I could feel my eyes closing just holding off a second or two to give me time to sink into a lovely spring nap. A shrill sound pierced my ears. Damn that phone. Pretending I hadn’t heard it, I stuffed my index fingers into my ears. That helped but not enough. Shaking my head, I managed a few wobbly steps to the phone, reached it too late. All I got was a dial tone.
That upset me enough to nauseate me. I blinked, sighed and I yelled to the empty room, ‘Oh, my god.’ On the chaise I had left clean, easy to slip on and off clothes for my doctor’s appointment today. Never have I showered so fast. I didn’t even give the water a chance to get warm.
In, out, almost dry and on with my clothes. Going out the door I realized I left my keys upstairs on the bureau. Taking two steps at a time, my spirits drop. There are no keys. Something jangles in my pocket. Am I going off the wall? When did I put them there? ‘Idiot, idiot,’ I call myself and self answers, ‘Right you are.’
I’m not too worried about being late for Dr. Sorenson as he keeps me waiting all the time. Still, I drive a little faster and clip a parked blue Saturn on its rear left fender, making just a long but narrow scratch. It was my fault. There is noone in the car and I can’t sit in mine for heaven knows how long waiting for the owner. In the glove compartment I keep a note pad and pen for emergencies. Small though this one is, I contact my insurance company, leave a note under the windshield for the car owner and go on my less than merry way.
Nausea again overcomes me as I realize I have to prepare myself for telling Eddie what I did. The Medical Arts parking lot is almost full. I circle it twice and then get my first lucky break of the day. A shiny red Lexus pulls out of a nice wide space and I get in. I sit there for a while, gathering the words I’ll need to talk to Eddie. My cell phone connects us. Thankfully he is away from his desk and I leave the minor accident message.
Inside the marble lobby, I ring for the elevator and I am the only one on it going to the tenth floor. Dr. Sorenson’s waiting room is empty. There are no open magazines on the table, no music is playing. The t.v. is dark. Twice I knock on the secretary’s walnut desk. ‘Just a minute,’ she calls. I’ll be right out.’ Sherry, the tech who has escorted me a few times to the examination table, appears wearing street clothes. I hardly recognize her with out her rose colored uniform. ‘Where have you been, Mrs. Bagnid? I tried to reach you several times. Don’t you have a message recorder?’ I reply, ‘We do but don’t. It fell off the kitchen cabinet last week and is out of order. My husband, Eddie, is supposed to bring a new one home tonight.’ ‘ Mrs. Bagnid, the doctor had an emergency and had to leave. You are the only patient we couldn’t reach. We’re sorry.’ ‘Well I’m sorry too,’ I tell her and explain about my rush and small accident. “Nobody was hurt but I am going to get hell tonight. Eddie will be mad because our insurance will go up.’ Sherry ignores me and asks me if I want to reschedule. ‘Of course. I haven’t been feeling well lately and definitely want to see the doctor soon. ‘Can you fit me in tomorrow?’
Safely at home, I prepare our dinner with extra thought, hoping to subdue Eddie’s anger. His favorite Bordeaux I place between two long white candles, matches at the ready for the moment I hear him open the front door. My wild pattern cotton blouse is low and revealing, my slax a little tighter than usual but Eddie likes them this way. Ribs are spiced, ready for the broiler. Salad fixings are set but he is King of Tossers and never trusts me to do it right. The dressing is hot and spicy, chilled just enough.
The front door opens and my husband barely starts to rant at me before I shut his mouth with mine. When our bodies part, I meekly, honestly tell him how sorry I am I hit the Saturn. He holds me close, and asks me what Dr. Sorenson said. I explain about not getting the call from his office, which makes the accident semi-forgotten.
The Bordeaux lasts right to our coffee time. I am dessert.
The Bordeaux lasts right to our coffee time. I am dessert.
At 9 a.m. I wake. Eddie has left. The phone rings and I get there before it stops ringing. ‘Mrs. Bagnid? This is Dr. Sorenson. I apologize for yesterday but the emergency couldn’t wait. Do you recall seeing Mrs. Sollod, the lady with the long blond hair and over rouged face in my waiting room? Well, anyhow, she needed me to deliver her twins, C section. I’m glad to tell you, all is well. And I know you would expect me to be with you if you ever get pregnant, won’t you?’ I don’t remember exactly what I answered but it wasn’t very nice. ‘Okay, then I won’t make any special effort when ,’ and he stops talking. ‘ Mrs. Bagnid, your last report is back from the lab. You ARE pregnant, very pregnant. There are 3 distinct bodies in your pictures. You have time to prepare for triplets.’ I believe I hear myself scream. I am sure I passed out. I remember a black nothing for a while and when I open my eyes, I am lying on the floor with the phone dangling off the cradle.
Putting it back in place, I dial Eddie, tell him the news. He gasps as if he were shot in a dozen places. Then there is total silence until the phone rings again. ‘Honey, I was so excited I think I blacked out. Don’t lift anything. Don’t do anything. Go lie down. I’m coming home now, just as soon as I hang up!’
He comes in with a small box, wrapped in aluminum foil tied with a shoe string for a ribbon. He hands me a new message recorder for the kitchen. In a separate box, wrapped professionally, is a new polor camera to take before and after pictures of our enlarging family.
Sometime, I don’t know when, he takes care of the little damage I did and never brings it up again.
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