Picturing Perfect (16 page)

"That sounds nice."

Somehow, Jason managed to keep my tears from returning. Eventually we made our way to the conference room to meet with Ellie about the show. And as we discussed the performance, the music and the props, I found myself getting lost in Jason's handsome features. The two little freckles on his neck that I always fixated on when he'd sit on the couch in his basement, reading a book or watching a movie…I loved those two little brown flecks on his pale skin. Being friends with Jason wouldn't be easy, but the thought of not having him in my life scared me to death. He believed in me. He had faith in me. And that gave me hope. Maybe I could handle all of this. Maybe…just maybe.

Allison Foster's mouth was agape as she stared at me from the couch across the small living room. The silence that hovered over us was killing me.

"Say something. Please, Mom…"

"I—I don't know…" Her face was puzzled, conflicted…and full of emotion. Wow. Who knew that all I had to do to get my mother to feel again was to get pregnant?

"Something, anything, please," I pleaded.

"You're so young…you had plans, I—"

"I know."

"And you're so far along. Why didn't you tell me? Why?" Her forehead creased for the first time in years.

"I didn't know what to tell you and I didn't know how you'd react. But, now, with these test results…I'm overwhelmed. I
need
you, Mom."

She breathed in deeply, staring off into space for several seconds before standing up. My heart ached with dread. Was she going to walk away from me now when I needed her the most?

A concerned expression spread across her lips and she crossed the room to sit next to me. She placed her arm around me in an awkward motion, almost like that of a marionette. But, I embraced the gesture and leaned into her shoulder, tears spilling from my eyes. I hadn't felt the safety of her arms for so long…since before Dad died. Before she retreated into herself. Before she stopped being the mom I knew and loved so deeply.

My mom had been a different woman since my father passed away. He had been sick for my entire freshman year in college, battling cancer that invaded his pancreas. She knew the day was inevitable when we'd have to say goodbye to him, having gone to each chemotherapy appointment and every appointment with the oncologist, who delivered bad news again and again when the cancer refused to stop spreading. But, it didn't matter. She had a breakdown and was placed into psychiatric care for several months. Those were the worst months of both of our lives. She was fighting with reality and so was I.

She wanted to live in a reality where Martin Foster was still with us. And I was fighting to maintain his memory without completely losing her as well. During those months, I would visit her at the facility. They were some of the scariest, most uncomfortable times I'd ever experienced.

"Mom," I said. It was the middle of July and I was home for the summer. She'd been at the psychiatric treatment center for three weeks and looked more like a zombie than ever before. She was wearing the same pajamas she'd worn the last time I'd visited. Her hair looked stringy and unwashed.

"Can I braid your hair, Ma?" I asked, holding up her hairbrush and a tiny plastic elastic that was given to me by the nurses. No belts, no shoelaces, nothing that a patient could use to harm themselves. This tiny little elastic couldn't be used to aid my mother in hurting herself. It pained me that something so tiny and seemingly insignificant had now become a part of our lives. I was only nineteen years old and I had to worry about which hair accessories could be used to help my mother do something suicidal.

Mom nodded and turned her body so I could sit next to her on the bed.
She stared at the walls as I talked to her about school and friends and the steady stream of flowers and well-wishes we received from friends and family in her absence. At times, she'd respond with a small "hmm" and at least I knew she was listening.

When I finished weaving her blond hair into a braid, we sat in silence for a minute or two. Feeling brave, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, hoping to comfort her as she had always comforted me. She didn't cry, she didn't yell, she just stared at that cold, concrete wall. And I mourned the woman she used to be.

The pads of my mother's fingers pressed into my shoulder, bringing me back to my current reality. My emotions were a whirlwind. My baby could be sick and it was the most frightened I'd ever been. Possibly more frightened than the day my parents told me about Dad's cancer or the day my mom was admitted to the treatment center. The responsibility of it all, the responsibility of another life inside of mine was the most intimidating and overwhelming thing I'd ever experienced. But, my mother was comforting me, and I clung to the idea of the old Allison Foster being there with me again. Relief covered me like a blanket and I clutched it with every ounce of strength remaining inside me.

"It's nothing, really."

Making eye contact with Ellie was impossible. I had been avoiding her for two weeks. My feelings of hypocrisy consumed me since I'd spoken to Dr. Myers. Since the day I realized I was living a lie. I adored my clients, but was terrified to have a child with special needs. It'd taken everything in me not to give Pamela my notice just so I could escape the guilt that weighed so heavily on my shoulders.

"Lies," she said, with a shake of her head. "I'm not leaving until you talk. You've been a zombie for days. I know I'm not your best friend or anything, but I'm really worried."

"I don't want you to worry," I said. My eyes darted away from hers again.

"Too late," she said, her voice stern.

"I don't know how to tell you. I…I'm a horrible person."

"Oh puh-lease. If you're a horrible person, then this world is full of utter scumbags. Now, talk."

"My triple screen blood test was positive…which means the baby may have Down's or a couple of other genetic disorders."

"Oh shit," she said, instantly covering her mouth after saying the words.

"I know," I nodded, "And I don't want that. I'm selfish. I want a healthy baby. I know that makes me such a hypocrite. God, I don't deserve to work here anymore, do I?"

"Oh my God, you can't be serious." She pulled her chair to mine, sitting to face me. "Look at me, Hadley. You are
not
a bad person…you're just scared. Everyone wants their baby to be healthy.
Everyone
."

"Our clients are healthy." I raised an eyebrow as I said the words.

"To a degree, yes. But, Violet has a heart condition that's tied to her Down Syndrome. And I'm pretty sure you knew that."

"Yeah," I said with a conciliatory nod.

"What pregnant woman doesn't want a healthy baby with no special circumstances? Stop demonizing yourself. I mean it."

"I can't help it…every time I look at Warren, I want to cry. I adore him. I'd be lucky to have a child like him."

"He's not a child," she asserted.

"I know." Silence hovered in the air.

"So, how many false positives happen with this test?" The optimism was building in her eyes. She was looking for the bright side of things. Something I usually did. But, not this time.

"A lot."

"So everything
could
be just fine?"

"Yeah."

"When will you know more?"

"In two weeks…hopefully. I have my 20-week ultrasound. They'll be able to check certain things to see if they match up with the screening."

"Okay. So, in two weeks—"

A knock came from the office door. Nick peeked his head in. His carefree expression was wiped away the moment he locked eyes with his wife.

"Oh, sorry," he said as he closed the door quickly. Ellie rolled her eyes, jumped out of her seat and opened the door.

"Get in here, Miller." She waved him into the office. I did my best to mask the distraught expression on my face. Not that I had any kind of poker face whatsoever.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," he said, walking into the office without looking me in the eye. Such a guy. They never quite know how to deal with an upset woman. Sitting on the couch, he rested his elbows on his knees, focusing his attention on Ellie.

"We need your opinion on something."

"Ellie, no—" I started to protest. She raised her hand up to me with a reassuring nod.

"When you and I get pregnant," she began. Nick's eyebrows shot up.

"Are you?" he asked her, placing his hand on her stomach.

"No. Not yet. We just started trying, babe. It takes time," she said, taking his hand in hers. "But, when we do get preggers, we'll want a healthy baby, right?"

"Of course," Nick said. "That's a no-brainer, Ells."

"Okay, so…if I had a test done—a standard pregnancy blood test—and that blood test showed signs of the baby having Down's…" she tipped her head to Nick, hoping he'd fill in the blanks on what she was inferring.

"It'd freak me out." He put his hands up in front of his face in mock surrender. "I'm sorry. Maybe that makes me a dickhead. But…"

"No, it doesn't," Ellie said with a smile.

Nick Miller was Sunnyside's star employee. He loved those clients with all that he was. Working with them was his life's work, his passion. He was there day in and day out spending his time making the clients' lives as fun and productive as possible. He was an exceptional human being.

"It makes you honest," I said. "Thanks, Nick."

Nick's eyes finally found mine. They looked pained.

"Is everything all right? Is the baby okay?"

"I'm not sure yet." I shrugged, pursing my lips together.

"She'll know more in a couple weeks. I just wanted her to see that she's normal. Her reaction is normal."

"So, I was your guinea pig?" Nick asked, turning back to his wife. "Geez, Ells, what if I had said the wrong thing?"

"Impossible." She shook her head. "I know you too well."

"All right…now you're starting to mess with my head." He laughed and walked to the door.

As he placed his hand on the door, he turned back to me. "You know we're here for you, right?"

"I do," I said with a smile.

"Good."

Ellie looked back to me. "Have you told Tucker…or Jason?"

"I'm waiting to tell Tucker. I want to have more info first. But, Jason knows."

"And? What does he think?"

"He's so wonderful. He's doing lots of research. He won't let me Google anything myself. But, he's constantly looking things up. He wants the baby to have the best life possible. And he's not pushing me the way Tucker does."

"He's a good guy."

"I know."

"Hold onto that one."

"He's not mine to hold onto."

"We'll see."

My belly flinched as the cold gel made contact with my skin. My heart was racing like crazy. Jason was right. The love I felt for this child was unwavering. Regardless of what the tech said, I was completely and utterly in love with my baby. But, I wanted him (or her) to be as healthy as possible.

My mom held my hand, her best reassuring smile plastered to her face. Relieved to have her there with me, I was able to relax slightly. Auden had offered to come, but I wanted my mom and I to take this step together. Luckily, Auden understood. Besides, I think the entire idea of an ultrasound would have been a little overwhelming for my best friend. She was nowhere near ready for this step in her life. Even though she'd been supportive, my being pregnant was still surreal to her. I kept telling her to "join the club." It was still surreal to me each morning when I felt the baby move within my belly.