“Michelle?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but… is your family gonna be a part of our lives going forward?” I asked. Melanie’s cool stare still bothering me. “I’m fine with the occasional dinner, maybe a holiday, whatever. But inserting themselves into our everyday life? They don’t have our best interests at heart. And your sister—she wants us apart. You feel that too, right?”
There was a long pause. “Yes. I know.”
I held my breath, waiting for thebut.
“Since I’ve been here… I can feel myself slipping. Not just into who I used to be—but away from us.” Her voice cracked. “Away from the kids. From you. With my family, it’s never balanced. It’s neversome. It’s all or nothing.”
“So do we give them all or nothing?”
She looked at me, tears welling.
“Scott,” she whispered, “if I give them all… that means erasing you.”
I nodded once. I knew that. I’d always known that.
“So I’ll ask again, Michelle. Do we give them all or nothing?”
Her answer came quiet but certain. “We give them nothing.”
TuckingMichelle in like she was one of the kids, I narrated a bedtime story of the Shaggin’ Wagon reinventing herself as the Back Nine Banger before kissing my wife goodnight. She fell asleep peaceful, safe, and smiling.
I was still too wired to sleep, so I wandered the suite, getting acquainted with luxury. It was a trip. The place even came with a Pillow Menu. Soft. Firm. Hypoallergenic. Lavender-scented. And buckwheat, because apparently, rich people liked to lay their heads on birdseed.
Leaving the pillow menu behind, I played with the electric drapes for a while, opening and closing them until the novelty wore off. Then I retreated to the bathroom and watched a full episode ofThe Fresh Prince of Bel-Airon the TV mounted across from the toilet. Now that was a luxury I could get behind.
On my way back to the couch, I grabbed Michelle’s purse, digging for gum. My fingers caught on a slip of paper. I unfolded it to reveal a name, number, date, and time.
Today’s date.
I stared, trying to make sense of it. The appointment was right around the time of the accident. They must have been headed there when it happened. But for what?PP. What did thatstand for? Pediatrician? No, the kids weren’t with her. Personal… something?
Curiosity got the better of me. I slipped into the bathroom and shut the door, staring at the slip again. PP. The number. Thetime. I picked up the cordless phone mounted to the wall, because of course there was a phone in there, and punched in the number.
The line clicked.
“You’ve reached Planned Parenthood after hours. If this is an emergency, call…”
I hung up instantly, the phone clattering back into its cradle as the words echoed in my head. I stood there, frozen, staring at the tiled floor as the pieces snapped together one by one. She’d known. Michelle hadn’t written “PP” to save herself the extra letters. She wrote it so no one, especially me, would understand.
I stepped back into the bedroom and looked at her—my wife, the mother of my children—peaceful in the soft hotel glow, and I realized she’d lied in the hospital.
Michelle had known she was pregnant.
She’d known…
And had been on her way to end it.
29
MICHELLE: DESTINY’S CHILD
The waiting room looked like it hadn’t been updated since Nixon. The magazines were curled at the corners, the carpet was a suspicious shade of gray-green, and the air conditioner rattled loud enough to drown out the soft rock station playing from a dusty clock radio.
“Well, one thing’s for sure.” Scott leaned close, his voice low but teasing. “We’re not in L.A. anymore.”
