Page 61 of Power Move
“Why does that matter?”
“I don’t know. I’m maybe paranoid, but my OB told me that if something happened, I needed to go there if I couldn’t make it to Chicago in time.”
It made sense.
“She’s not delivering a baby, Daphne!”
Not yet.
“It’s better imaging equipment and such,” Daphne said.
“Mum, I agree,” Lanie said. “Makes more sense.”
“I can go with,” Daphne offered.
I shook my head. “No. I’ll take her. You all should stay and map out strategy. I’m… I will make sure she’s okay.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Mum threw her hands up.
“I’m going,” I said, unwilling to argue.
I watched relief wash across Eva’s face.
“Eva, I’ll drive you down there,” I grabbed my keys off the sideboard by the front door. “C’mon. Daphne will manage the strategy session.”
Daphne set her jaw, annoyed. I could just hear her saying, “You better have a good reason for this, David, Jr.”
Eva said little, following me to my car in a trance. She climbed in.
“Top up or down?” I asked.
She glared. I knew the answer wasup. What sort of question was that anyway? She probably felt like she was off to sudden doom and here I was worrying about my convertible.
“It’s… I just want to make it easier on you. I am sure it is?—”
“No, David. Don’t talk to me right now,” Eva said. “We’refucked. Everything about this is fucked. And if we lose this baby?—”
“We won’t,” I said. “This is going to work out, baby.”
“Davey, what if we just went through hell—what if we just threw ourselves under the bus—for nothing.”
“It’s not. It’s… we’ll be fine.” If I said it enough, it would be true.
19.DOUBLE OOPS
Eva
I arrivedat the hospital ER entrance alone and confused. We were 40 minutes from my front door, but a world away mentally. While Davey parked his ridiculous car as far out as he could to protect its precious paint job from door dings—the horror—I walked to the reception desk. A surly man in green scrubs greeted me.Oh, joy!
“Hi,” I said. “I’ve got a potentially broken wrist?—”
He cut me off and handed me a clipboard. “It’s going to take half a day probably. We have a line.”
I turned to see a packed ER.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t finish. I’m 12 weeks and 4 days pregnant and just had a spill. I landed on my stomach. I need to see someone.”
“Oh…” His concern replaced antipathy. “I will have to call L&D and see if they want you up there first. Just wait a minute.”
