Disposition of Remains (28 page)

When I went inside to face Misty and Wilbur, I didn’t know where to begin. I’d only awakened a few hours before—after a week in bed—and my mind was spinning. I kindly requested that they let me explain in the morning.

“As long as I know you’re all right,” Wilbur said, gently.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m good,” I replied.

I couldn’t help but smile.

We said goodnight to Misty, then Wilbur and I went to bed. I could tell that Wilbur was dying to know what had transpired between my father and me.
My father
. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had always wanted a father; I’d wished for one every year on Christmas. But after the age of twelve, I’d given up on actually getting one—let alone the one I’d thought was dead. He wasn’t a replacement father; he was a bona fide biological one. The real deal.

I tore Wilbur’s clothes from his body as I had fantasized about doing at dinner. I was alive and I was going to act like it: animalistic and raw. I was so happy to be back in his arms. I had an incredible, sexy man who loved me; I had an aunt, a father, a best friend, and a job—just like that. Life would have been perfect, except for that pesky terminal-illness issue.

When I woke up in the morning, I found Misty and Wilbur sitting like puppies waiting for breakfast, eager to consume my detailed description of my exchange with Dr. Alexander Misalov. So I proceeded to tell them everything.

As I was relaying to them all that my mother had done to deceive the both of us, I realized that I no longer harbored any real resentment toward her. Instead, I felt sorry for her. She
was a lost soul.

I spent the next few
days with Wilbur, walking The Strip, eating out, chatting, and laughing endlessly. I remember those days fondly—the days before our lives changed forever.

Part 6

Deliverance

I decided to buy a car in which to make the trek back to Los Angeles. I financed it by putting my new job down as a reference. The sixty-month term of the loan may have been a bit unrealistic—and somewhat fraudulent, but it kind of felt good to deceive the car dealership, instead of the other way around. How often does that happen?

I signed the papers, not caring whether Evan found me anymore, although I was fairly certain he had stopped looking. I bought a lime-green Volkswagen Bug—a newer, more reliable version of Misty’s beatnik-mobile.

As Wilbur and Misty prepared to meet Paul in Sedona, I headed down the long desert road to Los Angeles once again. I had called Jerry’s office a few
days prior to make an appointment, although I knew he would be furious. I figured that if I saw him first in the safe environment of his office, he might take it easy on me. Even though Jerry and I hadn’t been as close as I would have liked during the Evan years, he was still my lifelong friend, and I owed him a serious apology for taking off without so much as calling him.

I couldn’t help but smile when Jerry opened the door to his exam room. As livid as I knew he would be, I was so glad to see him.

“Stacia? What in the hell are you doing?” Jerry demanded. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

His cheeks flushed a shade somewhere between red and purple—violet, maybe.

“I know, I know. But, Jerry, I swear this time, I’ll do whatever you say.”

“I want you to do exactly the same thing I wanted you to do the last time you were here! Go to the lab and get your blood work, get your ultrasound, and I’ll see if Dr. Jenkins isn’t too pissed off to make time for you.”

“Done.”

Then Jerry lunged at me and squeezed me tight.

“I don’t know why you did this, Stacia. I called and called you. Your cell phone is disconnected, and your bastard husband wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“I left him.”

“Wow, that’s great!”

Jerry smiled briefly, and then resumed an expression of concern.

“The longer you wait, the harder this is going to be to treat.”

“I know.”

I gave Jerry a quick summary of my recent events before he excused himself to attend to his next patient. We agreed to meet later for dinner. Fortunately, Jerry could never stay mad for long.

I took my blood slip—marked “stat”—to the lab and let the vampires go to work. I knew it would be just the beginning of the poking and a whole variety of other tortures, but I was ready now to take a chance that it all might afford me some more time on
this planet.

Afterward, I walked down to the radiology department to have my ultrasound. I was instructed to have a full bladder, so I downed a half a gallon of water on the spot. It soon became incredibly unpleasant, to say the least, considering that they kept me in the waiting room far past my scheduled appointment time.

The ultrasound technician was a twenty-something-year-old named Amber, who, I imagined, would much rather have been texting or shopping than staging my tumor. It felt so bizarre inviting other people into my sad truth. Would Amber care about what was going to happen to me? Would her eyes bulge and her jaw drop at the size of my mass? I cringed as she dug around in my full bladder with the ultrasound wand.

“Mrs. Altman…”

“Call me Stacia,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Do you want to know the sex?”

I stopped cringing and sat straight up. I didn’t know cancer had a gender.

“What did you just ask me?”

“I just want to know before we go any further if you want to know the sex of the baby, or if you’d rather it be a surprise?”

I already assumed that Amber must be disinterested in her job, but this was really outrageous—malpractice, even. How insensitive could someone be to
assume
I was there because I was expecting rather than dying?

“I think you’ve misunderstood.”
What a twit.
“I’m here to stage my cancer.”

With a baffled look on her face, Amber grabbed my referral.

The poor girl, she probably just graduated from high school yesterday.
I felt her pain, but I still wanted to throttle her. I imagined her going home that night completely mortified by her mistake.

Shaking her head, Amber set down the referral. She then turned the monitor in my direction.

“Mrs. Altman…”

“It’s Stacia, for God’s sake!”

My full bladder combined with her stupidity were making me quite irritable.

“Stacia, look; I want to show you something.”

She moved the wand again over my mass. This time, I saw…and heard. It had a heartbeat.

“What the fuck?!” I yelled, not caring how it sounded.

“Mrs. Altman—I’m sorry—Stacia, that’s not a mass. It’s a baby. I’m guessing you are about eighteen weeks along.”

“But, wait. That’s not possible. I tried for so long…
Oh my God!...Oh my God!...You mean I’m not gonna
die?”

“Well, I didn’t say that…I mean, I don’t know. All I know is
that
mass is a baby. It’s a baby boy,” Amber reiterated, pointing to the screen.

Just as Amber’s words were starting to register with me, Jerry suddenly burst into the exam room with a cluster of papers in hand.

“Stacia! Your labs are all perfect; the CA125 is—”

Jerry caught a glimpse of the screen and stopped in his tracks.

“Holy crap!!! Is that a fetus?”

“Yes!!!” I squealed.

I jumped off the table and grabbed Jerry, causing my unbuttoned pants to fall to the floor.

“The medicine man was right! I did have gas!”

“Say what?”

You’re the worst doctor ever!” I told Jerry, half laughing, half crying.

Jerry, Amber, and I all jumped up and down together in some sort of crazy football-type huddle.

“I saw the coyote. He wasn’t fooling me. I was fooling myself!” I howled.

“What on Earth are you talking about, you crazy woman who’s invaded Stacia’s body?”

Before I could answer, I came to a horrible realization.

“My God, Jerry. Eighteen weeks. This baby is Evan’s!”

Somehow, that evil monster had managed to impregnate me. Oddly enough, dying would have solved a lot of problems for me. No pressure to make long-term decisions. No need for a divorce. No need to talk to Evan ever again. I had spent all that time planning my death. Not only was I going to live, but I was going to have to face my life; I was going to have to face Evan…again. And suddenly, I had a baby to think about.
My baby
.

“Just shut up and finish your ultrasound,” Jerry commanded with a grin.

Jumping up and down, it turns out, is not a good idea when you have a full bladder and a baby sitting on top of it.
A baby!

“Is it all right if I go to the bathroom now?” I asked while doing a little
dance.

“Sure. I don’t need a full bladder when you’re this far along,” poor, little Amber replied.

I had misjudged her as a twit when, clearly, she was far more intelligent than I was.

I collapsed onto the toilet with my face on my knees. I would probably have remained
there, in a catatonic state, but I knew that Jerry and Amber would be waiting for me.

I did take the time, however, to give myself a nice, long stare
in the mirror, saying aloud, “You are the stupidest person on the planet.”

As I emerged, pale and bug-eyed, Jerry said, “This is good news, Stacia. You don’t have ovarian cancer. You have a baby!”

“I know, Jerry, I know. I just…I knew what to do when I had cancer. I had it all figured out. I don’t know what to do with a baby.”

It took a minute for me to grieve the loss of my death. But only a minute. Then, once I started to smile, I couldn’t stop.
My baby.
Those two words just kept repeating over and over in my head.

“Jerry, I haven’t taken care of myself at all,” I
began to ramble, grabbing the lapel of his lab coat. “I just spent a week barely eating.”

“As a gerontologist, and a gay man,” he whispered, “babies and pregnant people really aren’t my forte, but from what I understand, the baby will take what it needs from your body whether you take great care of yourself or not. They’re like little parasites.”

“Don’t talk that way about my baby!” I exclaimed.

My baby.

“I went on a huge drinking binge after I the last time I saw you. I haven’t had any prenatal care. I rode a horse. I’ve been on planes and helicopters. I hung over a waterfall. I did everything you’re not supposed to do when you’re pregnant, aside from throwing myself down the stairs.”

“If you would just lay down, Stacia, and let Amber finish your ultrasound, I’m sure we’ll know a lot more about where things stand. I’m gonna go change your referral from the oncologist to the gynecologist,” Jerry muttered, far less embarrassed than one would expect.

“Actually, she needs an obstetrician,” Amber interjected.

“Right. I’m all over it,” Jerry replied, rushing off.

Amber continued my exam. She showed me arms and legs, a face, and even a tiny, little penis. Once Amber had confirmed that everything looked fine. I was so grateful that when I left the office, I bought her a Coach purse.

That was the first time I’d ever willingly shopped in a mall for some designer item. It was also my last. From that point on, I adopted more of Misty’s “anything goes” attitude toward apparel.

As I was shopping I thought,
How do I tell Wilbur?
I’m not dying…I was just kidding...ha, ha. Oh, and I’m pregnant with another man’s baby, just FYI.

I decided I couldn’t worry about that right then. One worry at a time.

Jerry managed to get me an “emergency” appointment with an obstetrician by the name of Dr. Manuel Hernandez, who asked me to call him ‘Dr. Manny.’

When I told Dr. Manny that I hadn’t even realized I was pregnant, he laughed and said, “You’re not the first one. I have seen women who realized much later than you.”

Dr. Manny reassured me that I had found out in plenty of time to avoid any unnecessary complications, but still, I remained on edge as he reviewed my ultrasound and my labs.

Then he peered at me over his glasses and asked, “You know you’re having twins, right?”

He quickly retracted his statement when he saw the shocked look on my face.

“Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood. You’re so tense!”

He laughed and gave me a slap on the leg. Most might have been put off by his joke, even offended, but not me. He reminded me of a slightly older version of Jerry. I liked him right away.

Later that night, at dinner with Jerry, I listened as he told me all about his latest failed love affairs, which were numerous considering it hadn’t been that long since we’d last spoken. But I was distracted and was only partially paying attention. Finally, I interrupted and began rambling on about my baby.
My baby!
I was having “nesting” fantasies, wondering what Misty and Wilbur, and even Evan, might think of the new addition.

“My mom always had a feeling that your mother was hiding something,” Jerry confided after I gave him the unabridged version of my tale. “Even though they were friends, your mother was never very open with mine.”

“I have to go see your mom!” I exclaimed, interrupting again. Jerry’s mother had always been like a second mother to me. I had spent so many nights with her and Jerry while my mother was away. Even when I was old enough to stay on my own, I still spent most of my time at their house. 

“She still lives in Vegas
—very convenient for you,” Jerry quipped. “Hey, why don’t we have a sleepover, like in the old days?”

“Sounds awesome.”

We went back to Jerry’s house and spent the evening talking and giggling like teenagers. We snuggled together and watched old home movies. Jerry drank Champagne and gave me some of that bubbly apple-cider stuff. It was fantastic. When he offered to let me stay with him if things didn’t work out for me in Vegas, I felt so liberated, like I could go anywhere or do anything, except for what my pregnancy disallowed. It was so crazy that it had taken believing that I was dying to actually force me to live.

And I
was
going to live!