Chapter 3 1 страница

Two weeks later, Blair sat in Monique's waiting room, making calls and updating her Palm Pilot to pass the time until the doctor returned to the office from her morning’s delivery at the hospital. She normally refused to wait for a doctor who scheduled appointments poorly, but she understood that an obstetrician couldn't plan her day as carefully as many others could.

She was so tired that she considered stretching out on the all-too-comfortable leather loveseat and taking a nap. She started to fantasize about sleep, feeling her eyes close once again. Oh, that's bad. Now I'm feeling a sexual tingle when I think of a big, fluffy bed. Times have changed. I used to have to imagine a big, hunky man in a bed to make my heart pound. Now the man's optional.

When Monique's nurse called her in, Blair put on a gown and waited impatiently. No sooner had the door opened than she started in on her main complaint. “Does the baby actually grow in my bladder? Should you take an x-ray or something just to check?”

Smiling at her hyperbole, Doctor Jackson said, “Hi, Blair. How are things?"

"Good, except I'm tired ¾ although that's not nearly a good enough word to describe my exhaustion ¾ and I have to pee every thirty seconds."

Monique nodded. "Besides the fact that I'm sure the baby's in the right place, x-rays aren't a good idea right now, Blair.” She patted her shoulder and reminded her, “This is perfectly normal, and regrettably, it'll get worse as your pregnancy progresses. There isn’t much you can do about it, since you really need all of the water that I’ve urged you to drink. This is one of those ‘only seven and a half more months’ kinda things.”

"This date thing is strange," Blair said. "I know the exact moment that I was inseminated. It's been four weeks. Why am I supposed to say I'm six weeks pregnant?"

"You can say anything you want," Monique teased. "You can say you're sixty-six weeks pregnant, but we always count from the first day of your last period."

"Doesn't make sense," the blonde insisted, her lips pursed. "I don't like it."

"Other than being unhappy with the nomenclature, and being in just a tiny bit of a bad mood, is everything else all right?”

Laughing, Blair said, “Yep. I actually feel wonderful. I still have that euphoria thing going, and I feel sexy all the time. Life is pretty sweet. Now, if I could just stay awake to enjoy it …”

"No more cramps after sex?"

"Every once in a while, but I'm not worried about it now. It just feels like the cramps I used to get with my period. I figure that if I'm not bleeding, there's nothing to worry about."

"You're pretty calm, aren't ya?"

"Not usually," Blair admitted, "but I'm happy, and I know the baby's perfectly fine. I don't know how I know, but I know."

"I'm glad to hear that," Monique said, patting her knee.

"It's funny. I must be growing less sensitive, because I feel less pregnant than I did at first."

"Oh, you're more pregnant. Your body's just adjusting to the increased hormone levels." Monique laughed and said, "Don't complain about not noticing you're pregnant. Some women have a lot of reminders throughout the day."

"No, not me. I'm just tired and have a pea-sized bladder."

"I'm sure you know that being tired is a universal complaint, but are you getting enough rest to be able to function?"

"Yeah. I can't stay asleep for the entire night because of the peeing thing, so I take naps a lot. A whole lot. I go to my car and take a twenty minute nap if I have to be in the office, and I fall asleep within five minutes of getting home at night. My husband has to throw me over his shoulder to get me into the dining room to have dinner."

"Any chance of your husband coming in soon? I'd like to meet him. "

Blair gave her an embarrassed smile and said, "He travels a lot, Monique. He wanted to come with me, but he's out of town again. He comes home tonight, but …"

"It's not a big deal, Blair. But if he's got questions or concerns, urge him to come with you next time. Coming to your regular appointments will help him feel like he’s involved."

„G

That night Blair stood in the kitchen, starting to prepare dinner for David. She was dreadfully tired, but she'd been slacking off so badly that she felt she needed to prepare a meal at least once a week. Just as she put some broccoli in the steamer, her stomach decided that the smell of the stuff was a very, very bad thing. She ran past David so quickly that his newspaper folded over from the air current. “Hey, where’s the fi ¾?” he started to ask, but his question was answered when he heard her begin to retch violently.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly a minute later, barely sticking his head into their bathroom.

She was sprawled out on the floor, leaning heavily against the toilet, waiting for another attack. Evil Blair, as she had taken to calling her hormone-ravaged self, wanted to ask him if it was possible to come up with a stupider question, but she wisely bit her tongue. If you die, you'll need him to call your parents.Don’t piss him off. “I’ll be fine,” she mumbled. “Just a little morning sickness.”

“But it’s 6:00 p.m.,” he said reasonably, yelping as a forcefully thrown tube of toothpaste caught him square in the chest.

„G

“Hey, Kylie, it’s Blair. We need to get together and talk about getting your condo sold. Let me know what’s good for you. Oh, and would you mind hooking me up to an IV — ‘cause I’m never going to put another thing in my poor stomach, and I'm gonna need some form of nourishment.”

Kylie didn’t get back to her until nearly five o’clock. “Sorry for the delay,” she said, sounding exhausted. “I’ve been in surgery since 7:00 a.m.”

“Working on one person?”

“No, I had two procedures of my own, and I was ready to leave the hospital when I got called over to UCLA to assist on some poor soul who …” She paused and said, “Given the comment about an IV, I’m gonna assume you have morning sickness.”

Blair's tone sharpened, and she said, "That term is intentionally misleading and should be abandoned by all who fear for their lives, but, yes, I do. Why do you ask?”

“Because I just realized that you won’t want to hear how I spent my afternoon. Let’s change the subject, okay?”

“I’m not that fragile, Kylie.”

“Trust me on this one, Blair,” she said, her tone serious. “Anyway, all I’ve had to eat is a protein bar between procedures. I’m nearly faint from hunger. Wanna talk over dinner?”

“I can’t risk it, Kylie. The smell of food being cooked is lethal.”

“Okay, how about this? I’ll stop and pick something up, and you and I can walk down to the ocean and eat at a picnic table. You should start going for walks everyday anyway.”

“Are you sure? You could just stop and eat and then meet me later.”

“No, I’d rather make sure you have something in your stomach. I have a feeling you’re going to need to be closely monitored by a doctor during your pregnancy,” she joked. “Do you have casual shoes?”

“Sure do. I’m just doing paperwork today, so I’m in my jeans. I can’t button the top button, by the way, which makes me even grouchier.”

“I can handle you,” Kylie said. “Anything in particular you can’t bear the thought of?”

“The list of things I can tolerate is much shorter. So far that's only Animal Crackers.”

“Oh, you are going to need supervision. I’ll be there in an hour. Do you mind if I don’t stop to change?”

“Nope. Come as you are, Doc.”

„G

A little over an hour later, Kylie arrived, carrying a shopping bag, which Blair fervently hoped contained nothing but Animal Crackers. Taking a long look at the doctor, noting her indigo-blue scrubs, her haphazard hairstyle and the bluish smudges under her red-rimmed eyes, Blair commented, “I hope I don’t look as bad as you do.”

Giving her the same treatment, Kylie shook her head and said, “Hate to break it to you, but you look worse. You’re not wearing Kabuki makeup, are you?”

“That wasn't even close to being funny. I'll have you know that I looked fairly decent until I heard the local news on the radio. Seems that a team of doctors at UCLA surgically reattached a man’s penis this afternoon.” The words had no sooner left her mouth than she leapt to her feet and flew to the restroom, leaving Kylie to gaze after her sympathetically.

When Blair returned, looking even worse, Kylie said, “I told you it wasn’t something you’d want to hear.”

“Well, when you figure out how to filter the newscasts, let me know. I think I’m gonna start listening to one of the Spanish stations. At least I won't understand most of what they say.”

With a tired smile, Kylie asked, “Did they mention my name on the news? I’d love to be famous.”

“Not unless you’ve changed your name to ‘team of doctors.’” Giving Kylie a nervous glance, she asked, “Those aren’t the scrubs you wore while you were operating, are they?”

“God, no! Those were covered with … uhm … candy!” she said, grinning goofily. “I … uhm … had a big box of chocolate, and you know what a pig I am when I eat, and I ¾”

Blair placed her hand over her friend’s mouth and said, “I appreciate the attempt to avoid the word ‘blood,’ but you’re starting to sound like a fucking lunatic!” She took a portfolio from her desk and clipped her cell phone to her waistband. “Let’s go. I need some fresh air.” Once outside she asked, “Now that I have absolutely nothing in my stomach, tell me about your surgery.”

“No, really, Blair, it’s not something a woman with a balky tummy wants to hear about.”

Blair stopped walking and placed her hand on her friend’s arm. “The news report made this sound like a very big deal. I can’t imagine you’re not proud of what you did. I’d like to share that with you.”

Giving her a charmingly shy grin, Kylie said, “I am pretty excited. Do you really want to hear about it?”

“I do.”

“Okay,” she said. "The media makes a bigger deal of this kind of thing than it really is. In a city of this size, there are body parts reattached all the time. It's only when it's a child or a … particularly kinky injury that the news picks up on it."

Blair gave her friend a hip bump and ordered, "Stop deprecating your work and tell me what happened."

"Okay, okay." Blair watched Kylie's face transform rather remarkably as the fatigue disappeared, replaced by a wave of enthusiasm that threatened to burst from her. “This guy had partially severed his penis with a circular saw. Luckily, if you can ever call a guy who cuts his penis half off lucky, the cut was just behind the corona. He was fairly incoherent, but managed to say something about gym shorts and no underwear and … well, he was particularly gifted in the length department. I guess it just got in the way.” She gave Blair a careful look and asked, “How ya doing?”

“Good,” she said. “I’m focusing on your words and your excitement rather than the details.”

“Great! Well, he cut just halfway through, and it was a fairly clean cut. Regrettably, he severed his urethra, and that’s what they wanted me for.”

“You’re the go to guy in urethras?”

“Actually, there aren’t many of us in L.A. who do microsurgery on the reproductive tract. I work on a lot of penises, but not that many urethras, to be honest. I’m usually working to reverse vasectomies, not open up a urethra, 'cause that's not a common reason for infertility. Anyway, they had a couple of vascular surgeons and a plastic/reconstruction guy who’d been working for hours. The vascular guys could have done it, but they were toast by the time they called me in. So I stitched up the urethra with a bunch of guys looking over my shoulder.” She gave Blair a grin and added, “Surgeons love to kibitz behind your back while you’re working. What an annoying bunch of people we are.”

Blair was gazing at her with an expression bordering on awe. “I … I don’t have any idea of how you could possibly do something like that. How can you even see something so tiny?”

“With a microscope,” she said. “I use a special microscope that makes everything appear pretty darned big.”

“But it isn’t big,” Blair insisted, “it’s tiny, and you have to go in there and sew it up with what I assume must be tiny little instruments.”

Kylie laughed softly. “Well, it’s not like I use instruments from the Doctor Barbie collection. My tools have normal-sized handles. They just have really teeny blades. It’s pretty cool.”

They were waiting at a stoplight, and Blair took Kylie’s free hand and examined it curiously. “I know I tease you about what you do, but I have a tremendous amount of respect for you. These are such talented hands.” She released her and tucked her own hand around Kylie’s arm. “I’m proud to know you.”

Walking the rest of the way in silence, Kylie was obviously deep in thought. Just before they crossed Ocean Avenue, she said, “Every once in a while, I step back and consider what an impact my work can have on people. Like when a couple gets pregnant after years of trying, and they take the time to let me know. But, honestly, I don’t get a lot of feedback. I clean out a pair of fallopian tubes, and after a brief follow-up visit, I never see the woman again. Doing something like I did today is really rewarding.”

“You did good, Doc.” Blair smiled up at her friend. “You’re one hell of a team of doctors.”

„G

“You know, you did pretty well for yourself in picking this food,” Blair commented a while later. “How’d you get so smart?”

“Just an educated guess,” Kylie said. “When my stomach's queasy, I prefer cold foods to hot and vegetables and starches to animal products.”

“You eat pretty well most of the time, don’t you?” Blair noted. "I don't think I've ever seen you eat junk."

“Yeah, I do eat pretty healthily. Since I'm on my feet all day, I like to stay lean to put as little stress on my legs and feet as possible. I don’t exercise, so eating well is the only way to do it.”

“You don’t exercise? At all?”

“As little as possible,” she said. “That’s part of the reason I want a dog. If I get into the habit of walking a dog, I’ll at least get my heart pumping a little bit.”

“Well, we’d better get you into that house quickly! I want that heart to keep pumping.”

“I’m ready to go,” Kylie agreed. “Can you sell my condo?”

“Well, condos are a little beneath me,” she sniffed, “but I’ll make an exception for you. Actually, I think I have someone who’d like it.”

“Already? I don’t even know how much to ask for it.”

“I do,” Blair said, giving her a small scowl. “One of my team members sells condos, and she loves your building. She tells me that your unit is worth about $350,000.”

Kylie’s eyes widened. “I paid $150,000!”

“ One fifty, huh?” Blair’s eyebrows knit together briefly. “You bought it in … ’86 or ’87.”

“How did you know? My parents bought it for me when I came out to go to med school. I had to pay them back, of course, but they let me slide until I started to practice.”

“I sold condos when I started out. I know the market backwards and forwards.”

“So it would seem,” Kylie said.

“Here’s the straight scoop. I think Mandy is right, and your place is worth about $350,000. But that doesn’t mean that’s all you can sell it for. We might be able to squeeze a few thousand more out of it. If you want to, we’ll list it and have Sunday open houses and show it to every potential condo buyer on the Westside. I don’t mind doing the work, Kylie. But if that doesn’t appeal to you, Mandy will buy it for $350,000, if you can afford to carry a little paper.”

“How much is a little, and where do I have to carry it?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

Blair gave her a playful punch, something that she did often with the mischievous doctor. “She qualifies for a $300,000 loan. So if you could carry a $50,000 note for say, five years, she’d either be able to refinance to pay you off or sell the place. My guess is she’ll want to sell within five years anyway. She and her boyfriend are going to get married when he's finished with dental school, and they'll probably outgrow your condo.”

“I’d much prefer to get this over with,” Kylie decided. “I don’t want to have to keep the place pristine and clear out every time you want to show it. I can easily carry a $50,000 note. Actually, I can go higher if she needs it. I assume she’s a good risk?”

Scowling, Blair said, "Would I ask you to make her a loan if she weren't?"

"No. I'm a little slow today," Kylie said. "My brain's still back in the operating room."

“That makes sense," Blair said. "Not to worry. I have my broker’s license, and in the five years I’ve worked for this company, I’ve never asked them to let me broker a property on my own. So I told them that I wanted to broker yours. After a little moaning and whining, the owner of the company gave in. So you, my friend, are going to save six percent. No commission for you.”

“No way, Blair! I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of you like that.”

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me, Kylie.” Her face grew serious as she said, “I don’t let people take advantage of me, and I sure as hell don’t volunteer for it.”

“But this is how you make your living. You deserve to be compensated for it.”

“I agree, Kylie, but I also don’t want to take advantage of you. On a $350,000 sale, the usual commission is $21,000. So far I’ve had two short conversations about this house ¾ one with Mandy and this one with you. Is that worth $21,000?”

“Yes,” she said decisively. “If that’s what you normally make when you sell a house of that value, then it most certainly is.”

“Look,” Blair patiently explained, “I want you to buy the new house. I want to make sure your old house is sold, because if you pull out of the deal, I stand to lose a lot more than $21,000. I’m not going to take your money, so if you won’t agree, I’ll just let the firm broker your condo. The owner will get $10,500 for doing nothing, and Mandy will get the rest. If you're gonna do that, you might as well drop the price of the place by ten K. It'll save Mandy money, since she won't have to pay income tax on it.” She shrugged and added, "Seems dumb to me, but that's the way to do it."

"I'm not comfortable with this," Kylie said. "I’m not even sure why, but it feels like someone's getting screwed."

Blair pursed her lips and thought for a minute. “Okay, how about this? Give Mandy your refrigerator and your stackable washer/dryer. That stackable will be wrong for your new house, and you have a built-in Sub-Zero refrigerator. In return for that, Mandy will do all of the paperwork, relieving me of doing anything at all.”

Giving her a warm, affectionate smile, Kylie shook her head briefly. “I've said it before, but I'll say it again ¾ you’re good at this.”

“Sure am.”

“I love hanging out with people who're good at what they do.”

“Me, too. And if I ever get my penis cut off in an industrial accident, you’re the first one I’ll call.”

„G

The next night, Blair curled up next to her husband on the couch. "You busy?" she asked.

"Not too busy for you." He put down the book he was reading, took a healthy sip of his scotch and gave her a warm smile. "What's up?"

"I wanna talk about ultrasound," she said.

"I don't think I have much to contribute to that topic, honey. I'm not even sure what an ultrasound is."

"You would if you'd read some of the books that Kylie gave us."

"I have to read so much for work," he complained. "I keep trying to read your books on the weekend, but the time …"

"I know," she said, "but that's not what I want to talk about. When I saw the doctor, she said that she'd be happy to perform an ultrasound during my next visit."

"Uh-huh," he said, nodding to encourage her to continue.

"I don't think I want one yet, but I'm willing to have one if you think I should."

"Me?" He looked at her like she was a complete stranger sitting next to him on a bus.

"Yeah, you. Who else should I discuss these things with?"

"Well … me, but I don't know what we're talking about, so how can I help?"

"An ultrasound is just a test where they bounce sound waves off my belly and get a grainy picture of the baby. I'm sure you've seen them before."

"Oh! Yeah, guys at work have had them. I know what you mean."

She tickled under his chin, making him giggle. "Such a smart boy." Sheclimbed onto his lap and tucked her arms around him, savoring the faint musky smell of his body. "Doctor Jackson wants to do one during the second trimester, but it's up to me if I want to have one earlier."

"Is it dangerous?"

"No, they don't think so, but it's a little inconvenient. Most doctors do them in the office, but Doctor Jackson uses a specialist for them. I'd have to have it done at the hospital."

"What's the purpose, honey?"

"At this point, I think they'd only be able to see if something was horribly wrong. The baby's still too small to be able to discern much detail."

He shifted around, wrapping his arms tightly around her body. "Are you worried?"

"No, not really. I'm not much of a worrier about things I can't control, and for some reason, I'm sure the baby's healthy. It's just a feeling I have."

"Your feelings are usually pretty accurate," David said. "I think you should stick to your first instinct and not have it done."

She looked a little embarrassed and admitted, "I know I'm being a little weird about this, but I don't want to disturb the baby."

"Disturb?" David asked, giving her a look that showed just how little he understood her point.

Wriggling a little on his lap, she said, "I told you it was weird, but I think the baby deserves privacy. I don't want to be bouncing sound waves off his or her house if I don't have to."

"I think that's cute," he said, giving her a fond smile. "Very cute."

"You won't mind having to wait to carry around a tiny, indistinguishable picture in your wallet?"

"I can wait," he said, kissing her on the lips. "You know what I can't wait for?"

"No, baby, what?"

"I can't wait to lie down next to you and touch you. You look so pretty tonight." He caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers, smiling when she shivered. "You're so sensitive … so beautiful."

She drew his head forward and kissed him, lingering for a long time. Luckily, her newly sensitive nose barely noticed the smell of pepperoni pizza and scotch on his breath, but the lingering odor of his last cigarette made her stomach turn. "Honey," she said, looking him in the eyes, "you're gonna have to stop smoking. I can't bear the smell."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but after a pause he nodded. "I'm trying. I really am. But I've been smoking since I was sixteen."

"I know you're trying," she said, alternately stroking his cheek and outlining the dark stubble with her finger. "But you're gonna have to quit if you want to kiss me or sleep with me. I can smell it on your breath when you face me in bed."

"Okay," he said, blanching a little at the thought. "I'll stop on Monday morning so that I have one last weekend to indulge."

"All right," she said. "But don't even think of kissing me until you purge yourself of the smell."

"How about your neck?" he asked, kissing all over her sensitive skin.

She slapped at him, giggling the whole time. "You know that tickles!"

"I've gotta kiss you somewhere," he said.

"Top of my head?"

"Oh, that's sexy."

"Motivation, baby. You need the proper motivation. When the smell of smoke leaves, my lips come back."

"If anything will motivate me, that will," David said, kissing his wife on the top of her blonde hair.

„G

A week later, Kylie went to Blair's office around lunchtime to sign some papers concerning the sale of her condo. The always-perky receptionist smiled at her and held up a finger when the phone rang. "Potter, Higgins and Hale. Yes, he's in. I'll put you through." She smiled up at Kylie and said, "Blair's waiting for you. Go on back."

Kylie knocked softly and opened her friend's door, smiling when she saw Blair with her shoes off and her feet propped up on the open bottom drawer of her desk. "Close the door," the blonde said. "Clients are always walking by, and I don't want them to see my tootsies."

They took care of business quickly, and Kylie turned the conversation to personal matters. “You mentioned you’re alone all week. Where’s David?”

“I think he’s in Cincinnati … no, wait … Cleveland. Yeah. Cleveland … I think.”

“Has he always traveled so much?”

“Yep. His busiest times are April and May and again from October to December. Most financial institutions have a year-end in either June or December, so he hits the road to do a lot of legwork before they close the books. It’s good that he’s traveling now, since he can provide me with my fix.”

“What’s that? Tiny bags of peanuts?”

“Un-unh. Barf bags.”

“Are you serious?”

“Sure am. I told him not to bother coming home if he can’t steal me at least a dozen of ‘em.”

“But why would you want to use a bag?”

“Because I can’t spend the day cleaning the toilet at work,” she said, grimacing. “The mere thought of putting my face near the spot where everybody else has had his ass makes me retch. Plus, I drive around a lot during the day, and I’m not going to stick my head out of the window of my car. The last time I did that was in high school, when I had too much cheap wine.” She laughed. “David thinks I’m mad, but I make him clean the toilet every time he uses it. I caught him peeing in the bathroom sink last night, just so he didn’t have to get the scrub brush out again.”

Дата добавления: 2015-09-04