The island’s medical suite has state-of-the-art equipment—anything a billionaire and his closest hundred friends might need once they are among the only surviving humans on the planet.
A woman about ten years older than me stands up from behind a desk and circles around to meet me and Blue when we enter. “Hi,” she says with a smile. Merl has taken Nila and Frank with him to train with his dogs on the beach. We are going to meet afterwards in Dan’s suite for a council meeting before I fly out.
“Hi,” I say, shaking her offered hand. “I have an appointment, Sydney Rye.”
“Dr. Felicia Guilder.” She smiles. “Nice to meet you.” Her gaze drops to Blue. “And hello to you,” she says, her accent Scandinavian.
“This is Blue,” I say.
“Nice to meet you, Blue.” His tail wags in greeting. Dr. Guilder’s gaze rises to mine—her eyes are blueberry blue with curled black lashes. They crinkle on the sides when she smiles at me. “Come on back, let’s talk.”
Dr. Guilder leads me through to an examination room. It has the ubiquitous padded table covered in white paper with a blood pressure cuff hanging off the wall. But unlike most doctors’ offices, the window frames a view of the ocean. There is a low cloud cover today, so the sea shimmers silver.
I sit on the table, the paper crinkling under me. Blue's head reaches just high enough that he can rest his chin on my knee. Dr. Guilder takes a seat on the familiar little wheeled stool and wakes up her computer. “I went over your medical records this morning,” she says. “You’ve been through a lot. How are the hallucinations these days?”
“Mild,” I answer.
“Hmm,” she hums while reading over notes on the screen. “You worked with a Dr. Munkin in the States. Ketamine seems to have really helped. After the baby is born you may want to consider another treatment.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say. “I’m pretty good at telling what’s real, though.”
“That’s good.” She smiles at me, then returns her attention to the computer. “So how many weeks are you now?” she asks, scanning the screen.
“I’m not sure.”
Dr. Guilder looks over at me, a thought on her face I can’t quite read. I’m probably supposed to know that, to be consumed with the timeline. “Have you felt any movement?” she asks, her gaze tracking back to the monitor.
“Yes,” I say.
A smile raises her cheeks. “That’s good. And you know the sex?” she asks, her voice a little surprised.
“Yes, they told me at the end of my first trimester when I had my ultrasound. Said they could see it.”
“I guess he’s not shy,” she says.
“Sounds like me,” I joke.
She turns to me, still smiling, her expression communicating this is such a happy thing, this baby you’re having. And it reminds me that it is a happy thing. More than just the transformation of my life and identity, a whole new person—a not shy person, possibly—is coming into this world soon. A mix of Mulberry and me will be here in just a few months. Holy shit.
“Where do you plan to give birth?” she asks.
I take in a deep breath. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly, cringing a little. I’m 100% sure that I am supposed to know that by now.
Her smile softens, as though she sees the nerves her question set on edge. “It’s okay to not know these things, Sydney. You’re a first-time mom—and a peripatetic one at that. You will figure it out.”
“Do you have children?” I ask.
Her smile softens even more. “Yes,” she answers. “My daughter died but I’m still a mom.”
The impact of her words tighten my throat and sting my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say.
She nods, accepting my condolences with the grace of someone whose grief shines like a gem rather than weighs them down like a stone. “Thank you,” she says. “You could have the baby here,” she continues, changing the subject back to me. “We have all the facilities necessary—including a surgery bay in the case of a C-section.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” My hand finds Blue’s ear and begins to play with it. He leans harder against me, encouraging the pettings.
“If you plan on traveling, remember that thirty-six weeks is usually the cutoff for commercial flights because they don’t want you giving birth on board. I assume you mostly fly private, but even if you don’t need permission, your risks of blood clots do increase later in the pregnancy.”
I nod. “Yeah, I walked every two hours on my flights here.”
“Good, and you’re leaving again this afternoon. Going to Bora Bora.”
“Yeah, just for a night.”
“You may want to consider extending your trip,” she says. “Flying so often isn’t ideal.”
“Oh.” Robert would love that. I’d planned on bailing as soon as possible—avoiding any attempts at matrimonial bliss he might be planning. “I’m just trying to…” My voice fades as I realize I’m talking out loud. Dr. Guilder raises her brows in question. I shake my head. “Nothing.”
She turns to more fully face me. “This is totally confidential,” she says. “If you need to talk, I’m here to listen.”
“Marriage problems,” I say. Trying to sum up my issues with Robert in such a relatable package is like trying to convince people Blue is half Chihuahua—wrong, dumb, and fruitless.
“Pregnancy can complicate relationships,” Dr. Guilder says, putting it mildly.
“Yeah,” I cough a laugh. “Ours was complicated to begin with, but I know what you mean.” An image of Robert’s face—the awe in his gaze—when he felt my son move, his warm palm splayed over my stomach, fills my mind’s eye. I blink it away. That is not going to help me keep him at arm’s length in Bora freaking Bora.
“Are the issues in your relationship causing a lot of stress?” she asks, her voice gentle. Dr. Guilder sounds like she cares. She doesn’t even know me. My eyes sting again. Fucking pregnancy hormones. Jeez freaking Louise!
“Yeah, it’s a little stressful” I say. “But not as much as other things.” Like my insatiable and unclear urge to burn down society.
Dr. Guilder spins her stool so that she is fully facing me. “I’m sure you know this, and it’s almost obnoxious to say, but it’s important during pregnancy to control your stress levels.” She holds up a hand as if to ward off any arguments I might make. “I know, telling people not to stress is like telling a geyser not to blow. But I have to remind you that this is a short period in your life. Your son will be here in a little over three months.” Three months! My vision fuzzes a little at that truth bomb. “Any ways you can find to relax during this time will make everything easier during and after your birth. Get massages, take naps, be kind to your body.”
“Three months?” I question, immediately regretting letting the words out.
She nods sympathetically, seeming to recognize my total lack of preparation for motherhood.
“Everyone I love dies,” I say, jumping on those tracks and riding with such gusto I can’t keep the words inside my brain.
Her brow pulls together and she blinks. “What?”
“Sorry.” I shake my head. “That’s not totally true. I mean, the father is still alive. And a lot of my friends are.” I’m blabbering but can’t seem to stop. “But my brother—”
My voice chokes off before I can begin listing others and Blue lifts his head. I look down at him and he scoots even closer before tilting his head to rest it more fully on my thigh. I pet him, running my hand slowly from the top of his head down his neck. A tear slips free and I swipe at it quickly—as if wiping it away will take some of the emotion with it. “Pregnancy hormones,” I say, trying to explain the pain away.
Dr. Guilder doesn’t speak for so long that I finally look up. Her eyes are warm and comforting. “It’s okay to cry,” she says, which makes my throat close. “Becoming a mother is scary and new. It’s exciting too, though. Fear about the health of your child is completely normal. Especially when you live such a dangerous life. When you fight so hard for others, it is easy to forget to take care of yourself. But you must…” She pauses for a second, her eyes running over my face.
“You know how on airplanes they always say to put on your own oxygen mask first, then help others?”
I nod.
“Motherhood is kind of like that. If you don’t take proper care of yourself, then where will your kid be?” I cough a laugh, surprised by it. “Learning to take care of yourself during pregnancy is really good preparation for motherhood.”
Swiping at another tear, I nod. “Thank you,” I say. “I hear you…I’m just not used to being physically vulnerable.”
“I understand. You’ve just finished the second trimester, it’s got all the good hormones, you have energy, you’re not sick anymore.” I nod. “The third can be rougher, you’ll be more tired. It’s your body telling you to slow down. It won’t let you not take care of yourself. Nature has a way of forcing us into things.”
“Great,” I say with a laugh. “I’m not very good at being forced into stuff.”
Dr. Guilder laughs too. “So maybe,” she says with a shrug, “get on board with mother nature. I’m guessing you have not thought much about maternity leave.” I shake my head. “You’ll need time to connect with your baby and to heal.”
“How long is normal?” I ask.
“Depends on where you are. In Sweden, where I am from, couples have 480 days of paid maternity leave to split between them. And we must be home all together for the first ten days—it is considered vital for familial bonding.”
I blink at her, quickly doing math in my head…which never goes well. “What?” I finally say.
She laughs. “In America, there is no government-required paid leave, though disability will cover a percentage of salary for eight weeks. Many employers offer weeks and even months of paid leave. So as you can see there are very different ways it can be done.”
“What do you suggest?” I ask.
“When we had our daughter, my husband and I split the time. We both took off six months—it was just the three of us together for that time. It was magical. I cherish it.”
“It sounds really nice…” I say, my mind conjuring images of Mulberry and me walking with a stroller, not worrying about anything but taking care of each other and our little boy. It doesn’t seem possible.
“I lost them a year later,” Dr. Guilder goes on. “In a terrorist attack.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
“Thank you.” She bows her head. “I tell you this because I want you to understand why that time is so important to me. I do not know if your husband’s schedule is flexible, but for all of you to be together, it is very special. And you will never regret it.”
“My husband is not the father,” I say. “Like I said, it’s complicated…”
Her eyes widen. “Oh,” she says, but recovers quickly. “Is the father still in your life?”
“Yes,” I nod. “And he wants this baby very badly.”
“That is good. Is his work flexible?”
“Yes, and I can take off as much time as I want,” I say, realizing it for the first time. Recognizing the privilege I have to decide what to do with my time. Everything in my life always feels so urgent, I spend my existence walking a fine line between life and death. But I could just stay here…on this island. Be safe and secure with my baby and Mulberry. Except every time I attempt something like that someone tries to kill me.
And Robert would come calling sooner rather than later. He wouldn’t let me hide away for that long. He would never let me have peace without him.