Something Tangible

Pregnant Pause

AUTHOR'S WARNING: Time for the story to get serious. The next two chapters deal exclusively with infertility. They may be long and boring to some or painful to others who've experienced this. But they give an unvarnished view of pregnancy loss and form the backbone of Katarina and Steven's story and how they start to overcome their demons. I hope it doesn't get tedious but this is actually how I began this project — as a cathartic outlet, not really as a fiction per se — so bear that in mind. Obviously some of this is autobiographical, while I've taken artistic license with other parts. After the next two chapters, Steven will reveal his back-story and some of his secrets, so the next three chapters are heavy, but integral to the plot. I'm posting the next two chapters at once so that it's more cohesive. I've always said this story was about real people and real problems. Well, it's about to get real! I would love feedback.

Steven spent the week mired in a strategy session — devising ways to get Katarina back. The key is winning her trust. She's obviously holding out on me. She mentioned medical problems in Paris. I'll start there. I've got to finagle — no finesse — it out her and then she'll let me back in ... to the bedroom.

Katarina spent the week wrestling with her own demons. Her reticence was born of real fears. She had embarked down the path of commitment before and knew what it entailed: all the passion, fights, angst, discoveries and the zeal of young love that evolves into life-affirming devotion or, occasionally, devolves into heartbreak.

She was in the bathroom primping for a job interview, trying to make her scrunchie-held ponytail look as professional as possible, when she stopped to stare at her reflection. Can I really start from scratch with someone new? Someone like Steven? I'm not 19 anymore. I'm weathered, tired. I've got 16 years of beautifully fucked-up baggage weighing me down.

Sitting at the large, wood-carved desk in his study, Steven ignored his double-paneled computer screen with a stock market ticker tape running along the bottom and contemplated where he'd gone wrong with Katarina. I spooked her. I came on too strong, too fast. You've got to be subtle Steven. This has to be done delicately or you'll scare her off even more.

A symbol on the ticker tape caught his eye, and he picked up the phone. "Jill, get the arbitrageur to short sell Yian Telecom before their merger goes through but make sure they've got all the antitrust clearances. I expect the paperwork in my inbox in 30 minutes," he ordered before slamming down the receiver.

Delicate was going to be difficult.

That Friday night, their reunion was tense, a cloud of unspoken recriminations permeating the air. The minute Steven took Katarina into his arms for a hug that slightly exceeded the bounds of friendship, delicate went out the window. Fuck the friend zone. I'm bulldozing my way back into that bedroom. Game on Ms. Constantine!

"Is this place OK?" Steven asked as he pulled her chair out in the cozy, mid-priced restaurant he'd strategically chosen.

"It's great. It reminds me of those Irish pubs I loved in Dublin!" she squeaked excitedly.

Oh I remember baby. Checkmate Steven!

The hedge fund impresario was ruthless in his pursuit of the truth, plying Katarina with wine and questions, but she was Romanian and a journalist and could hold her own on both counts. When Steven asked about the faded scars he'd seen on her abdomen, she vaguely dismissed them as "an old minor surgery from years ago." When he hounded her about "sob stories," referencing their very first conversation, she reminisced about Paris and planes.

"I'm always careful when I eat Shepherd's pie. Once I got food poisoning from lamb and spent a week in the hospital. Do you have any idea what it's like to be stuck in a hospital room for that long?" he said casually, continuing their intricate dance.