Cass:I promise you’ll be the first
Red’s truck has to be at least thirty degrees Celsius when I hop in. His face is flushed and he seems uncomfortable, but it feels so amazing on my chilled bones I have a hard time feeling guilty.
Rubbing my hands along my thighs, I say, “Ready to meet our kid?”
“Fuck no. But I’m excited, too.” He looks over at me. “What about you?”
“No words exist to describe the weird mix of feelings I’m experiencing.”
A puff of air blows from his nose in agreement. At least if there’s one thing we can both be consistent about, it’s feeling overwhelmed. Rather than our usual easy conversation, today’s stilted and jittery. As if we drank twelve cups of coffee each before having to sit still in the truckfor an hour. I can’t speak for him, but all I’ve had is a single half-caff while I was prepping the bar for Dad this morning.
“Supposed to snow tonight.”Great.He’s resorted to small talk about the weather.
“Yeah, that’s what Dad said. Gave me a good lecture about driving in winter conditions, as if I haven’t lived in Canada my whole life.”
“I know we talked about going out for dinner, but maybe we should skip it so we don’t get caught in the storm.”
“Oh.” Logically, I understand where he’s coming from. But I also wanted today to feel more special somehow—not the same as every other typical doctor visit, where I drive home stuffing my face with French fries. “Right, yeah. Good call.”
“It’s not the same, but I can make dinner.”
I plaster on a pretend smile. “As long as we can stop at the store and get some root beer. We’re temporarily off the potato train and fully on team ice-cold root beer.”
“As if you aren’t permanently shivering as it is. But, all right, root beer takes a lot less effort than scalloped potatoes, so I won’t complain.”
Arriving at the ultrasound clinic without a second to spare, they bring me into the back immediately, leaving Red, with his tense expression and anxiously bouncing knee, in the front lobby. It’s the same ultrasound room I was in last time—complete with vintage landscape paintings lining the walls and an uncomfortable leather exam bed. I don’t hate the artwork as much today. Almost as if the little trees and snow-capped mountains became less ugly and foreboding, somehow.
“New paintings?” I ask as I lie back on the bed and Heather, the cheery sonographer, squirts a dollop of warm gel on my stomach. Or maybe it’s cold—I’m pretty sure I remember it being cold last time—but my body is in a state of perma-frost, so most things feel relatively warm on my skin lately.
“Nope. Been there since long before I started here. Are you wanting to find out the sex or keep it a surprise?”
“Um, yeah. We’re finding out.” The memory of Red’s response to me asking him that question makes my heart skip. Then I close my eyes and try not to let anxiety get the better of me. Although all I want to do is ask if things seem okay every ten seconds.
“I’m looking at the boring stuff right now. Measurements, close-ups… a bunch of things that’ll look like blurry blobs to you. Just about done here, then I’ll grab your husband and show you the fun stuff.”
I open my mouth to correct her, but my brain’s fried mush, unable to form a thought. I zip my lips shut, tucking my left hand under my thigh to hide the ringless finger, and revel in my pretend life for a moment.
“Perfect. Hang tight and I’ll bring him in.” She stands and walks out, leaving me alone with my racing pulse and anxiety-ridden thoughts. I pull my clammy left hand out from under me and dry it on my leggings. The deodorant I put on this morning suddenly doesn’t seem enough for the amount of stress sweat pouring out of me.
And then, before I’ve even noticed him entering the room, Red grabs my hand. Letting his other fall to my thigh like it’s the most natural resting place in the world and sending a rush through my entire body. For what may be the first time in weeks, not a single part of me is cold. I’m scorched. Flushed from head to toe.
“Okay, here’s baby.”
I’m pretty sure I black out. I can’t even be totally sure what I’m looking at, or whether the blurriness is in my eyes or the monitor. But, when I finally focus, it’s pretty undeniable there’s a small human there. Ten fingers, ten toes. A head so big and round, I’m already silently praying for my vagina. We watch a tiny heart beating, the rhythmic sound filling the room. And, just when I think I’m somehow not going to cry during this, I glance over at Red.
“Shut up,” he murmurs before I’ve even said a word, frantically wiping his teary face with the sleeve of his jacket.
“Shit, now you got me crying. You softie.” I reach to delicately dab away the tears brimming my eyelids.
The sonographer clears her throat. “Alright, I’m going to print off some photos and get the envelope with the sex inside. If there’s any concerns or the need for some more scans, your doctor will be in touch.” She hands me a damp towel, and I’m made suddenly aware that I’m exposed from just under my breasts to my pubic bone. My belly’s not particularly big, but it’s also not a cute baby bump yet. Definitely not something I’m interested in showing off. Blair gets “bumpdates”, but that’s different from Red seeing me this way.
With a steady grip on my hand, he pulls me into a seated position and waits as I clean myself up, the dopey expression never leaving his face. For half a second, I consider kissing him to see what it would feel like to be a couple whowantsto be in this situation. But I don’t because we aren’t.
So much of the weight has been lifted when we leave the stuffy exam room and walk into the crisp, autumn air. All the awkwardness from the drive here vanished the moment we saw the baby.
“I don’t think I can wait to look.” Red holds the envelope up to the quickly setting sun, desperately trying to sneak a peek through the thin paper. Light, glittery snow drifts around us, settling on our shoulders and Red’s tousled hair.
“Then give it to me if you can’t control yourself.” I reach out to grab it, and he pulls his arm away, then raises it above his head. Too high for me to ever be able to reach.
