2 Unhitched (13 page)

Next Saturday. The day before the opening of The Midas Museum of Art. My blood runs cold.

The cheerful doctor escorts me to the door and reminds me once again to take his
“Are You Ready
for a Baby”
quiz. Is he kidding? It’s been sitting in my desk drawer for months. The first thing I’m going to do when I get home is tear it up and watch the shreds burn to ashes in the fireplace. I can’t wait to get out of here. And I’m never coming back.

When I lumber into the waiting room, the big fat pregnant woman is still there. She glares at me with a scornful air of superiority.
That’s it!

“Cow!” I scream at her. Her mouth drops open in horror.

A familiar voice steals my attention.

“Jane!” It’s Elz, loping through the front door. Trust me, she’s never been a beauty, but today she’s glowing. She rushes over to me and gives me a big hug.

“My first check-up!” she beams.

My last.
I muster up the courage to wish her good luck.

I hurry out the door. As soon as I’m outside, I toss the vial of herbs and bag of stones as far away as I can. There’s never going to be a wee Gallant or a mini-me.
Never!

Chapter 10

M
Y FERTILITY QUIZ BONFIRE WILL have to wait until after my appointment with Shrink, the second one this week. I feel sick. Weak. Nauseated. And worst of all, stupid. As my coach heads to her office, I ask myself over and over again: How could I have thought, even for one second, that Gallant was over Aurora? That their relationship was a mere fling? I love my father, but he was wrong. Dead wrong.

I’m on the verge of crying, but do something constructive to stifle the tears. I pull out my “
Growing List of Evidence”
from my purse and add—
#10: Gallant—Missed important Dr.
Grimm
appointment/Has lost interest in baby making.
I read over my list once again, and my gloom gradually lifts. I can’t wait to show it to Shrink. HA! She wanted proof; here it is. It’ll make her speechless. For a change.

As I stumble into to Shrink’s office, I collide head-on with the last person I ever thought I’d run into here. Cinderella. She’s covered with fairy dust. Why the hell is Miss Perfect Princess seeing Shrink?

“Hi, Jane,” she murmurs. To tell the truth, she still looks like crap. Her normally perfectly coiffed blond hair is disheveled. Her face is pale and gaunt. Her blue eyes, sunken and surrounded by dark circles, have lost their glimmer. And she’s swimming in her expensive gown. I mean, she was thin before she had the baby—and even throughout her pregnancy—but now she’s scary-skinny. Scrawny. Size 0.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Please don’t tell anyone. Especially Charming,” she stammers. She makes a desperate attempt to fix her straggly hair and ill-fitting gown. And then tears stream down her sallow cheeks.

“We should talk,” I tell her. “Meet me at Sparkles in a half hour.”

I actually won’t be there for at least an hour, but knowing how late Cinderella always is it’s wise to give her some lead-time.

“Why is Cinderella seeing you?” I begin my session with Shrink.

“Jane, I can’t tell you that,” says Shrink. “Doctor-patient privilege.”

Whatever. I’ll find out soon enough. And besides, I’d better focus on myself, especially since I’ve just wasted the first five minutes of my session.

“So, Jane,” starts Shrink, “how’s it going with you and Gallant?”

I hand her my “
Growing List of Evidence
” with a proud smirk.

“Interesting,” she says, reading it over. Is that all she can say after all the hard work I’ve put into finding evidence? I thought she would be proud of me. I’ve proven my hypothesis. It’s a fact now. Gallant
is
having an affair with Aurora.

“Have you confronted Gallant with your suspicions?”

I don’t like her choice of the word “suspicions.” What I’ve got is hard-core evidence. Even a confession from Gallant himself (#5 on the list) and now, his missed appointment with Dr. Grimm because of “an emergency meeting.” Some emergency; he just couldn’t keep his pants on.

Reluctantly, I shake my head.

“So, when are you planning to confront him?”

Shrink is making me uneasy, almost sick to my stomach.

“I’m waiting to catch him in the act,” I finally say.

“Why are you afraid to confront him?”

Damn Shrink. She knows me too well. I take a deep, painful breath.

“Jane, I’m waiting for an answer.” Shrink zigzags around the room impatiently.

“What would you do?” I ask, shirking the question.

“I’d confront him as quickly as possible. And move on with my life.”

I fiddle with my gold marriage band, the one identical to Gallant’s that has “forever” inscribed in it. A giant wave of nausea falls over me. I need to get a toilet. Fast! But it’s too late. I blow chunks all over Shrink’s office. She manages to flit away just in time.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer between tears. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

The chime rings.

“Time’s up for today, Jane. I’ll see you at our next session.”

Shaking, I get up from the chaise and head for the door. My failed marriage is making me sick. Gallant is my disease.

I wish I could cancel my meeting with Cinderella. I’m in no mood to listen to her ramble on about her problems. Nor am I in any condition to give her advice that she’ll probably reject anyway.

I still feel like crap. The bumpy coach ride to The Trove does little to help my nausea. I’m growing weaker, dizzier, and more hopeless with every pothole we traverse. Why can’t I accept the fact that Gallant is over me, confront him, and just move on? I just want to go home and bury myself under my covers.

To make matters worse, I’ll probably have to wait an hour, if not more, for my sister-in-law to show up. Forget it! If she’s more than fifteen minutes late, I’m going to ditch her. I’ll tell her truth the next time I see her. That I waited but fell ill. She needs to pay the price of always being so late. It might as well start now.

Surprise. When I get to Sparkles, Cinderella is already seated inside at a corner table. I can’t believe Miss Fashionably Late is actually on time. Early in fact. Perhaps having Princess Swan early was a turning point.

The place is buzzing with Lalaland princesses, taking a break from shopping. Many keep subtly turning their heads toward Cinderella. I’m sure they’re gossiping about how bad she looks and enjoying every minute of it.

Her forlorn face brightens slightly when she sees me. I suppose spending a little time with her is the least I can do. We order a pot of tea and two sparkly chocolate cupcakes. The tea makes me feel better. Cinderella doesn’t touch a thing.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I think I’m having some kind of breakdown.” Her voice is glum, her eyes watery.

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since the baby came, I’ve not been myself. I feel sad all the time and worthless.” She bursts into tears. “Oh Jane, I’m not meant to be a mother!”

“Of course, you are,” I console her. “It just takes practice.” HA! As if I know what I’m talking about.

“I’m a terrible mother,” she whimpers.

“But everyone loves you, Cinderella. Even mice worship you.”

“That’s only because I feed them.” She blows her nose with a napkin. “The other day, I slammed a window on a little baby bird. I killed it!”

She
is
having a problem.

“All Swan does is pea, poop, and cry. I don’t know how to comfort her. I think she hates me,” sobs Cinderella.

“Babies aren’t capable of hate,” I say, sounding like I wrote the go-to book on babies.

“She doesn’t want me.” Cinderella is inconsolable.

“Of course, she does,” I reply. “All babies want their mothers.”

I’m sure I, too, as a baby wanted my mother despite the fact that she never wanted me. A pang of sadness shoots through me. I sigh silently.

“It’s good you’re seeing Shrink. What does she think?”

“She says I’m having a mild case of post-baby blues. It’s not uncommon for women to fall into a depression after giving birth.”

I flashback to the birth of my stillborn son. How deeply depressed I was after his birth. But that was different. I had suffered the loss of a child and a husband’s rejection. Cinderella has it all. A healthy, beautiful—okay, not so beautiful—baby and a loving husband.

“Have you talked to Charming about the way you feel?”

“He hasn’t been around much. Now that he’s taking over ruling the kingdom from Midas one day, he’s started intensive training. He comes home late, kisses the baby, and goes to sleep.” She bursts into tears again, crying even harder. I wish she would stop. People are looking at us.

“Charming is in love with Swan. But I don’t think he loves me anymore,” she wails.

Well, I certainly know how that feels. At least, Charming’s not a two-timing cheat. Life for Cinderella is just not as perfect as it was.

“I think you and Charming need some alone-time together. To reconnect.” I bite into one of the cupcakes. “I’ll take care of the baby.”

Cinderella brushes away her tears and brightens. “Yes, a fairy-tale getaway! That’s a great idea, Jane. Where do you think we should go?” She starts spewing an endless stream of destinations, each one fabulous in its own way.

She can’t decide which one to go to. Some things never change. And I’m beginning to regret my generous offer. What possessed me to do that?

“Jane, thank you for being here for me.” She gets up and hugs me. “Sometimes, I wish I had a mother to talk to. A mother who could have been a role model for me.”

Poor Cinderella. Like me, she was a child of abuse. Her wicked stepmother treated her like a lowlife servant, working her to the bone and making her sleep in dark, damp attic. How interesting it is that she lived a life of goodness while I chose evil. Maybe, it’s because my mother was a monster; she even tried to kill me. Still, the emotional scars are there. For the first time since I’ve known her, I feel a bond.

“Well, I’d better get back to the baby,” says Cinderella, her voice fifty shades brighter.

I bid her farewell and scoff down my cupcake and Cinderella’s, something I quickly regret given my current weight problem. I’ll walk home and burn off the calories. And contemplate my next move with Gallant.

As I’m about to leave, a regrettably familiar man, holding a pad and pencil, races up to me. It’s that slimy egghead reporter, Humpty Dumpty. He’s wearing big bandage over the crack I made in his head.

“Is it true that happily-ever-after is over for Cinderella?” he asks.

“NO!” I scream indignantly.

But it is for me!

My heart practically stops. The brunette beauty that I saw with Gallant at Princess Swan’s party breezes into Sparkles and takes a seat at a table for two. Aurora! Humpty dashes over to her table and plunks himself down onto the empty seat. The egghead asks her a question—I can’t make it out. A warm, beautiful smile spreads across the Sleeping Slut’s face, and she starts chatting. Humpty scribbles notes feverishly. Though I can’t hear what she’s saying, I swear she’s just mouthed Gallant’s name.

I fling a plate at Aurora, but it misses. SPLAT! It smacks Humpty’s in the forehead, cracking it wide open. Dazed, the shell of a man slaps a hand to the jagged crack to stop the putrid yellow goo that’s oozing out. I swear next time I’m going to scramble his brains. Fearful of another round of nausea, I sprint out of Sparkles. It’s only a matter of time until Gallant’s affair with Aurora is front-page news.