On Monday night, Lorrie arrived in the pouring rain, the hood of a purple rain jacket cinched tight around her face. Evangeline invited her inside. This time, Lorrie didn’t hesitate, handing Evangeline the container so she could slip off her dripping coat.
Once they were in the kitchen, Evangeline felt shy. Should she offer to share the salad with Lorrie?
“You need anything else?” Lorrie asked.
“This is so nice,” Evangeline said, but it sounded stiff, like they were on a bad first date.
That nod again, then, “School going all right?”
Lorrie was probably wondering if she had made any friends, and that made Evangeline uncomfortable, though things were fine that way. Saturday at Natalia’s had been fun. Her mom had to go into work at the last minute—she was some kind of lawyer—but Evangeline and Natalia cooked tamales anyway. They enjoyed teasing her little sister, Sophie, who kept shouting that they were stupid even as she insisted on hanging around.
“It can be hard starting in the middle of things,” Lorrie said softly.
Evangeline realized she hadn’t answered, so she said, “School’s okay. Chemistry is kind of boring, but don’t let Isaac know I said that.”
Lorrie laughed. “Tell me about it. I’m trying to get through my nursing prereqs. That stuff is hard.”
“I thought Isaac said you were already some kind of nurse.”
“Not a nurse,” she said, lowering herself onto a chair. “I’m just a CNA, a certified nursing assistant. We change diapers and clean up puke.” She glanced at the bowl. “Sorry, not really dinner conversation.”
Evangeline lifted the lid of the Tupperware and peeked at the salad, disappointed to see more than the usual rash of cherry tomatoes. “But you know some things, right? Some medical stuff?”
“A little, I guess. Why? You worried about something?”
“Not really.” She glanced toward the salad. “Maybe lighter on the tomatoes?”
“What?”
“You said before. You know, if I didn’t like something, I could tell you.”
“Oh. Sure. No tomatoes.”
“No. Some tomatoes. I’m practicing eating disgusting things for the baby. Just not so many.”
Lorrie laughed, and it was easy, natural, like they’d been friends a long time. “But I think you’re worried about something else. Something medical?”
“I guess. It’s nothing really. Just a little bleeding. You know. On my panties.”
Lorrie’s brows furrowed. “How far along are you?”
“Ten, eleven weeks, something like that.”
“When did this start?”
“About five days ago. Just spotting. A little worse today. I put a tampon in just in case.”
“When did you do that?”
“A couple of hours ago.”
Lorrie sat up straighter, all those lean muscles kicking in. “Okay. That’s fine. But first, do you have any pads?”
“Yeah. There’re some in the bathroom.”
“Good. Why don’t you go take care of the tampon, see if there’s much blood, and then put on a pad instead. You want to be able to see what’s happening, and tampons are breeding grounds for bacteria. You don’t want that near the baby. While you’re doing that, I’ll call the after-hours line for your OB. The number is by the phone, right?”
Evangeline nodded, worried now.
“It’s not an emergency,” Lorrie said. “I’m pretty sure anyway. A lot of women spot in the first trimester, but since you’re at the tail end of that, I’d feel a lot better if we checked in with your doctor.”
When Evangeline returned a few minutes later, Lorrie was sitting at the table pretending to read the local paper.
“What’d they say?” Evangeline asked.
“I decided to wait to hear what you found. How was it?”
“Kind of the same, just a little reddish-brown stuff.” She wasn’t embarrassed to say things like this to Lorrie.
“Good. Now I want you to call the after-hours line and tell them what’s going on. I’ll be right here.”
“Really? Wouldn’t it be better if you did? I don’t want to bother them.”
“It was wrong of me to say I would. You need to see how easy it is to call if you’re worried. Besides, they might have questions I can’t answer. You’re not bothering them. That’s what they’re there for.”
Evangeline twisted her mouth and shrugged. What would the nurse on the line think of her? She was sixteen and pregnant and bleeding for a while and not calling. She’d had enough judgment thrown at her for a couple of lifetimes. Even her own mother had thought she was beyond help.
Lorrie gave a stern nod at the phone, and it was strange, because Lorrie was so clear and certain in her directive that Evangeline felt she had no choice. The on-call nurse asked the same questions as Lorrie, and it comforted Evangeline to know that someone smart about pregnancies lived next door. The nurse made Evangeline repeat back that she’d call her doctor’s office first thing in the morning.
As she hung up, Lorrie said, “Tomorrow’s my day off. I can take you whenever you need.”
Evangeline thanked her, and Lorrie stood to go. At the door, she said, “Call me first thing when you know the time of your appointment. My number’s by the phone. And if things change or you just wake up scared or anything else, call me, okay?”
Evangeline agreed, and Lorrie, as if sensing hesitation in her, said, “Anything else you’re worried about?”
“She said I should have called the day it started.” She glanced up, tried to gauge Lorrie’s face. “Said sometimes these things can be serious. You don’t think I hurt the baby, do you?”
Lorrie pulled Evangeline to her. Her arms were as dense and strong as bundles of knotted wire, and Evangeline felt a dull pain from the pressure on her ribs. Still, being held like that, like a child deserving comfort, made her want to cry.
After a moment, Lorrie pulled away, held her at arm’s length and said firmly, “You didn’t hurt the baby. You’re doing right by that little one. Next time you’ll know, is all.”