And I rolled over so my face was hidden in the crook of his neck and sobbed. Because I didn’t. And I felt horrible that I didn’t—like I was betraying biology, like I was betraying society, like I was betraying you, growing inside me.
He held me, and he kissed my forehead and stroked my hair and said it would be okay. But I really had no idea how it would.
15
Emily went to work. She listened as students told her about their anxiety, about their fights with their roommates, about how they missed home. They told her about the racist comments someone made to them in the cafeteria, about how an econ professor called on the men in the class more often than the women. They told her about how they were worried about their friends who drank too much or smoked too much. About being attracted to their TA, about their eating disorders and their depression. She listened, she asked pointed questions, she posed her advice as a “what if?” She tried not to think about what might or might not be happening in her body. She wondered if she was even helping these students. If any of what she said made sense. Or even mattered. She tried not to cry.
Between patients, she would whisper “I love you” and “please be okay” to the cells inside her.
She kept mentally scanning her body for pain or problems. Her back still ached, but other than that, she felt okay.
It’s going to be okay, she kept telling herself. It’s going to be okay.
Even though, deep inside, she was pretty sure it wouldn’t.
xii
Your dad said that I needed to get a blood test, to make sure I really was pregnant, which I thought was ridiculous—I was, the test we took in the bathroom said so, plus I could feel it—but I agreed to go for one. Not on campus, I told him, and not with my regular doctor. So we agreed to go to a clinic.
That weekend Hanukkah was starting, and my dad wanted us to come over for a family Hanukkah dinner—me, Rob, him, and Ari. I knew it wouldn’t be like the Hanukkah parties we had when my mom was alive, but he was trying. And Ari and I were trying, too.
“We can go before dinner at my dad’s,” I said.
So we rented a car, and we drove up the Hudson River to a clinic we’d found on Google.
When we got there, three people with signs were protesting the clinic, which also performed abortions. They were shouting at the women who walked in.
I watched the women cringe, rush past. “I can’t,” I said to him. “I can’t walk in with them shouting at me. Even if that’s not why we’re here, I can’t do it.”
“Not even with me next to you?” he asked. “Not even if I cover your ears? If I sing at the top of my voice?”
I smiled for a brief moment but then shook my head. “Not even then,” I told him. I felt shame enough at being young and accidentally pregnant. I wouldn’t face that anger, even with your dad by my side. He looked at me and sighed. He was so patient, trying so hard. “I understand,” he said, finally. “I wouldn’t want to walk through that either.”
“I really am pregnant,” I said. “I told you—I can feel it. And the test we took confirmed it. We don’t need a blood test.”
The windows were up on the car—it was winter and cold out—but we could still hear the voices chanting, though we couldn’t make out the words.
“Okay,” he said, even though I could tell he wasn’t quite convinced. “But if that’s the case, then you do need a doctor. And we really need a plan.”
“I know,” I told him. “But let’s celebrate Hanukkah at my dad’s tonight. We can talk later, when we drive back to the city.” Back then your grandpa still lived in the house your aunt Ari and I grew up in.
Your dad nodded and turned the key in the ignition. “Of course,” he said.
I knew we had to face the future, face what was happening inside me and what that meant for us. But I wanted to spend an afternoon wrapped in my dad’s love, and then talk to my sister. I grew up looking to her for advice, for guidance. And with your grandma gone, she was the only one I felt like I could talk to.
16
In the late afternoon, Tessa showed up in Emily’s office, the last patient of the day, and the first time she’d made an appointment with Emily since she came back to the city.
“How’s it going?” Emily asked her, after the door was closed, after Tessa sat in her usual spot on the couch, leaning against the left armrest. Emily tried to get comfortable in her chair, discreetly massaging her back as Tessa spoke.
“Not the best,” Tessa said. “I’ll be honest. Not the best.”