Chapter 48 - The Appointment Card
The midwife handed me a card for the next ultrasound. I placed it between two pages of my sketchbook and nearly forgot it until Elena came over for dinner.
“Did you tell Adrian?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
“Will you?”
“I'll give him the information I'm comfortable giving. The doctor appointments are mine.”
We argued pleasantly over whether the baby needed a rocking chair, though neither of us had measured the space beside the window. Elena claimed every serious New York apartment required at least one piece of furniture nobody could fit through the door.
I laughed until my ribs hurt.
Later, alone, I sent Adrian a brief medical update: healthy development, no complications reported, next routine check scheduled. He thanked me without asking for the hospital name or a copy of the chart.
May you like
I set down my phone and waited for a second demand. None came.
In the silence I began sketching a compact crib with rounded corners. It wasn't a command to a contractor. It was a possibility, made with pencil, that I could still erase.
