“It was a conflict of interests on my part, I’m afraid. One of the patients was my best friend’s brother-in-law. I know its policy at the department not to treat family members, and although Maggie and I aren’t related, we’re like sisters and we tell each other everything. It didn’t feel appropriate to me,” I said, hoping to God that she’d buy it.
She nodded. “If you were uncomfortable, you did the right thing. Now, is he still participating?”
“No. He withdrew from the group.”
“Have you spoken to him about it?” she asked. “Perhaps he would come back now that Alan is in charge of that section.”
“I did speak to him when I was out at the vineyard visiting Maggie and Danny—my godson. I suggested private counseling with Alan actually if he didn’t want to continue group. He didn’t want to consider either at this time.”
“I wonder why,” she said speculatively, but mercifully didn’t pursue the topic further. “At any rate, I’m glad you could come in and discuss the program with me. I’m certain we can expand it as needed. There really are so many trauma survivors in our region, and it’s an underserved population. There’s a possibility of a grant in the winter for a pilot program to combine trauma counseling with addiction recovery. I’d be interested to see what you made of that if you’d care to write up a proposal.”
“I’d love to. Thank you. And I appreciate your continued support for the trauma recovery program, Dr. Novak,” I said, standing.
“It was good to see you, Layla. I’ll be in touch about the grant criteria.”
“Thank you,” I said again.
As soon as I was out of her office, I ran into the bathroom and got sick. After I got a drink of water and blew my nose, I went down to my office to let Maggie know that everything was okay. When I took out my phone, there were a lot of messages. The first was from my mom who I’d have to call back later. Then there were two from Maggie and one from Sarah Jo. None from Tyler. Not that I expected any, especially since I had told Maggie not to tell him. But I was disappointed. I wanted to tell him it went well. I wanted to tell him so much.
After work, I went to yoga and then changed for margarita night. My heart wasn’t in it, although I did want to tell them all about getting complimented by Dr. Novak. Still, I’d rather say it in a text and take a nap. I was wiped out. Probably from the anxiety I had over the meeting. And the energy it took not to call and text Tyler all the time. He had become weirdly important to me as a sounding board and a confidante. Which was further proof I had acted like an idiot over him.
I shoved open the door to Cecil’s, scanned the room to make sure he hadn’t shown up, and sat down with the girls. I could smell the sour cream in Gracie’s spinach dip, and it made me want to retch. I ordered a coke.
“No margarita?” Gracie offered. I shook my head.
“I freaked out today about meeting with Dr. Novak, which went fine, but I got really sick to my stomach over it. I guess it hasn’t worn off yet.”
“Ugh, I puked twice today,” Maggie groaned, sitting down next to me.
“If we’ve both got it, maybe it’s a flu going around. A summer stomach flu,” I said, relieved, “that explains it. I never puke when I’m nervous, but today I did. It has to be the flu. Maybe we can split some soda crackers later if we get wild,” I joked with Maggie.
“If you have the same bug as me, don’t smell the queso,” Maggie warned. Sarah Jo’s big order of queso arrived at that moment. Warned, I didn’t even look directly at it, although the thought was enough to turn my stomach.
“It has to be the same bug. It isn’t likely there’d be two strains of stomach bug going around in summer.”
Maggie smiled. “I’m knocked up, Lay,” she said. “It’s not the flu.”
I sat there like I’d been shaken hard. Jarred by the idea, I stared at the far wall, right where he had been sitting the last time I saw him. Pregnant. I blinked and remembered to breathe which was remarkable considering the fact that I wanted to scream and crawl under the table and hide. That had to be it. Just like what happened with my mom—she lost her head over a guy and ended up knocked up and alone. I was doomed to repeat history. I had compromised my professional ethics and slept with Tyler, and I was doomed.
I felt myself go cold all over at the realization that I wanted a baby. I wanted Tyler’s baby. It was over with him. I knew that. He wouldn’t ever really forgive me for ditching him, and it wouldn’t work out anyway with my job. He was a former patient. It would look as unethical as it was. And all we really had in common was the attraction. He lived in a tiny one-room cabin. He had a trauma history and no real career path. There were a hundred reasons it would never work, even if he could forgive me and even if I could survive the terror of telling him I was pregnant and if he wanted me despite everything.
I took a drink of my soda and steadied myself, listened to Maggie talk about how Danny was refusing his nap lately. Sarah Jo told a story about her daughter. Sipping my soda and watching my friends, I thought what remarkable people they were, resilient and beautiful. As I looked from one to the other of them, I was so moved by their strength and warmth that I was wiping tears from under my eyes.
“Are you okay?” Sarah Jo said.
“I’m fine. It was just an exhausting day. I don’t really feel like eating, to tell you the truth. Would you be mad if I cut out early? I just want a bath, maybe turn in early.”
“Yea,” Maggie said, “we’ll break your kneecaps, key your car.”
“Give you a wedgie when you least expect it,” Sarah Jo put in. “You can’t leave early. It’s not allowed.”
They laughed, and I laughed with them.
“Go get some sleep, you neurotic mess. You’re not in trouble at work. We’re not mad. We love you,” Maggie said.
I hugged them, congratulated Maggie, and left. I went straight to the drugstore and bought a two-pack of pregnancy tests. I figured Even though I couldn’t sit still to stay with my friends because I was fixated on the idea I might be pregnant, once I got the tests, I didn’t want to take them. As long as I held off on getting results, it might just be a false alarm. I could have thrown up because I was upset or because of a virus. It was unlikely, but those reasons were possible.
I wanted my mom.
I wanted to be able to call my mom and say, How did you do this? How did you make yourself take the test and face it? How is it possible to want a baby as much as I do and still be afraid of how it will change my life?
Her answers would be unpleasant to hear. She’d call me stupid. She’d be angry that I didn’t listen all those years she told me men ruined your life and left you. The comfort I needed couldn’t come from her. Because she had done her best, but she couldn’t be the mom I needed.
I didn’t want to call Maggie because it involved her brother-in-law. So I called Sarah Jo.
“Hey, girl. I just left Cecil’s. You ok?”
“I guess.”
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“I just need you to stay on the phone with me for a few minutes. Can you do that?”
“Yes. Of course. Do you want me to come over? Are you home?”