“Sure, let’s play.” I smirk. “Unless you’re afraid to lose that is.”
Matt scoffs, taking my hand and leading me over to the dusty chess board. He brushes it off with his hand, the dust motes floating in the air and twinkling in the sunlight beaming through the windows. It’s almost like a movie scene, the young couple whittling away long hours together in an enchanted library. Except, it isn’t like that at all. I’m just the pregnant high-profile wife who made the news for testifying against her own husband, putting his future in total jeopardy, and Matt is my friend who probably just hangs out with me out of pity.
No, absolutely not. I am not going to think that way right now! The real world is too harsh, and these quiet moments with Matt in a forgotten part of the library are a respite I desperately need. I plop down in one chair, pushing past Matt so I can get the white pieces. Matt rolls his eyes and takes his place on the black side, and we get to work.
The hours pass quickly, the two of us filling the silence with memories and stories from our past. My cheeks start to hurt from all of my smiling. We set the pieces for a second game, when suddenly the lights go off with a mechanical click, the library only illuminated by the floodlights in the corners and the pale evening sun. But we keep playing. After all, we have a game to finish. Each move is more calculated and pondered than our last game. I take my tower decidedly and move it. Matt heaves, his face overly serious as he tries to figure out what I’m up to.
“Excuse me,” I hear from behind Matt.
Looking above his shoulder, I see the librarian, her coat and purse gathered in her hands. “The library is closed.”
Matt and I look at each other in shock, and, in a quick move, he glances at his watch before making a grimace.
“P, it’s nine pm,” he says, totally astounded. “I can’t believe we stayed here so late.” He jumps up and starts gathering his things.
His serious tone makes me laugh. “Mr. Bradford, I can’t believe you’d take advantage of my precious time like this.” I gasp, laying the back of my hand over my forehead dramatically. He shoots me a dirty look with a hint of a smile, and we head out of the darkened building. As Matt holds the door for me, my stomach rumbles audibly, and I groan in embarrassment.
Matt chuckles, “You want to go get something to eat?”
I do, actually, but I’ve wasted so much of Matt’s time already today. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just have Maria make me a sandwich at home.”
“Nonsense. I know this outstanding Indian restaurant a few blocks away. They are open pretty late. What do you think?”
I power on my phone and wait a few moments to see if Alex has decided to contact me. As I suspected, there is no message. I mentally shake off the pang of sadness that pierces my heart and pocket the phone again. “Alright, Mr. Bradford. Indian it is. Let’s go.”
The inside of the restaurant is sparsely decorated, but the wonderful smells make up for it. I know that this food is going to give me heartburn later on, but oh well. Worth it. We seat ourselves in a booth with cracked red pleather seats and turn the single page menu over to peruse the offerings. I order the chickpea curry with a level zero spiciness, and Matt gets vegetarian tikka masala, level two spiciness. We also split an order of garlic naan bread.
I suck my mango lassi happily while waiting for the food. Matt is following up with a few emails on his phone, and I use the time to check my phone yet again for any word from Alex. I feel nothing––no sadness or anger––when the screen is predictably blank. Matt looks up from his phone to see my carefully neutral expression.
“Are you alright over there?” he asks.
“Yes. It’s just…” I sigh, taking another long drink. “I’ve got some stuff going on, you know?”
Matt’s gaze flicks down to my belly and quickly back up. “How is the pregnancy going? You haven’t been telling me much.”
I roll my glass between my two hands, the ice clinking as I figure out how to explain everything without spending the entire night here. “It isn’t ideal. You know I’m carrying twins. One of them is stealing nutrients from the other, making the other baby weaker and less likely to survive. It’s called Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome, or TTTS. We saw a surgeon that should have been able to fix the problem, but the umbilical cords are too close, and the surgery puts both babies at a greater risk.”
Matt blanches, reaching out to hold my hands. “My God, Petra, I had no idea.”
I squeeze his hands as I continue, “That isn’t all. The donor baby, the one having nutrients taken from her, developed something called Turner Syndrome. It’s a genetic condition that will cause her to be a little stunted growth wise, among other things.” I take a deep breath, feeling my emotions starting to get the best of me. “It’s like the cards are stacked against us.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been treating you this whole time like everything is normal, but you’re going through so much.”
“I haven’t been thinking too much about the pregnancy, honestly. I’m so afraid I’m going to lose them both that I don’t want to get too attached.” I pull my hands from his and dash the tears from the corners of my eyes.
We sit in silence for a while, but Matt clears his throat and I look up to meet his hazel eyes.
“You know I’m here if you need anything. Seriously, anything. A ride to the doctor, a midnight craving, whatever you want I’m here for you.”
My lips curve up at his kindness. “I know you are. It makes me feel even worse for not telling you all of this.”
“Don’t feel bad, it’s an unbelievable burden for you, I’m sure.” Matt’s face is open and attentive, ready to listen to anything I have to say. “Didn’t you say you had a doctor's appointment coming up? Do you need a ride?”
For a crazy moment, I almost tell him yes. Alex would be apoplectic if I had Matt take me instead of him, but it’s what my husband deserves for leaving me alone like he has. But they are Alex’s children too, and he deserves to know what is going on.
“Thank you, but no. Alex and I go to the appointments together. It’s the only thing he has been consistent about.”
Matt leans back in his seat with a pissed-off look on his face. No doubt thinking about how awful my pregnancy has been and how little Alex has been around. “Okay, if you say so. But if he lets you down, you know I’m just a phone call away.”
The server brings our food, and even though my stomach has become very upset from the pregnancy talk, I tear off little pieces of the naan bread to dip in my curry, taking small bites until my appetite returns. I watch Matt from under my eyelashes, taking in his ruffled hair and clean-shaven face. For a split second, I wonder if Alex and I had never been more than godfather and goddaughter, if I’d have considered giving Matt the chance he so obviously desired to have with me. He has been a one-man support system for me lately, and my heart is admittedly softening toward him more and more. I want to do something for him, to show him he means so much to me.
“Matt?” I say, an idea springing to mind. “I’m… uh… Alex and I are holding a gala dinner to raise money for other families dealing with Turner Syndrome. I’d really love it if you came.”