She stands differently than usual. Maybe that’s odd to notice, but I have always admired her posture. It is confidence and good spinal alignment, like a powerful attorney with good health insurance should have. She usually crosses her arms right under her breasts asif she needs another reason for anyone to notice their voluminous perfection. Now, she leans on one hip, her arms crossed at the wrist over her stomach.
“Are you pregnant?” I blurt.
Her eyes widen, hands flexing on her stomach before she drops them. Then the smile pulls at her cheeks. “How did you know?”
“Because I know you.” I pull her into a hug. Against me, I can feel the tiny bump that hides well under her curves. “And I’m so fucking happy for you.”
She lets out a relieved sigh into my shoulder, hugging me back with the intensity of one hundred unspoken words.
Keisha never said much about her IVF rounds, likely trying to spare my feelings as if I would somehow loathe her for wanting something different than I do. One night, when her moods were swinging like a pendulum, I went to her bathroom to escape her wrath and saw one of the vials in the trash. She admitted they’d started trying almost a year ago. I don’t know how long it takes or the timeline of the treatments, but she doesn’t have to talk about it for me to know how much she has wanted to have a baby.
“When did you find out?” I ask, my voice tight. The news has made me more emotional than expected.
“Months ago. We were waiting to get through the first trimester to tell anyone, which was, like, three seconds before you left.”
She’s more than three months in already. I can’t believe my best friend is going to be a mommy so soon.
“Our last round of IVF was over six months ago. We weren’t planning to do another until next year, and I didn’t think to test until I was sitting in the kitchen at two a.m. eating Takis with boysenberry jam.”
“That’s revolting.” I laugh tears away.
“It is, but it’s alsoso good.” I will not put that to the test. “We weregoing to wait a few more weeks so you’d have time to bask in the joy of your engagement, since no one thought you’d get completely fucked over by—let me stop. Rage is not a healthy emotion to share with baby.”
“That’s your opinion.”
She hugs me again. “Junie doesn’t know yet. We wanted to make a big announcement after you come home.”
So, about that. . .
Junie comes back, grinning at me like I’m not hidingtwosecrets from her.Keisha is having a baby and I don’t want to go home yet. “Ready?” she asks.
~
How am I the first to notice Keisha is pregnant? Sushi is one of her favorite foods, second only to her mother’s egusi—though she may only claim that as her favorite out of fear of retribution—but she has ramen instead of her usual chirashi bowl, and water instead of sake.
There was a time when anything baby-related would make me sad. I had never pictured myself having kids before I got my diagnosis, but hearing that Icouldn’tfelt like the choice was stolen away. After treatment, getting my body back, I found my new life was a gift rather than a loss.
It’s interesting the way our brains make us forget about pain. I’ve almost forgotten the times I spent on the floor of my dorm, the pain so bad I would pass out with my head on the toilet seat, Keisha waking me up after I had missed a whole day of classes. That time I took an exam, trying not to groan in pain while sitting in that silent room, my vision going in and out, yet still ending up with a B.
Every once in a while, I remember the heating pad I kept at my desk during my last office job, my coworker saying, “Wow, the heating pad is out already today?” before I recognized my “bad days”were becomingmostof my days.
Now, I can live my life, I can be physically active, I can enjoy my body. Surgery and a piece of plastic in my uterus gave me my life back. While I will always have this disease, I will never regret my choice to do whatever it takes to avoid those memories becoming my reality again.
“When are you coming back?” Keisha asks.
My original assumption was they were here to bring me back with them. “Soon,” I say.
“How soon? You said you’d be here two weeks, and it’s been almost a month.”
“Leave her alone,” Junie says. “Let her have her rebound moment with her live-in snack. She’ll come back when she’s had her fill.”
Would it be easier to tell them the truth or let them make assumptions? “That’s not—”
“Is he good?” Junie asks. “To be perfectly honest, he looks like he’d be a pillow princess. Prince? Looking pretty while he lies there.”
That’s mean, though the image doesn’t upset me. “I wouldn’t know.”
“You and Liem aren’t sleeping together?” Keisha asks, her jaw dropping as if this headline is more shocking than the baby developing inside her.
