Page 19 of Expecting an Argument
She shifted the wand again, but I pulled my eyes away from the screen and looked up at Beau. Where I had wanted to catch him in a state of contrition as he realized he had been wrong all along, I instead found a man who looked like he was falling from a hundred feet.
His wide eyes made something behind my ribs flutter, so I turned back to the ultrasound screen.
My heart stopped. I blinked to make sure I was reading the screen correctly but…two. Two heads, two bodies, two sets of hands and feet.
“Well,” Dr. Ornelas said with a smile, “would you look at that.”
Twins. I was carrying twins.
The satin bow of denial broke and all my worry spilled out of that imaginary bag. My heart raced as spreadsheets monopolized my brain, each calculating the cost of two cribs, two daycare tuitions, and two sets of clothes. Double the diapers, double the jars of baby food, double the doctor visits, double the school supply lists…
The lights flicked back on but my internal calculator didn’t stop. I stared up at the golden lamp as my brain ran through all the data of how badly I was fucked. My hands shook as they rested on top of my belly.
Dr. Ornelas explained that I had to get my IUD removed immediately, and all I remembered was heavily nodding my head. A quick pinch and it was over. I could barely feel it. I could barely even breathe…
I mentally traced the edges of that golden lamp in a counter-clockwise spiral. I heard Dr. Ornelas talking to Beau, but the sound hit my ears as if I were stuck inside a glass fish bowl. I could only process bits and pieces of their conversation as my internal system whirred with numbers on a balance sheet and sorted through the acronyms of all the government assistanceprograms I could remember.
“…measuring at eleven weeks gestation,” Dr. Ornelas said.
“…never done this before, but…with twins?” Beau asked.
Twins. Twins. Twins. The word was an echo in my fish bowl as I drowned.
“…needs more help,” Dr. Ornelas replied. “…mobility concerns…more water…rest…”
Rest? Who could rest in my position? I needed to get another job, needed insurance, needed a babysitter, needed two cribs, needed to call the county health department, needed my mom—
I closed my eyes, listening to the memory of my mother’s voice echoing through my mind as if she were crying out to me at the end of a long, dark hallway.
“I can do hard things,”she had always told me. I had always listened to her, I had always succeeded because of her, but why could I not believe her now?
“Adams? ADAMS!”
I jerked my head to my left to find Beau glancing at me as he drove. I looked down and plucked at the seatbelt cutting between my breasts. Somehow, I had made it back into the passenger’s seat of Beau’s truck. The tall buildings of the cityscape passed us on either side as we made it through downtown.
“Christ, Adams,” Beau snapped as he shook his head. “You’re white as a sheet. If you’re going to get sick, warn me to pull over so you don’t ruin the leather upholstery.”
I frowned and pulled the bottom of the seatbelt below the swell of my belly. Of course he was only worried about his precious upholstery. Twins weren’t a financial death sentence for him.
“When was the last time you ate?” he demanded.
I shrugged. “Can’t remember.”
He scoffed and flicked his turn signal. “I’m finding thenearest smoothie place so I can at least get something in you. No wonder your blood pressure was so low.”
“It was?”
He shot me a quick, disbelieving look. “How do you not remember?”
I hissed out a breath but kept my eyes on my belly. “Maybe if you had the slightest bit of emotional intelligence, you might understand how this situation could be quite overwhelming for a person.”
“Damn it, you’re not taking care of yourself!” he said. “First you let your IUD expire, then you let your car go to shit, and now you’re not keeping up with your nutrition. Neglecting yourself is bad enough, but now you’re carrying my babies—”
“YOURbabies?” I snapped.
“Yes,mybabies.” He pointed at my belly as he took a turn down another street. “They are the only heirs to the company, the family land, the Fontaine name—”
“Heirs? What century are you living in? And don’t you think they’re getting your name because—!”
