Rita cringes, but Lou is oblivious.
After quickly taking my blood pressure, Rita leaves us in the exam room to wait for the doctor. I start to change into the itchy gown, weirdly self-conscious about my mother seeing me naked. She sits in the plastic chair in the corner.
“Speaking of Riley, you talk to her?” she asks as I struggle to tie the gown shut.
“A little.”
“You seen her interview?”
“What do you think, Lou?”
“That poor woman, the mother. Riley looked so pretty though. That skin, I swear. I would kill someone for skin like that, wouldn’t you? You should ask her for some tips.” She pats her pasty cheeks.
This is what we’re talking about? This is what’s important? Beauty tips?
“Well, however beautiful Riley looked with her flawless skin, you understand that interview was not good for us, don’t you, Lou? You’re missing the point.” I’m practically yelling; the patient next door can probably hear me through the paper-thin walls.
“But Riley was doing her job. She’s on the TV. She has to act the part. Like Kim and Khloe.”
“Seriously? Riley’s not an actress and neither are the Kardashians.”
“Oh yes they are. Those girls should get an Academy Award for what they do. And Riley’s gotta do what she does with that fancy job of hers, otherwise they’re not gonna pay her a heap of money.”
“She’s my best friend. She should be watching out for me.”
“Look, I love Riley, but you girls ain’t been around each other much in fifteen years. You’re different people now. Rich people don’t think about people like us the same way.”
“Riley isn’t rich! Besides, Lou, maybe you should be focused on me, your daughter. How about maybe asking how I’m doing?” At least Lou looks chastened.
“I already asked you that.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Well. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. I just really wish Kevin could be here today.” Instead of you. And of course it isn’t fine. But I’ve never confided in my mother and I’m not going to start now.
“Where is he anyway?”
“Just… meetings.” I’m vague. There’s no point in bothering to involve Lou in the details, and I can imagine her reaction if I told her he was meeting with a “head shrinker,” as she calls them. The only thing more ridiculous and useless than therapy in Lou’s mind is electronic cigarettes.
“Well, you need a good lawyer, that’s for sure. Get one of those guys from one of the billboards on Ninety-Five. I wish I had some money to give you.” Lou raises one of her thin eyebrows. She’s always plucked them to a fine arched line that looks as if it was drawn by a satanic cartoonist.
“That’s okay. Cookie and Frank are covering it.”
This comment is sure to sting, and I feel a little charge of satisfaction. Ever since Kevin and I got married, Lou’s been in a strange competition with Cookie that plays out in passive-aggressive jabs. Lou doesn’t like losing at a sport, even if she hasn’t bothered trying to be any good at it.
“Well, okay then, great. He’ll get this mess all cleared up, I’m sure.”
The conversation careens into a brick wall, and we both just sit there, listening to the clock tick. What kind of person doesn’t have anything to say to her own mother? Disappointment washes over me. My mom should be gushing with excitement and advice and plans. When I told her I was pregnant last spring, all she said was, “Well, let’s see if it sticks this time, kiddo. Maybe it’s not in the cards for you.”
“These doctors sure take their sweet time, don’t they?” Lou picks up the file Rita left on the counter.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to look at that.” I have no idea if this is an actual rule, but it feels like one.
“Well, I don’t see why not. These are your files. You have a right to know what they’re saying, don’t you? So, let’s see here…” She holds the paper away from her face like she’s having trouble reading. “Baby Boy Murphy. He’s cute.” Lou holds up an ultrasound photo and continues to talk, unfazed. All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears.
A boy.
A boy.
A boy.
“Jesus Christ, Lou!”
“Oh, shit.” Lou realizes what she’s done and has the decency to look ashamed. “I didn’t—”
“You didn’t remember that we wanted the sex of the baby to be a surprise?”
A pure and perfect rage begins in my gut and rises up to my head with such pressure it might just explode. Of all the shitty things Lou has done, this may be the worst. Leave it to her to ruin what was supposed to be one of the best moments of my life, one of the only happy things I have to hold on to right now.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think…”
I can’t hear another word. I hold up my hand to stop her from talking and fall back onto the table to let the news sink in. I’m having a baby boy.
Riley and I initially liked the name Jackson for a boy, Jack for short. For a girl, Adeline, Addy for short. But Kevin has had only one name in mind for a boy: Chase. Suddenly, in this moment, I can’t imagine my baby being called anything else.
Knowing it’s a boy, that it’s Chase, makes it real in a new and terrifying way, and all the worst-case scenarios come rushing back. Thankfully, there’s a loud knock on the door right then, and Dr. Wu strides in, all warm efficiency and brisk purpose.
“Hello?” she says tentatively. It’s clear she senses the tension. She casts Lou a look, unsure of her relationship to me.
“Hi, Dr. Wu. This is my mom, Louise. Kevin had a meeting.”
There’s no way Dr. Wu doesn’t know what’s going on with Kevin, but her face doesn’t give anything away. She extends her hand to Lou and offers her congratulations.
“Your first grandchild?”
“Yes. Thank God! A boy!”
Dr. Wu looks over at me quizzically. She knows it was supposed to be a surprise.
“My mom looked at the file. She accidentally ruined it.”
“Ruined it? I mean, you’re still having a baby.” Lou sounds like a defensive teenager. “And this way you can plan. Surprises are overrated. You were a surprise, and I cried for three days straight.”
Dr. Wu musters an amicable laugh and then trains all her focus and attention on me like I’m the only thing that matters to her. This is why I love my doctor—she looks you in the eye, talks to you like she has all the time in the world, as if there aren’t forty other women in the waiting room.
“How are you feeling?” she asks now.
Like I want to murder the woman who gave birth to me. But that’s not what I say; what I say is: “I’m having a boy.” As if I’m breaking the news to Dr. Wu.
“Yep, looks like that cat’s out of the bag. You are.” She sounds genuinely happy for me. “So let’s get everything checked out and see how he’s doing in there.” She pulls out a blood pressure cuff.
“Rita already did my vitals.”
“I know. I just want to check them again.”