CHAPTER NINE
December 15, 2039 — Voyos Island
“You need to see a doctor,” Veronica said.
Nicole looked over. They were sitting by the pool, in the restraint area: the small alcove where she and Clive had once violated spa convention after she’d sat on a Rocket Pop.
“I’m fine.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Veronica said, eyeing Nicole’s giant belly.
Nicole kept her face inscrutable, wearing large sunglasses with tortoiseshell frames. They were partly to block the sun and partly for modesty. Now that her pregnancy was entering what seemed to be its 47th week, she’d grown particularly hormonal and moody. It was cruel. Just as she otherwise might have been getting over her past attachments, Clive’s baby had begun playing marimba on her emotions. She cried at a moment’s notice.
“I’m fine.” Nicole repeated it with the same sense of finality she’d used when Veronica had practically broken into her house and dragged her out of her self-imposed hermit’s funk.
Nicole hadn’t wanted to leave her bed. Veronica had literally pulled her to sitting, stripped her, and tied on her bikini in a display that the pregnancy fetishists would have absolutely iced their underwear watching. She’d eventually agreed to leave on the condition that Veronica would keep her dumb logical opinions to herself.
“Maybe you’re fine physically,” Veronica said, “but holy shit are you screwed between the ears. It’s okay, honey. You think you’re the first girl to fall for a client?”
“I didn’t fall for him.”
Veronica made a sympathetic face. “Listen, Nicky. Your baby needs you to be well everywhere. You think your stress isn’t getting sent to him?”
“Her,” said Nicole. “It’s a girl.”
“You finally went to the clinic?”
Nicole shook her head. She didn’t feel like explaining. The baby was a girl. Because that’s what she wanted.
“Hon,” Veronica said, “there are things that should be checked. I know you’ve got a midwife, but the doctors can find more. Simple things, like if the baby is wrapped up in its cord. Surely it won’t hurt to have that looked at, right? The baby can strangle and die.”
Nicole didn’t dignify Veronica by glancing over. “No.”
“Then at least get your midwife over early. They can find that kind of thing too. They know all of the parts nearly as good as doctors.”
Nicole turned toward the pool. She didn’t feel sad. She felt strangely numb. Between her eyes and the pool, her giant stomach loomed like the head of an obstructive moviegoer. What did Veronica know? On the books, Nicole didn’t even have a uterus for her 11-month baby. If the midwife started poking around in there, she might find anything.
“I’ll call the midwife when my contractions start.”
“Let me call her. She can come to your house when we go back. I’ll stay with you, just to … you know.”
Nicole closed her eyes, trying to be patient. Veronica was a nice girl. She had bright red hair and her smile could light a warehouse floor. She worked a horizontal cell with a line of sight to Nicole’s glass fetish table. Earlier in the day, they’d fucked their work partners while trading smiles and glances.
“You promised me that if I came to the pool with you, we could sit quietly in the sun,” said Nicole.
“You’re not right, baby. Clive messed you up.”
“I’m fine, Veronica.”
“We’re all here for you. You get that, right? There’s no shame in accepting help or admitting that you’ve been hurt.”
Nicole sighed. “Okay, fine. I was hurt. But I’m over it.”
“I don’t think you are.”
“I’m fine.”
“Hon, you are not fine. I know you’re telling yourself that Clive is the father of your baby.”
“He is.”
“But he was away when the baby was conceived. He can’t be the father. I know you know that, Nicky. The way you won’t admit it makes me feel like you’re … well … sick.”
Nicole took off her sunglasses and stared hard at Veronica. She’d been wearing her game face, ready to continue the discussion. But Nicole’s glare closed her mouth. Then, slowly, she put her own sunglasses on and reluctantly sat back.
“I’m worried about you, Nicole,” she said after a moment, gazing up at the blue sky.
Nicole reached to the side table, where she had a tall glass of iced tea. She took a sip, delicately pursing her lips around the straw.
“Veronica,” she said after a moment, “have you ever seen Pretty Woman?”