Death and Other Interruptions

Chapter Twelve

If my life were a series of absurd events, now would be the time to get a knock on the door. Since it lately has qualified as exactly that, there was at that moment a knock on the door, interrupting the lull that had followed my announcement.

Mom, Amy and I were all busy looking from one face to another, so Julia slipped out and got the door. I heard a man's voice, then Julia came back into the kitchen followed by the detective who had interviewed me at the station that day. Mom and Amy, still speechless for the first time in either of their lives, simply looked at him, bewildered.

"Hi, Officer," I chirped, enjoying my upper hand. What was his name?

"Kelly! Hi, Officer Kelly."

"Miss Shore," he bent his head slightly. "It's good to see you again. I'm sorry to come into your mother's home like this, but you weren't at your apartment and, well, I felt the need to apologize."

Now I was bewildered. Apologize for what?

He took off his cap and crossed his arms over it, standing with his legs apart as if at attention.

"Ma'am, I'm not here on official business from the department. I came because I felt you've

been ill-treated, and I believe I bear some of the responsibility for that. I'm sure you've heard by now that your fiancé's name has been cleared. I had requested to head the team that led that particular investigation after I met with you. Your fiancé, by all accounts, was a good man and he deserved none of the treatment that he received, and neither did you. I apologize for all the pain you've been subjected to, and I apologize for the public's involvement in your personal loss. I hope, Miss Shore, that you can accept this apology, and that you and your family can go about your lives now in a more normal fashion."

Kelly finished delivering his soliloquy. I half expected him to salute and click his heels together.

"Well, thank you Officer." This wasn't at all what I had expected, but somewhere in the back of my head, the part that wasn't preoccupied with my newfound pregnancy, appreciated what he was trying to do. What he was successfully doing, in fact.

"Yes, thank you," Mom said, standing up and returning to her usual self. "It was very thoughtful of you to stop by. As I'm sure you can understand, my daughter is having a bit of a personal moment here. I'll escort you to the door."

She came back and looked at me again, her face once again set in confusion.

"Well, this is all, uh, unexpected," Mom finally said.

Amy's face looked pained as she tried to articulate her question diplomatically.

"How far along are you?" she finally came up with. She wanted to know if it was Al's.

"Two weeks," I said, because if I can't have fun with this I'll lose my mind. They both hurriedly rearranged their faces out of their initial expressions of shock and into matching looks of polite tolerance. Mom's mouth gaped open and shut twice, each time about to start a sentence and each time changing her mind.

Julia stifled a laugh. If they'd thought about it long enough, they would be laughing too. There was no possible way I could be two weeks pregnant, barring a new religious leader forming in my womb.

"Ah," Mom said. "Well," said Amy at the same time.

I rescued them. "I'm joking. I'm probably eight or nine weeks pregnant. But that reaction was priceless."

"That was unnecessary, Jennifer," Mom said sternly. I welcomed her reproof. It was miles better than sympathy. Turning aside, she asked, "Amy, do you have a doctor Jen can see? From when you lived here?" Of course, the first reaction was to form a plan, not emotional support. The normalcy of that was surprisingly comforting.

My own gynecologist wasn't an obstetrician. I was impressed that my mother remembered that. But then, she remembers everything, always asking after friends I had mentioned once, long after I'd forgotten about them myself.

"How are you feeling?" Mom asked, eyes flitting down to my stomach as if looking for proof of this child's existence.

"Fine, actually," I answered. I hadn't thought about that. "I guess my appetite's been off lately, but I figured that was because of the whole mourning thing."

"There's been a lot on your mind," Julia spoke for the first time, hesitantly encroaching on the family moment. "It makes sense that you didn't notice."

Mom and Amy nodded, still too taken aback to question where Julia had come from and why she was involved.

"I'm going to go call my doctor," Amy finally said, and slipped out of the room. "At least Al's life insurance will come through now that he's not guilty," Mom pointed out.

And just like that, my announcement was over. Mom and Amy set about closing the books and laptop, easily setting aside what had been weeks of work. Practical efficiency took over, as it always did, the emotional moment of life and death turned into doctors and life insurance. I took a moment to mourn the loss of the fleeting superiority knowledge had granted me.

Julia gave me a hug and a moment later was gone. I respected how immensely attuned she was to when she was needed and when she was wearing out her welcome.

An hour later we were in Amy's car on the way to her former doctor. Either she was having an affair with this doctor or she'd told the receptionist about my special circumstances. There was no other way a doctor would agree to see a new patient the same day they called up. And considering Amy's incredible homophobia and the rather female name of this Dr. Miriam Gonzalez, I was betting it was the second option. Although it would be pretty amazing if Amy turned out to be a latent lesbian. It hadn't occurred to me that my sister could be sexual enough to have preferences, but it was certainly possible. I went off into a short daydream of that reality and enjoyed the idea immensely. Amy, upon asking what I was smiling about, was considerably less amused.

The nurse—technician? Whoever was wearing the scrubs and staring up my vagina. I'd been dreading that question the whole way over. That, and wondering if she was going to mistake Amy for my partner. Today had a certain lesbian theme to it.

"Well, you're definitely pregnant," she said, her face covered in professional cautious cheer. It was an impressively balanced expression and I wondered if she practiced it in the mirror when she got her job. She'd clearly seen her own share of pregnant women who had no interest in being happy about their condition, because she didn't overdo the enthusiasm. "The doctor will be in to see you soon," she added, and slipped out discreetly, leaving a picture on the screen.

I looked at the screen with the gray blobs on it. I had no idea what the images meant, but apparently there was a baby in there somewhere. A fetus, really, but the technical distinction was lost on me. Al and I had created a life, and then his was taken from him, from me—from this innocent new life growing inside of me. Yesterday I was fighting to clear my dead fiancé's name and today his name is cleared, I barely care, and I'm growing his child inside me. I need a bloody secretary to keep track of my life.

Amy came up next to me and rested her hands lightly on my shoulders, bringing me back to the present. Without speaking, we looked at the gray, blurry shapes together. It was a rare moment between us. I appreciated her instinct not to say anything, and together we watched in silence as life grew within me.