Chapter 4

The night before my abortion came before I knew it.

I'd reminded Clay ahead of time.

"Come home early today. There are things we need to settle."

Selling the house. And the divorce.

My best friend had already found a suitable, interested buyer.

My lawyer had already drawn up the divorce agreement.

All it needed was a signature.

Clay agreed over the phone. "Whatever my wife commands, I obey."

"I'll turn down all the overtime today. I'll come straight home the second I'm off work, okay?"

But by eight that evening,

Clay still hadn't come back.

He sent me a voice message, full of apology.

"This overtime dinner really can't be gotten out of, Reese. Can the important stuff wait until tomorrow?"

"We've got all the time in the world anyway."

I said, "It's fine. I'll wait for you."

I waited all night.

It wasn't until five in the morning that Clay sent a message.

He claimed he'd been working late at the office and hadn't finished until one.

Said he didn't want to disturb my rest by coming home so late, so he'd just make do at the office for the night.

And go straight to work the next day.

But when he typed out that message,

he'd clearly just stepped out of the apartment, his ex-wife still doing up his tie for him.

I lifted my head and watched Clay through the car window, waving goodbye to Mary Fletcher.

I didn't call out his lie.

"Sure. Get some good rest."

Clay came home first thing in the morning with the lobster bisque I loved.

Said he'd run all over several streets to find it, from the place whose flavor I liked best.

I took one bite. It tasted like wax.

"So do you have time today to come with me to the hospital for the prenatal checkup?"

He launched into an excited explanation, all about how much he wanted to come with me.

But in the end he still said, apologetic,

"Honey, today's just the busiest day."

"Can we do another day? Tomorrow, or the day after. I'll definitely come with you."

Of course he had no time today.

Because I'd heard the news the private investigator brought me.

His ex-wife had a job interview today.

Clay was worried, afraid a country woman on her own would get taken advantage of, so he was personally taking her around to every company.

And in the afternoon he had to help get that boy set up for his school placement test.

He was very busy.

I gave a knowing little smile.

"Fine. Then I'll go by myself."

Clay got agitated.

"A prenatal checkup is a big deal. Can't it just be moved to another day?"

"Theresa, I really want to be there with you for something like this."

I calmly drew my hand out of his.

"The appointment's already booked."

Clay, brimming with regret, gave me a long list of reminders before reluctantly heading out the door.

And I lifted my head and took a cab straight to the hospital.

The doctor looked up, surprised to see me.

"How is it you?"

"Weren't you so happy just a few days ago to find out you were pregnant? You said you wanted a child."

She looked over my ultrasound. "Six weeks and some. Still very small."

"You're sure you want to end it?"

I nodded.

"I'm sure."

She was quiet for a moment.

"It's a good age to have a child. Why don't you two young ones think it over a bit more?"

I said there was nothing to think over.

She didn't say anything else, wrote up the slip, and told me to go pay.

"There may be some pain after the procedure. Bleeding for about a week. No intercourse for a month."

"Come to the hospital anytime if anything feels wrong."

I nodded, took the slip, and went out.

In the operating room, I closed my eyes.

The last thought before I lost consciousness was:

Clay, you won't be getting the daughter to complete your set.

When I woke again, I was already in the recovery room.

A dull ache in my lower belly, like a period, but heavier.

The nurse beside me asked, "Awake? Does it hurt?"

I shook my head.

"Rest half an hour and you can go. Keep warm when you get home, stay away from cold water."

She handed me a heat pack and told me to hold it against my stomach.

Really something, isn't it.

By the time I left, my belly was already flat.

My phone rang again.

Clay had sent a string of messages, saying once he finished up today, he'd cook for me himself.

He'd bought me spicy hot pot, and tomorrow he'd make me spicy stir-fry when he got home.

He said I liked spicy food, so I was sure to have a daughter.

I just listened in silence.

But he'd forgotten. I don't like spicy food at all.

He was the one who said sour cravings mean a boy and spicy cravings mean a girl.

Set on having a daughter.

Watching the hope in his eyes, I couldn't bring myself to break it.

So I'd forced down all that spicy food.

But now, I didn't have to humor his moods anymore. I didn't have to keep playing along.

"There's no need, Clay."

"No need for what?"

Clay was lost. "Don't forget, the baby in your belly is—"

"The baby's gone."