Sad tears.
Angry tears.
Basically, they’re every sort of tear rolled into one. I’m excited and relieved to know there’s a baby inside me, but sad and pissed off at the same time because Ben’s not here to experience this with me. He’ll never hear the sound of our baby’s heartbeat. He’ll never press his hand to my stomach and feel our child moving inside me. So many nevers when I thought I had a life full of forevers.
“I’ll print off some ultrasound photos for you,” Dr. Hershel says. Neither he nor the nurse comments on my tears. I’m sure they get them a lot.
“Thank you,” I croak, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands.
This is really happening, I think to myself.
I leave the doctor’s office and sit in my car staring at the grainy black and white photos. I touch the tiny blob reverently. That’s my baby.
My phone rings from the depths of my purse, and I rifle through it to find the slender silver phone. It’s my mom.
“Hello?” My voice is thick with emotion.
“How’d it go?” she asks. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m definitely pregnant,” I say. “I got to see the baby and hear the heartbeat. The doctor said it was early, but it was so strong, Mom. It’s like the baby knew I needed to hear it.” I sniffle and look for the small pack of tissues I keep in my purse. I pull one out and wipe the dampness from beneath my eyes.
“Oh, sweetie,” my mom breathes in relief. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “I’m happy too, but …”
“But what?” she prompts.
My lower lips trembles, and my knuckles turn white where I grip my phone. “But I wish Ben was here.”
I can hear her intake of breath over the phone. “I know, sweetie. I know.”
I lean my head back, and my throat bobs when I swallow past the lump in my throat. “It’s all so unfair.”
“Blaire,” she says sharply. “Stop it. You can’t do this to yourself.”
I hear her words, but they don’t make much impact. “I’m going to see Loraine,” I tell her. “I want to tell her in person.”
“When will you be home?” she asks me.
“I don’t know. It’ll be a few hours. It’ll take me at least one hour each way depending on traffic, not including the time I spend with her.”
“Just call me when you leave her house,” she says. “I worry about you.”
“I know, Mom,” I whisper. “I will.”
“I love you,” she says.
“Love you too.” I end the call and toss my phone on the seat beside me.
I look at the ultrasound photos one last time before sliding them into the envelope the nurse gave me. I run my fingers through my hair. I know I look like a mess, but there’s not much I can do to make myself look presentable at this point.
I turn the radio up, hoping to drown out my thoughts as I drive to Loraine’s.
When I get there, Jacob’s shiny silver Lexus is in the driveway. My throat catches at the sight. Poor Loraine. I haven’t reached out to her at all. I’ve been so consumed by my own grief that I’ve forgotten about hers.
I go to pull down my sun visor, in the hopes of fixing my makeup since I know mascara is smeared beneath my eyes, and I jolt in surprise when a paper crane begins to fall. My eyes seem to watch it in slow motion as the white piece of paper flutters to my lap. Ben. He always knows when I need him most. Even in death he’s still here when I need him.
My fingers shake when I pick up the paper crane and unfold it.