Once we arrive, Alex parks the car in the underground parking and we take the lift together in silence to head to the highest floor.
After stepping into the condo, Maria crosses the hallway to greet us and seems quite happy to see Alex and I together. She beams, clasping her hands in front of her and asking if we are still having dinner tonight. Alex confirms, walking past the two of us to pour himself a drink. I settle into the couch to wait, continuing to look things up regarding Baby B’s illness.
“Has everything been alright here? Are you comfortable?” Alex asks between sips of his drinks.
I look up, still distracted. “Huh? Oh, yeah. It's fine.”
Since Alex stays at the condo sporadically, I don’t see him as much as I thought I would once we got home. He won’t even allow us to share a bed as husband and wife, which left me feeling bereft and bitter, but frustratingly, still craving his attention.
Maria breaks the tension momentarily by letting us know that dinner is ready. We head to the table, the tension palpable in the air between us. Dinner is pasta in a creamy, vegan-friendly sauce with roasted broccoli. To my biggest disappointment, Alex gets a roasted chicken breast with his like he couldn’t care less about my thoughts on the matter, and a salad is in the middle of the table for us to share. I shake my head in displeasure, knowing he no longer bothers to keep meat out of my sight. My plate smells delicious, but my stomach is still in a tight ball of anxiety, and I pick at the food, forcing a bite into my mouth here and there.
“Hey,” Alex inquires gently, “is the food okay? You really need to eat more for the babies.”
“What’s it matter?” I sigh, pushing the pasta around on my plate. “Every new appointment, there is something else wrong with them.”
“Don’t talk like that. We’re going to see the surgeon. Things will get better. You’ll see.”
I’m mentally exhausted but fork a bite of salad into my mouth to both appease Alex and have an excuse to not answer while I collect my thoughts. I swallow, biting my lip.
“Do you think she will have a happy life with this syndrome?” I ask, entertaining the idea she could live. “If we can get the TTTS taken care of, of course.” There is a slight wavering in my voice.
“We will give her a happy life, Petra. No matter what is going on between the two of us. We will give them both everything.”
“But the complications…” I sniffle, tapping the corner of my eyes with the linen napkin.
“There are certain issues to look out for, but life won’t be too much different from her brother. Mariana said there are difficulties, but she can live with it, remember?”
Alex tries to sound positive, but I don’t remember Mariana sharing the same optimism. The words heart defect and developmental delays come to mind, and my face falls a little.
“We will have special schooling for her if needed, and top of the line medical care.”
A smile plays at my lips seeing how confident and solution-oriented he is about our little girl, regardless of what Mariana advised us, I’m determined to fight until the end for her. I already lost one baby girl, I can’t lose another one. “I’m glad you are not taking Mariana’s side.”
Alex rolls his eyes, cutting a bite of his chicken. “I respect her greatly as a physician, but she seems a bit too fatalist to me.” As I keep looking at him, I can tell he’s thinking about their interaction. “And that part about the stress just struck a nerve,” he finally admits. “All my sisters were working while pregnant, and their children turned out healthy and fine. She was basically implying that a pregnant woman is some sort of incapacitated creature who can’t deal with any stress from having an active life.”
Despite his statement, I decide to test the waters a little. Maybe I can play it to my advantage and make him move back to our bedroom. “She’s right, though, you know. It’s bad for me to be stressed. The babies feel it.”
But Alex raises his eyebrows at me, seeing my strategy coming miles away. “You know what's stressful? Having a wife that betrayed you.”
Here we go again. “Alex—”
“You might have felt annoyed with my remarks, but this is nothing compared to what you have done to me,” he interjects, before drawing out a breath, visibly hurt. I don’t find the will to reply back, so we just keep quiet and resume to eat in silence.
Despite everything we are going through, at least he seems to have the best intentions for our little girl, no matter what condition she is born with. This is a start, this connection between us from our children. While Alex keeps cutting his food, I revel in the simple fact that he’s here and determined just as I am to fight for the survival of our two babies. It’s nice to have him here. I can’t deny that… it almost seems like things are normal again.
“Petra,” he says, warmth tingeing his tone. “It really will be alright, no matter what. I will not let you go through this alone.”
I try to smile, but Louise’s words filter back to the front of my mind. “I only see death and misery.” I swallow hard, the memory souring Alex’s kind words. How much more death and misery can I endure?
“Thanks,” I tell him, my heart not in it.
Maria clears our plates, and without being asked, sits a small plate in front of each of us. There is a small chocolate torte topped with ruby red raspberries. During any other time, I would have scarfed it down immediately. Instead, I push the plate away, but as soon as I do, something flutters in my stomach.
Eyes wide, I gasp, laying both of my hands on the small swell of my belly. The flutter comes again, feeling like the tiniest bubbles inside of me. I laugh breathlessly, and the table, torte and all, become blurry as my eyes fill with tears.
Alex stands quickly, but I hold up a hand to stop him. “Nothing’s wrong. They’re just moving that’s all,” I tell him, a tiny bit of wonder filling me despite all the bad news I have received today. Alex looks surprised, so he walks around the table and squats down in front of me, never taking his eyes off of me.
“Is that a good thing?” he asks me, and I nod.
“It is. I think—” I let out another airy laugh. “I think they want me to eat the dessert.”
“Well, I guess you should dig in then.” A quick laugh escapes us, and as I look at him, there’s a glitter in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. It makes my heart swell and aches at the same time. He then stands up, and, to my surprise, leans down to give me a long kiss on the head. It’s a simple gesture, but I’d missed it terribly.
Feeling a little lighter for the first time since the doctor's appointment, I pull the torte back to me and eat it happily. And it tastes incredible.
Chapter 19
Manhattan, March 12, 2021
Petra Van Gatt
It has been two weeks since the appointment with Mariana and my spirits haven’t lifted much. Alex has been in and out of the condo and just as distant as usual, except I can feel the pity radiating off of him. It’s the last thing I want from him, but the only emotion he seems to be able to give aside from hatred.
With the jury selection for his trial taking the whole week, I’m positively surprised he’s still coming home from time to time to have dinner together. I wish we could have a serious conversation about the trial and what my testimony means to our future, but there’s so much tension between us that I haven’t dared to tackle the subject.