Page 74 of Demo
OK, one thing at a time.I wadded up a bunch of toilet paper and stuck it in my underwear, then pulled up my pants, grabbed my purse and phone from the living room, and headed out toward the car. I noticed unread messages from Knox but ignored them as I pulled the doctor’s number back up and hit “call.”
Since it was after-hours, I got a call service, and a very chipper young lad took my information and assured me someone would call me back very soon.
I had already pulled onto the street and as I waited at a red light, I looked at the missed texts from Knox.
How were “drinks” with Dee? You didn’t give our little one his or her first shot, did you?
He added a little laughing face emoji to let me know he was kidding.
A few minutes later he sent an ellipsis.
Damn, I see how it goes. A girls’ night out and the guy gets the cold shoulder
Then another.
No worries, have fun. Just text me when you’re home for the night. Or call me, and I’ll tuck you in {wink face emoji}
A car horn beeped to let me know the light had changed to green.
I surged forward and made my way to the Walgreens down the road, just as a call came through. I answered it as I turned into the lot. “Hello?”
“Hello, Ms. Tanner?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“This is Dr. Agastino, returning your call. I understand you’re having some bleeding, and you are … about eight weeks along?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I said as I navigated the parking lot.
I parked the car and sat in the darkness as I answered all of the doctor’s questions and she told me what I basically already knew: I was likely miscarrying, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. She told me to go into the office first thing the next morning.
Wiping tears off of my face, I hung up the call and headed into the pharmacy. I made my purchase and used the bathroom inside—which only made me panic more. Then I made my way back to the car. I felt bad that I left Knox hanging, and I knew I needed to clue him in.
I needed to tell him he was no longer going to be a father.
It’s funny; I was terrified to tell him I was pregnant. You’d think telling him that was no longer the case would be easier. But I knew everything was about to change.
Again, using that freaking telepathy he seemed to have, my phone rang out as I sat in my running vehicle in the parking lot. I cleared my throat and gathered my courage. “Hey,” I answered, bringing the phone to my ear.
“OK, here’s the thing,” Knox started right in, “you’re going to have to get a little better at responding to my communication. I’m trying not to hound you, but I worry.”
When I was silent, he pressed, “Lizzie?”
When I still didn’t respond, he asked again, “Lizzie? Did I lose you?”
I took a ragged breath, which he must have heard. “OK, baby, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“Knox …” I tried to talk but all the words got stuck in my throat.
I heard rustling on the other end of the phone, then his voice was closer and panicked. “Lizzie, talk to me? Are you still out? Or are you home?”
“I’m in the car. Knox …”
“Did something happen?”
“No. Not at the bar.”
“At work?”
