie answered, and took a sip.

  “You haven’t eaten since-”

  “I’m fine, really. Can’t you just….” Natalie blinked back tears. She’d almost snapped at her best friend. She took another sip and then a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, honey,” Vicki said. She sniffed and wiped her nose with another crumpled tissue. “I’m here for you, whenever you need anything.”

  “Thanks. I wish I could say the same of JD.”

  “He made it here at least, for the…”

  “Stillbirth,” Natalie said, choking on tears she didn’t bother to hide. “You can say it. Yes, JD was there. I’m thankful for that, but where’s he been up until we lost John Allen? Where will he be once we go home? I feel like I’ve lost both a husband and a son.”

  She broke down, crying into her hands. Vicki wrapped her in a warm hug, crying with her. “Shh, no honey, JD loves you. He’ll never leave you.”

  Once she caught her breath again, Natalie pulled away. “I know he’ll never leave physically, but the JD I fell in love with left me a long time ago. He’s married to his work. I thought, with John Allen, that things might change. Now, that chance is gone.”

  “What are you saying, honey?”

  “I’m saying that I don’t want to go home with JD.”

  Vicki’s jaw dropped, but she snapped her mouth shut quickly. “Listen, Nat, you’re in no state to make that kind of decision right now. You should sleep on it, go home and give it a few days. JD just might surprise you.”

  The door opened again. A bouquet of flowers glided into the room, with JD behind it. He peeked out from behind the rainbow of color and smiled. “Hey.”

  She was happy to see him for a moment, till she saw that he had his phone in the hand that wasn't holding the vase, and it was still lit. He'd just hung up. Had he been thinking about her at all?

  “Hey,” Natalie answered. “Did you call everyone?”

  He nodded.

  “Is your mom OK?”

  “Yeah, she will be.”

  His shirt was half-tucked, and his dark hair stood every which way like it did when he’d been running his hands through it. He set the vase on the bedside table beside the others from family and friends who had dropped in for all of five minutes. Who could have blamed them? What could they have said, really? JD’s parents were still in the waiting room. His mom had taken it hard, crying so much when she saw Natalie, that JD’s dad wheeled her right back out just after they had arrived.

  If Natalie’s mom wasn’t overseas, she would have been there, but that wasn’t much solace. Natalie had called Meredith as soon as she was settled into the recovery room bed. As usual, she’d had to leave a voicemail. She couldn’t even remember what she had said—hopefully something Meredith could decipher.

  “I’ll step out for a bit,” Vicki said. “Call me if you need anything before I get back, OK?”

  “OK,” Natalie said.

  “Thanks for staying, Vicki.” JD dug around in his pocket. Out came a baggie containing Natalie’s jewelry and watch.

  “No problem at all. See you later.”

  JD plopped the baggie on the side table next to the phone. Natalie’s fingers weren’t swollen anymore, now that they’d taken out the IV. She could probably have worn her wedding ring again, but she reached for the remote instead and let her head sink into the pillow.

  JD’s cell chirped. He grappled it from his coat pocket and held his finger up. “Sorry, just a minute.” He shuffled out the door.

  Natalie flipped through the channels. A Jif peanut butter commercial came on. A boy with chubby cheeks and freckles, sandy brown hair, and two missing front teeth chomped down on a PB & J sandwich. John Allen would have probably looked like him at that age, Natalie mused, except he would have ended up with JD’s ebony hair which he’d inherited from his Mexican mother. He would have probably liked peanut butter. The last nine months of her life she’d spent wondering what he’d look like, how he would sound, how soon he would take his first steps. His nursery was done—a space theme with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. By the time of the last prenatal exam, she had already been dreading returning to work. Six weeks wasn’t going to be long enough at home with John Allen.

  Such a routine appointment. Lie back on the table, feel the cold gel, the pressure from the Doppler roving across her belly. She’d worried about such stupid things while she waited to hear that little tha-thump, tha-thump. Stretch marks and swollen ankles. Varicose veins. The thirty-six pounds she’d gained. She would never forget that awful silence or that look on Dr. Brennen’s face.

  I’m sorry. There’s no heartbeat.

  And later, after the Pitocin-induced labor, there was no crying, no wiggling, no brand-new eyes blinking into the light. John Allen was blue and lifeless, limp as a ragdoll, but still warm from being inside her womb. She and JD took turns holding him, and she’d seen the pain on JD’s face, the tears on his cheeks. He’d dried it up quickly, displayed his tough-man persona, and asked one of the nurses to take a picture. Natalie had held John Allen—she didn’t even try to fake a smile—while JD looked down on their son over her shoulder. The camera flashed, and a tidal wave of grief slammed down. She had never wept so hard in her life, with such painful spasms that squeezed her lungs and burned her throat. She didn’t know which nurse finally took John Allen from her arms, but she hated that woman.

  Natalie could have sworn John Allen had kicked that morning before the appointment. But had he? When had his short life ended? When had the umbilical cord wound itself so tightly around his neck that he lost all his oxygen? When, when had the spark gone out of the tiny beautiful companion of her last nine months? All the reassurances in the world weren’t enough to convince her she hadn’t caused this somehow.

  The door cracked open. Nurse Barbara and JD were talking in the hallway. “Really?” he said. “She’ll be fine to go home tomorrow? OK, good.”

  He sounded like she’d lost something as insensate as her gall bladder. He’d never change. They’d go back home, and he’d act like nothing had happened, while Natalie did the grieving. Then, they’d be back to living together, but apart. She’d thought John Allen might be the one thing that would keep their marriage alive. That final vestige of hope had been strangled away right along with her son.

  JD came back in. He held two cups of coffee and handed her one.

  She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

  He set hers on the table and lowered himself to the chair beside the bed. “I know you’ve missed coffee the last few months. Are you OK? I mean, pain-wise? Do you
need some more meds?”

  He handed her a tissue. She hadn’t even noticed the tears. They came as unconsciously as breathing ever since she realized their son was dead. She held the tissue in her fist and didn’t bother to wipe her eyes.

  “No, I’m fine.” The cramping had lessened since both baby and placenta were gone, but it still hurt worse than a period. She didn’t care. She wanted to feel the pain, to know her loss was real, palpable, and not some twisted, lonely nightmare.

  “I asked the nurse and Doc says you’re OK to be released tomorrow. I can go home and get you some clothes, if you want. Or I can ask Vicki to do it.”

  “That’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Nat…” JD leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees. He didn’t meet her eyes, just stared down at the floor like he was trying to find the words to say on the linoleum. “I’m sorry I wasn’t…there…at the doctor’s office. I’ll take some time off when we get home so I can look after things. You’ll need rest-”

  “I’ll be fine.” She sounded snappy again, but she couldn’t help it. “It’s not like I’ll have to get up in the middle of the night.”

  “I know, but, there’ll be other things. The funeral…”

  “Can you make the arrangements?”

  “Yeah.”

  She took a deep breath and stared up at the water-stained ceiling tiles. “We’ve been drifting apart for a long time.”

  “What?”

  “I need some time to sort things out.”

  “OK, but I don’t understand. Do you need me to step out for a while? I can stay in the waiting room and give you some time…”

  “No, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “OK, so what do you want me to do, Nat?”

  “After the funeral, when everything’s finished, I think it’s best if we separate for a while.”

  “You’re too upset right now. You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He sat up straight and finally met her eyes with that emotionless expression he had learned from his father. Was he upset? Angry? She couldn’t tell when he got like this. Just once, she wanted him to argue back, stand up and shout, tell her how wrong she was. “I’ve worked hard to give you all I can. I know we need a new deck and a new dishwasher, and your car—I promise I’ll get the oil leak fixed.”

  “That’s not it. Yes, you work hard. I admire you for that. But, that’s not what’s missing from our marriage.”

  “What is it, then? I can’t bring John Allen back. What’s missing, Nat?”

  Tears made hot tracks down her cheeks again. “You.”

  Chapter Three

  The day before the funeral, Natalie entered the nursery for the first time since before John Allen died. She had to pick out an outfit for John Allen and a little keepsake to bury him with. Everything looked the same—all ready and waiting for a baby that wasn’t meant to be. She heard JD’s footsteps behind her.

  “Hey, you OK?”

  Natalie stood over an open drawer, staring down at all the tiny clothes, the blues and yellows, stripes and polka dots. “I don’t know what to…I just don’t know.”

  “How about this?” JD bent down and picked up the satchel they had all packed and ready for delivery day—it had never even made it to the hospital. He unzipped it and pulled out John Allen’s “going home” outfit that JD’s mom had given them at the baby shower. It was a tiny white onesie with blue polka dots and Daddy’s #1 Boy printed on the front.

  She searched his face for any trace of…anything. He wore a slight frown and turned his head away from her.

  “OK,” she said.

  On the shelf above the dresser, Natalie found the stuffed white bunny her dad had given her the Easter before he died. It was a little dingy with age, but it smelled like happier times—like fresh grass and funnel cakes—like all those places where it had once accompanied her.

  Soon as she took it away from her nose, she wilted into a crying fit. JD wrapped his arms around her, standing still and quiet, like a stiff support for her fragile disposition. He had never handled emotion well, not even when his own heart was broken.

  She pulled away from him, pushed him back, and screamed, “Goddamn it, JD, just say something! I can’t carry your pain and mine!”

  He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I never asked you to,” he said, and then he walked out.

  For two weeks and a day after John Allen was laid to rest, they pretended to be man and wife, doing all those necessary evils that went along with the death of a loved one. When they touched, it was perfunctory at best—a stiff hug, a dry kiss, a platonic clasp of the shoulder, like he might give a colleague. She’d have given her last breath to feel JD’s arms around her—not out of duty, but out of love and shared pain. That didn’t happen. She didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer.

  She tried to follow Vicki’s advice, her reassurances that he’d “come around,” but he showed no signs. Silence stretched between them like a rubber band about to break. Whenever they were alone, she tried to get him talking. She’d ask him how he felt and tell him how she felt, but he was always “fine”, and he’d go mow the yard or paint the fence. At night, he sat at the computer until well after she’d fallen asleep, reviewing spreadsheets from the district office. JD’s eyes grew red and baggy, but she came near him, he stiffened and focused that much harder on whatever he was working on. Forever acting the part of the strong man.

  The morning JD was supposed to return to work, he grabbed a bagel and coffee and practically ran for the door.

  She stopped him on the porch. “I want a divorce.”

  He looked over his shoulder, turned those puffy eyes on her, and shook his head. Could he get any heartfelt words out, she wondered? “Nat, you don’t-“

  “I can’t do this anymore! I can’t keep floating around you, hoping things will be different. They won’t be. You can’t wait to get back to work and away from here. From me.” Her throat tightened, her eyes burned—another painful cry was coming, but she couldn’t stop it. “I’ll go to Vicki’s-“

  “No…I’ll go. If this is what you want, I’ll pack a few things and go to Dale’s. He’s leaving for a couple of months for a consulting job anyway. Maybe in a few days, we can talk this out.”

  “We have never talked anything out. I’m calling a lawyer today. Goodbye, JD.” She didn’t wait for him to say anything, and he didn’t try to stop her as she walked back inside. She shut the door and, with her back against it, slid down to the floor. JD’s truck started up, backed out of the drive, and travelled down the road until all was quiet again. There she cried, lying across the Home is Where Your Heart Is mat, until she had no tears left. Once she could breathe steadily again, she got up and went to the computer to find the number for that attorney she’d met at last year’s Christmas party.

  ****

  Four weeks passed with nothing for JD but an empty bed at Dale’s place and the residual bleary-eyed waking of being exhausted but energized by hours-ago coffee. He woke on a rainy Tuesday morning, his arm stretched across the cold pillow beside him, and he remembered:

  “Did you feel that, JD?”

  “Yeah—he’ll be a strong boy.”

  “I’m so excited. Are you?”

  “Yeah.”

  He would wait until she fell asleep. Then he’d put his palm on her warm belly and marvel at their son’s kicks and wiggles—at the life they had created together—while his beautiful wife snored. She hadn’t even complained about all the pregnancy symptoms. She was so strong, so strong, and he loved her, and he worked harder to be worthy of his good woman. That’s what his dad did, and what he had taught JD. He’d never resented his dad for working long hours. He’d always admired him for that. He had thought Nat shared that mindset. She worked hard with kids too, which was one reason he had known she was good for him.

  Work was home now, pretty much. When he got to Elbridge Jones High School, there was always something to keep
his mind occupied. He had staff to delegate, parents and administrators to mollify. Constant paperwork and data entry of sensitive columns of numbers that mattered a lot to people who saw kids as quantifiable things. He played that game because he had to and he was good at it, but kids were more than stacks of numbers and passing rates.

  And his kid — his kid was dressed in polka dots in a wooden box under the bluegrass of a cold memorial park. All he had of John Allen was a photo he couldn’t bear to look at and that reduced his mother to sobs. Every day she called him and cried. He was the one who’d lost his firstborn son, and apparently his wife, too.

  “Go back to her, JD,” she’d beg.

  “She’s filed for divorce, mama. It’s not that simple.”

  “You love her, and she loves you—that’s all you need.”

  “I guess sometimes love’s not enough.”

  She said he wasn’t there for her. He didn’t understand it, and since he didn’t understand it, his best bet was to let her think things over. Maybe it was some kind of postpartum depression. She would come out of it in time, and meanwhile, he would work hard, and be a man.

  At home he thought about that as his eyes burned late into the night, but at work he thought about a purely aggravating problem, the loss of Mrs. Jessup. It was hard to provide calm leadership when your secretary was Mrs. McCarthy. The woman didn’t know her backside from a banana muffin. He had applied repeatedly for a new secretary, and had begun to suppose the District office downtown was withholding one from him in order to ensure Elbridge Jones wouldn’t outperform other district high schools whose principals were more popular with the higher-ups.

  When a new secretary actually showed up, he didn’t even realize she was there to work, but left her standing on the wrong side of the counter in the main office while he rushed from computer terminal to terminal trying to find out where a document was saved. The office computers weren’t networked anymore; of course they weren’t. District procedure to ensure confidentiality and protection of records, including, apparently, confidentiality and protection from him. Mrs. McCarthy was at lunch, which usually took her about three hours because she apparently had a problem with the toilet. JD saw a young woman had come in and was leaning over the counter awkwardly waving at him, but he was blinded by his search and thought it was a student.