Cracks in the Sidewalk (3 page)

“Taking any supplements or medications I’m not aware of? Handling pesticides? Paints? Turpentine?”

Elizabeth shook her head again and again. When he’d run out of questions, Doctor Watkins scratched the name “Rebecca Sorenson” on a slip of paper and passed it across the desk. “This is an endocrinologist I’d like you to see.”

“Endocrinologist?” Elizabeth repeated nervously. “Why?”

“There’s something going on,” he said. “It could be gestational diabetes. An endocrinologist can say for certain.” Noticing the look of panic on her face, Doctor Watkins placed his hand atop hers.

“Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. “It happens with some pregnancies but virtually never results in birth defects. The hormone helping your baby to grow can block your production of insulin. But once you’ve given birth, your body reverts back to its normal state. Then the gestational diabetes usually disappears.”

“You’re sure this condition won’t be harmful to the baby?” Elizabeth asked.

Doctor Watkins shook his head, giving her hand a gentle pat.

That evening after tucking David and Kimberly into bed, Elizabeth sat on the sofa next to JT.

“I went to the doctor today,” she began, waiting for him to ask the obvious. He focused on the words of a market analyst explaining why a recent issue had unprecedented gains. 

“Well, if that don’t beat all,” JT grumbled. “Here I was gonna buy that stock and would’ve if I’d had the money.”

Elizabeth snapped off the television.

He glared at her angrily. “I was watching that.”

“I went to the doctor today.”

“Okay, so?”

“Doctor Watkins thinks I might have gestational diabetes. He told me I have to see a specialist. An endocrinologist.”

“Diabetes?” JT scoffed a sigh of intolerance. “No wonder, with all that ice cream you’ve been having. You should eat salads or something that doesn’t make you gain weight. Yeah, I know, the pregnant piggy has a craving for ice cream,” he muttered sarcastically. “Now I’ve got to pay for a specialist to tell you the exact same thing I’ve been saying all along.”

Elizabeth felt her eyes welling. “How could you say such an awful thing? Don’t you care about my feelings? Do you think I like being so overweight? Do you think—” She gave way to all that she’d held back and began sobbing.

“What about me?” JT said angrily. “You think I like having more bills than I can afford to pay? I bought this money pit for you! You’re the one who wanted a big house and lot of babies! Now I’m the one who’s stuck paying for it! I’m sick of it!”

He turned and stomped out of the room.

~ ~ ~

A
lmost two weeks passed before Elizabeth could actually bring herself to call Doctor Rebecca Sorenson, and then she did so only at the urging of her mother.

“Think of the baby!” Claire pleaded. “Think of yourself!”

Finally Elizabeth scheduled an appointment and nervously asked JT to go with her.

“Can’t your mother do it?” he answered.

“No. I was gonna ask her to stay here and watch the kids. I thought you might want to—”

“Will you stop?” he said, rolling his eyes. “You always do that. You make it sound like I don’t want to go with you. It isn’t that I don’t want to go, I can’t. I’ve gotta open the store. Who else is gonna do it? All the responsibility is on my shoulders, but does that bother you? Nope, not one bit. It’s never gonna end, is it?” 

“I only thought—”

He grabbed the remote control and turned up the sound.

~ ~ ~

O
n the first Tuesday of May, a day so unseasonably warm that women switched to sandals and men pulled short-sleeved shirts from the back of their closet, Elizabeth rose early. She showered, washed her hair, and left it to hang loose across her shoulders. Then she dressed in the one maternity outfit that still fit. By ten o’clock she and Claire sat in Doctor Sorenson’s waiting room, their fingers entwined.

This waiting room, with its line of light gray chairs pushed against a darker gray wall, had none of the usual baby magazines. No
Parenting.
No “What every mother needs to know” articles. Here, elderly people with brown spots freckling their hands read things such as
Living with Diabetes
and
Blood Pressure, the silent killer
. After waiting what felt like hours, a male nurse stepped from behind a closed door and called out, “Caruthers.” They stood and followed him through the hallway into a small but somewhat brighter examination room.

Doctor Rebecca Sorenson was not what they expected. For starters, she was young enough to make Claire wonder how long she’d actually been practicing. She was the type of woman men turned to look at—tall, slender, dark eyes, and flame-red hair. She entered the room with a welcoming smile and a file folder.

“Well now,” she said pleasantly, “let’s talk about this problem you’re having.”

Elizabeth related the experiences of her first two pregnancies then told of her extreme thirst, rapid weight gain, forgetfulness, and recent feeling of depression.

“Any history of diabetes in your family?”

“None.”

“Okay then, we start from square one.”

By the time Elizabeth watched Rebecca Sorenson write orders for several tests that afternoon, she had begun to like her. Her smile, the casual ease with which she spoke. Under other circumstances, Elizabeth could envision them becoming friends. Going to parties together. Book clubs maybe. Sharing recipes.

“Do you have any children yourself?” she asked.

“Afraid not,” the doctor answered laughingly. “I’ve yet to find my Mister Right.”

“Children are a true blessing,” Elizabeth said.

~ ~ ~

A
fter spending hours at a nearby clinic, Elizabeth and her mother returned to Doctor Sorenson’s office to learn the results of the tests.

Rebecca leafed through several pages of reports. “It looks like your obstetrician was correct. This is definitely not all baby weight. Something more is going on.”

“What is it?” Elizabeth asked nervously.

The doctor shrugged sympathetically. “We don’t know yet. The tests show certain abnormalities in your system, but the source of the problem isn’t obvious. We know it’s a neurological malfunction, but to pinpoint the origin we’d need a CT scan.” 

“Is that the next step?” Claire asked.

“Unfortunately no,” Doctor Sorenson replied. “We can’t do it while Elizabeth is pregnant. The scan involves radiation, and that’s harmful to an unborn child.”

She turned to Elizabeth. “Our best bet is to get you into the hospital. There, I can monitor you and control any complications that crop up. With a few more tests, maybe we’ll get lucky and find out what’s causing the problem.”

“But I have kids at home, I need to—”

Claire eased her arm across Elizabeth’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

Elizabeth looked at Doctor Sorenson and asked, “Will it? Is my baby really okay?”

“Right now, yes,” Rebecca said, “and I intend to do everything possible to make sure it stays that way. You’re the one I’m worried about.”

~ ~ ~

JT
had come to expect bad days. He’d settled into them the way one settles into riding an overcrowded bus. But this particular day was one of his worst. Before he left the house he and Elizabeth had another argument, and then Eleanor Morgan returned the opera coat she purchased last week claiming it was much too dressy.

“I can’t imagine what I was thinking,” she said as she collected her refund.

Not long after that, the sales representative from Lady Lorraine called to say his boss refused to ship any more merchandise until JT paid his outstanding invoices.

“You have three invoices that are over ninety days!” the rep growled. “You know our policy is ten days net!”

With his patience already worn thin, JT was unprepared for what greeted him at home.

“Where’s Liz?” he asked Claire, who tried to coax Kimberly into eating some green peas.

“In the hospital,” Claire answered, extending the pea-filled spoon toward Kimberly. “One little bite,” she cajoled. “They’re yummy, just try them.”

“Hospital? What hospital?”

“Saint Barnabas,” Claire answered absently. “But don’t worry, she and the baby are both okay. The doctor just wants to keep an eye on her.”  

“What for? What’s wrong?”

“They don’t know yet. Doctor Sorenson said they need a CT scan to know for certain…” She turned toward JT, and in that instant Kimberly’s hand shot out and sent the peas spiraling into the air.

“Shame on you doing that!” Claire scolded. She bent to retrieve the peas from the floor.

“When is this CT scan?” JT asked, ignoring the pea rolling past his shoe.

“She’s not having it, at least not now. It’s a radiation thing that’s dangerous for the baby.”

“So why is Liz staying in the hospital?”

“The doctor just wants to keep her under observation.”

“I can’t believe this!” JT said, slamming his fist against the wall. “How long is she gonna stay there? Until she has the baby? Until we don’t have another nickel to our name? Until I’m totally bankrupt?!”

Claire tossed the handful of peas in the sink.

“Elizabeth is sick,” she said, “really sick, and all you can think about is money? You should be ashamed!”

Jeffrey didn’t jump down her throat this time. He stood there with his shoulders curling toward his chest and a hateful look in his eyes. “You’re right,” he mumbled resentfully; then he turned and walked out.

Claire expected he’d return in an hour or so, after he had time to collect himself, after he had time to reconsider the value of money when weighed against caring for someone you love. But he didn’t come back. Claire finished feeding David and Kimberly, gave them their baths, and tucked them into bed. Still thinking he’d come through the door any minute, she waited until nine-thirty then called Charlie and suggested he fix himself some soup.

“There’s no telling how long I’ll be here,” she said.

It was after eleven when she fell asleep on the sofa. When she woke the next morning, Jeffrey still had not returned.

Claire began to worry. She telephoned Charlie to ask if he’d heard anything from Jeffrey. 

“Afraid not,” he said. “But I doubt he’d call me.”

Claire fed the children breakfast, read three stories, and dusted the living room furniture. When it was almost ten-thirty, she telephoned Maria Ramirez, a neighborhood babysitter, and asked for help. Claire got into her car and drove to Saint Barnabas Hospital. She walked into Elizabeth’s room, wondering how to bring up Jeffrey—but there he stood, unshaven and still wearing yesterday’s shirt. 

“Hi,” he said, looking sheepish. 

“Hi,” Claire answered, without showing her irritation. She crossed the room and planted a kiss on Elizabeth’s forehead.

“Guess what, Mom?” Elizabeth said. “JT thinks I might get to go home today.”

“Home?” Claire echoed. “Doctor Sorenson said that?”

“Well, actually, JT hasn’t spoken to her yet, but I’m sure she’ll agree. He says my color is good and I look well-rested.”

Jeffrey wrapped his arm around Elizabeth in that same possessive way he did years ago and smiled.

Claire lowered herself into the chair alongside the bed and replied, “You’re not going anywhere until Doctor Sorenson says so!”

“But, Mom,” Elizabeth stammered. “JT said the kids need me at home, and we can’t afford—”

Claire felt the muscles in her face grow hard.

“The kids are doing just fine,” she said. “And as your husband, JT should concern himself with your well-being, not the cost of it!”

“He’s worried about taking care of our whole family—”

“Well, JT won’t have to reach into his pocket for a dime,” Claire said in an icy voice. “We’ll pay whatever your insurance doesn’t cover.” When a look of satisfaction slid onto his face, she added, “Providing he does not discuss money with you again while you’re in the hospital.”

“Mother McDermott,” JT spat, “I think you’ve misunderstood my intention. I certainly didn’t intend to upset either you or Liz. I simply thought I should mention—”

“Well,” Claire said gruffly, “I suggest you don’t
mention
it again!”

JT gave her a look of disdain, then said he had to get going since it was long past time for him to open the store.

Once he left, Elizabeth fell asleep and Claire studied her daughter. Elizabeth had never looked worse. Her fingers were puffed out like fat sausages, and her body was nearly twice its normal size. Her dry, crackled skin looked more yellow than pink. Claire knew Elizabeth was sick—sicker perhaps than anyone realized.

Claire McDermott

M
any people believe the love shared by a man and woman is the most powerful on earth, and in some ways it probably is. On the day Charlie and I were married I thought I’d never know anything sweeter; but once I felt our baby at my breast I realized how big a heart truly is.

I’m only one person; Charlie too. But Elizabeth is the best of both of us. We loved her long before we saw the blue of her eyes and felt her tiny fingers locked onto ours, long before she looked up at us trusting we’d take care of her. When she was barely more than a flutter beneath my heart, I vowed that for as long as I had breath in my body I’d watch over her and keep her safe. Now she’s lying in a hospital bed, and I can’t do a thing to help her. I watch her suffer, and I suffer. Her pain is my pain.

It doesn’t matter how old Elizabeth gets, she’s still my baby. That’s why I had to choke back my rage when I saw Jeffrey hovering over her. Okay, he’s got financial troubles, but is he willing to sacrifice her health for a handful of dollars? The sorry truth is he’s a man who thinks the measure of money is greater than anything else life has to offer.

Liz is a lot like me—just give her a house full of kids and she’s happy. She loves babies. She’d have one every year if Jeffrey were willing, which he isn’t. Personally, I think that’s because he wants to keep her all to himself. He doesn’t even like sharing her with their children. The minute he gets home from the store, he expects her to put the kids to bed and sit beside him while he watches whatever
he
wants on television. When she decided to breast-feed David and Kimberly, he was visibly annoyed. He’d grouch and grumble every time she nursed one of those babies. That didn’t stop Elizabeth; she did it anyway.