I sit in the waiting room. I don’t have an appointment today, but I said I’d go to the doctor. Don’t know why I didn’t think of coming to hang out here before. It’s better than the library. Clean, comfy sofas all done up with matching cushions. Views of the Hudson. People wait here all day, going in and out of appointments. I totally fit in, seeing as I’m pregnant. Don’t matter my age. No one here’s gonna ask me why I’m not at school. And there’s food.
I put down the preggo magazine I’m reading. I stand, slowly, and stretch my arm. My back and shoulder ache. I’m gonna be bruised all up and down to Sunday. I take baby steps to the fridge for another juice. Swipe my fourth pack of cookies. Head back for the chair in the corner, the one behind the column where no one can see me.
“Ms. Pujols?”
Coño. The lady at the front desk saw me. I’ve been here so much, she knows me. I make eye contact but don’t say nothing.
“Who are you seeing today?”
“Dr. Love.” I say it without thinking.
Front Desk Lady’s eyebrows scrunch up. “He usually sees patients up here on Mondays and Thursdays. Are you sure you have the date correct?”
Coño. And coño. Now I’m gonna have to go. That’s what I get for being greedy. But Angelo really likes the cookies and juice. I sling on my coat. Pain cuts up my side, making my eyes water. I don’t want to go back to the library. I just want to stay here. Where I can sit and be warm and not move for a while.
“Hold on, honey. Let me page Dr. Love for you. You don’t look so good—if you don’t mind me saying.”
I hate when people feel sorry for me. Plus, I don’t want to see Doc. Not like this.
I head for the bathroom still not looking at Front Desk Lady. I try to wash dirt off my cheek. It doesn’t come off. ’Cause it’s not dirt.
I slip out of the bathroom, planning to head down the hall for the back exit. But Doc is here. Waiting for me.
He’s smiling. His usual. It only takes a second for shock to slam his smile to the side.
“Mari? What happened?” His lips flatten. His fingers curl. It makes me think of claws. I’ve never seen angry lion before.
I look at my feet. “Nothing,” I choke out. I will not cry. I will not cry.
“Stephanie, is 1202 available?” Doc calls over to Front Desk Lady. She answers and he takes my arm. I try not to wince. He notices and lets go.
“Mari.” He whispers it, like a scolding. Then, in his regular doctor voice he says, “Follow me.”
He shuts the door behind us. Out of habit, I turn to the exam bed. It’s way high.
“Talk to me,” he orders. “I knew something must be wrong. You never mix up your appointments.”
I lean against the table. No way I can climb up with my knee all busted.
“Who did this to you?” Doc crosses his arms. He studies me, all outraged and suspicious.
Is it crazy that I want him to touch me? That I want to feel the weight of his hand on my shoulder? I imagine him doing it. I imagine leaning into him instead of the table. I imagine telling him. Telling him everything that’s happened. He would say it’s okay. He would say I’m safe now.
I don’t say nothing. I go to clench the exam bed but stop because the paper crackles too loudly.
Doc shakes his head. He takes a chair and pulls it close. He sighs. “Did you fall?” His voice is quieter now.
I nod.
“Can you feel the baby moving?”
I nod. I close my eyes and grit my teeth.
He leans back. His chair rolls a few inches away from me. “That’s good. But let’s just check by ultrasound to be sure. Hop up.” He hands me a sheet and powers on the machine. While he’s turned away, I try to pull myself onto the table.
He turns back too quick. “Oh, Mari.” He says it like I let him down. His gold eyes track me behind doctor glasses. He leans over and takes the control for the bed. He lowers it as low as it can go. So I don’t have to climb. I sit and pull my legs up.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” he says, turning back to the machine. “You have someone else to think of now.”
I try to figure what he means. Doing what? I thought I’d been doing a good job of coming to all my doctors’ meetings. Eating the right things. Drinking the right things. Finding a warm place for us to sleep. I’ve been doing the best I can.
Behind him, my name is white on the black screen. The cursor blinks at the end of a number, where he left off typing.
My number. The one that has all my records for this hospital.
“No more fighting, okay?” His mouth is tense, like’s he’s trying not to growl. He drapes the sheet over me. He hits the button to raise the bed.
He read about them. He must have. Three ER visits over two years. Stitches. A broken hand. Stitches again. I never ratted on nobody. Didn’t want trouble for Heavenly or her mama. Always said it was from fights at school. Other girls getting at my man or taking my stuff. Wasn’t true ’til the day that boyfriend left Heavenly’s mama for good. But fighting other girls never landed me in emergency. Girls are smarter. We know when to jump out of the way.
Sometimes a lie is easier to believe than the truth. This is one of those sometimes.
I did it for Heavenly. I’ve done it for Yaz and Teri, too. Someone messes with my tribe, they mess with me. I’m small, but I can be mean. Real mean. Everybody knows that.
Doc squirts on the jelly. He goes through the list of questions he always asks. About pee and weight gain. He lays the wand on me, gentle, so I don’t feel it. And there’s Angelo. I see his little head for a second before Doc zooms in on his chest. Angelo’s heart looks strong to me. Doc strikes a bunch of buttons, his hand moving over the keyboard faster even than Heavenly’s when she’s texting. The sound of my baby’s heart comes on loud. It sounds strong.
I close my eyes. I’m not going to tell Doc he’s wrong. What he thinks happened is better than what really did. I don’t care what Doc believes. I know there’s someone else to think about now. That’s why I’m doing all this. My baby’s heart may be ruined, but as long as he’s got a chance, I’m gonna fight. ’Cause that’s what I’ve always done.
Angelo moves and I feel it. He loves me. Even if I’m mean. Even if I’m a fighter. He’s not going to leave me neither. I’m not gonna let him.