Shimmers of Pearl (The Pearl Trilogy, Part 3) (8 page)

“I see here that you are forty years old.”

“Yes.”

“With a history of two miscarriages – one DNC,” she says, reading my notes.

I remember that awful time; when I went in for an ultra-sound and they discovered the baby had no heartbeat. I had been carrying about a dead fetus for two weeks and they had to operate immediately. “Yes, I had a DNC,” I say, suddenly profoundly grateful that I’m now pregnant, that God has given me another chance even if I am to be a single mother forevermore.

“How many times have you had sexual intercourse with your partner in the last few weeks?”

“Er…none.”

She nods with approval. “Good. You must abstain from sex for the first three months of pregnancy or you risk suffering another miscarriage.”

Well, that will be easy now that Alexandre is with Laura and I can’t even look at another man, let alone bed down with one.

The doctor continues, “Any penetration is dangerous for a woman of your age with your medical history. You will not find this written in any textbook and most modern-day doctors would poo-poo this idea but, believe me, old wives’ tales are very often true.”

I stare at her bemused.
Abstain from sex??
What has this got to do with my herbal massage?

She goes on matter-of-factly, “No penetration but you can do other, non-invasive sexual practices. No massages, least of all with powerful oils that can upset the body’s hormone-balance. You must not even indulge in reflexology; too much stimulation. Some doctors believe abdominal massage is good as it gets the blood flowing. I do not, unless it is very gentle and with your own hands – do not go to a massage therapist for the first three months or you could lose your child. You’re forty; this could be your last chance at pregnancy, you need to take all the precautions you can.”

I eye her suspiciously. Is she some kind of quack? “I’ve never heard of this before. It seems so extreme.”

“Once, my dear, people thought it was extreme when they were advised not to smoke and drink whilst pregnant. Believe me, I have been in this business all my life, since I could walk and talk – I have breathed it – every single member of my family, the men included, are doctors. We have picked up a few tips over the years.” She waggles her head in a figure of eight.

I observe her warily but I’m also fascinated by this information. My mother would have loved this woman – she hated conventional medicine.

“Now, what I’m going to prescribe for you, Pearl, is simple. One baby aspirin a day. This will safeguard you against any premature clotting. Stay off caffeine, alcohol and away from second-hand smoke - eat plenty of fresh vegetables and protein, but you probably already know all that. No heavy exercise at the gym, no jogging.”

“Is swimming okay?”

“Swimming is perfect but don’t train for the Olympics.” She smiles. “Folic acid in a multi-vitamin, B6, B12 and omega 3’s,” she states briskly.

“I already bought all that at the pharmacy, and fish-oil tablets.”

“Good. I’m going to give you a painless saliva test to see your progesterone levels and if they are low I’ll prescribe a completely natural progesterone cream. Progesterone is responsible for creating a healthy environment in the womb by creating and maintaining a healthy uterine lining. If more people used this treatment a lot of miscarriages could be avoided. All you need is a pea-sized amount of cream on your finger which you can rub into a different area each time, just once a day - somewhere the skin is thin; your breasts, face, upper thighs. It’s completely natural, no synthetics, no harmful ingredients.”

She sticks something into my mouth to do the saliva test. My mind wanders off to my baby-to-be - that is, if it can survive the next couple of months up until the first trimester, the most precarious. Will he be blond or dark? Will she have Alexandre’s curvy red lips and his crooked smile? Will she be proud like him? Will he break hearts like his father…

“Oh, and one more thing,” the doctor says assertively. “Try to keep your cell phone calling to a minimum. Radiation levels are harmful and can impair fetal brain development. Nobody will tell you this and few people want to listen but—”

“No, you know what, doctor? I think it would be a great idea to dump my phone, once and for all. It’ll be safer for both me and the baby.”

***

Alexandre may have been stalking me through my cell but I am stalking Rex. I miss that dog. I can’t break our bond. On my way back home, I get off the bus at Central Park South and walk into the park, listening to Michael Jackson sing
Ben
, the best love song ever written about an animal. But instead of ‘Ben,’ I sing along with the word, Rex.

I know Sally’s schedule – she and Rex will be somewhere near the big bronze Alice in Wonderland statue, chit-chatting with her dog owner friends discussing their ‘children’s’ behavior and comparing notes. Will I be doing the same soon? Only, with a human child, not a four-legged one? I guess I should join prenatal classes and discuss breastfeeding options and which is the best brand of diapers.

Maybe I’ll be coming to this spot, myself, watching my child climb on Alice. Unlike most sculptures, children are invited to climb, touch and crawl all over Alice and her friends. In fact, through the decades, thousands of hands and feet have literally polished parts of the statue’s bronze surface completely smooth. I observe Alice now, sitting on a giant mushroom reaching toward a pocket watch held by the White Rabbit. Peering over her shoulder is the Cheshire Cat, surrounded by the Dormouse, Alice’s cat Dinah, and the Mad Hatter and yes, I see Rex and Sally not far off, just behind this landmark, Rex sniffing a fellow mate.

Sally loves to pass by here every day. With her shocking pink pigtails and punk rocker outfits, Sally is an eternal child. Alexandre found her walking dogs with one of the dog walking companies that roam the Upper East Side. The handlers typically walk ten dogs at a time all leashed, making sure their right hand is free for picking up dog poop with wads of newspaper stuffed in their back pocket. Sally makes three times the money, now, being Rex’s personal nanny.

“Hi Sally,” I shout, rushing over to Rex to hug him.

“I wish you’d come home, Pearl,” Sally grumbles with a sad pout. “Alexandre is a bit mopey without you there.”

“Really?” I ask, thrilled to know he may be suffering a little (obviously not enough, though, to stop seeing Laura).

“Yes, really. He’s always on the phone doing business – doesn’t smile much these days, his temper’s short; he seems to have lost his sense of humor.”

“Have you seen Laura?”

“No, who’s she?”

I try to sound casual but fail miserably. “Do you ever hear him speaking to a woman on the phone – you know, sweet-talk.”

“The only person he’s been talking to more than usual is his mother. I know it’s her because he has one voice for his mom and one for Sophie. You know his ‘mom voice’ is super-protective – it’s very cute. Not that I understand French but I can hear the tone.”

“No lovey-dovey talk with other women, then?”

Sally shuffles her big biker boots along the muddy grass. “No way! He obviously misses his precious Pearl. Sometimes I hear him say so to Rex, discussing how lost they are without you. Not that Rex can talk, but you know, I think he understands. And the other day, Alexandre gave me a whole bunch of photos of you – I was asked to drop them off at the framers. Like I said, he’s either working or moping about you all day long. Rex is sleeping in his bed now.”

“You’re kidding?”

“I know! Alexandre snuggles up with Rex everywhere. He’s now allowed on all the couches, even the bed. Since you’ve gone all Alexandre wants to do is be with his dog.”

“Has Alexandre been traveling lately? To London?”

“Yes, he went to London last week.”

“I see.” I am now reminded of my mission. To forget about Alexandre for good and let him go - move on with my life. He has Laura now – he can’t have us both.
Be strong, Pearl.
“Oh, Sally, I have something for you.” I bring out my Smartphone and hand it to her. “A gift for you. It’s already unblocked.”

She jumps up and down and her pigtails swing as if in celebration. “Wow! Really! But this is like, brand new – this Smartphone is the best!”

“It’s a great phone. It has advantages. You can keep your gloves on when you dial a number – not all Smartphones let you do that. Handy here in New York with the cold winters.”

Sally’s Cheshire Cat smile is spread across her whole face. “This is the greatest gift ever.”

“Don’t let Alexandre know I was asking about him.”

“Okay, sure.”

“And if you hear any information about Laura, pass the word along.”
Oops! I have just broken my own resolution to put him out of my mind.
I add hastily, as if to excuse myself, “I just worry about him, that’s all.”

“Of course. You have my word this is just between us.”

Sally, Rex and I meander about the park for a good half hour before I wend my way back home.

I am cell phone-less and it feels great. After all, once upon a time we humans made dates with people, arranged a time in advance and turned up. We couldn’t cancel at the last second and flake-out when a better deal came up. We were responsible people, once. We could spell: see you tonight, not C U 2 nite. We had attention spans of more than five minutes at a go. We painted, sketched and wrote in notebooks, not just flicked like mindless idiots through our Facebook and HookedUp pages, worrying about what everyone else was doing and living vicariously through them. Yay! I am no longer shackled-down with invisible chains to my social-media addiction!

It’s a wonderful feeling with no cell to know I am not being spied upon nor stalked. I feel liberated and brain tumor-free. Most of all, I feel protective of that tiny bundle inside me; not that there is much evidence; no more swelling than a large bowl of pasta or rice wouldn’t do. There is life within me and it feels incredible, especially as I am so in love with its maker, despite Alexandre being a heartbreaking bastard, I will still love everything about his future offspring…

Because deep down inside me (call me a clueless fool), I feel there must be some mistake – he cannot be lying to me, he does love me.

Yet – I need to get a grip - all the evidence is there, clear and sharp as crystal – he still can’t give up Laura.

***

A week has passed by. Sneaking off for my secret Rex
rendez-vous
has become a regular habit. If I can’t have Alexandre, himself, I can feel close to him through his beloved dog. Today I’ve arranged to take Rex alone.

I meet Sally at the entrance at Sixty Forth Street by Central Park Zoo. Rex is there waiting, all excited. Funny how Labradors and Labrador mixes wiggle the middle of their torso when they wag their tails. He’s ready for his tour around the park.

I kiss Sally hello and give her a one hundred dollar bill. “Have a nice breakfast.”

She shakes her head; her Cerise-colored pigtails swing in surprise and her wildly plucked eyebrows, which seem no more than painted curves, shoot up. “Pearl, this is way, way too much.”

“I don’t have change,” I lie, wondering if she has caught onto my not-so-subtle bribe. It’s good to have Sally on my side, to get snippets of information about Alexandre, know where he’s going and when he’ll return. “Treat yourself to something delicious. I’ll meet you back here in an hour and a half.”

“Are you going to the Central Park Paws event this morning?”

Only dog-mad Sally could know about such a thing as Central Park Paws. “No,” I answer, “but tell me more, I’m intrigued.”

“Well, Central Park Paws hosts regular events for dog owners in the park. Today is Monthly Bagel Barks – it gives dog owners the chance to meet, talk and have breakfast while the dogs enjoy some off-leash playtime. It starts in fifteen minutes until nine o’clock.”

“I’m so sorry, Sally, am I robbing you of your meeting? We can go together if you like.”

She looks at the hundred dollar bill and says, “No, it’s okay, I’ve always wanted to go to the Carlyle for breakfast …well, thanks so much, Pearl. Have a nice walk.”

The Carlyle – where Alexandre and I had that dreaded breakfast when I hadn’t been honest with him about wanting to do a documentary about HookedUp and he lost his temper with me. This is the third time we have split up and this time I fear it’s for good. It still doesn’t make sense – he doesn’t strike me as a person who would lie but the evidence is there – he can’t keep away from Laura. She has some kind of emotional hold over him, no matter how in love with me he claims to be. I want him so badly but this time I must keep my resolve.

I wave Sally good bye and Rex and I go into the park. It is covered in a blanket of fresh, untrammeled snow and looks like a fairy-tale; the sky a clear, icy blue. Some pale crystal flakes flutter through the air – it’s snowing, but only just.

We start wending our way across the twisting paths and buried grass towards Bethesda Fountain to the other side of the lake, now frozen, near to the woods and where I can confidently unleash Rex to run free and sniff about. I love New York. Here in Central Park, you are allowed let your dog off the leash before nine a.m. and again after nine at night. Not that I would brave Central Park at night alone – just in case. I let Rex loose; he’s so well behaved that I don’t have to worry about him escaping, unlike Zelda, the beautiful Husky of my childhood years.

We walk at a fast-paced clip, my thermal boots squeaking on the powdery snow, my huge, floor-length overcoat brushing against itself, whooshing and shuffling in muffled silence. Hardly anyone is around, just a few other dogs and people walking with purpose as if they are going home after an all-nighter or cutting through the park to work. It’s still only seven thirty.

“Stop it, Rex,” I scold, as he pees against a lumpy, half-melted snowman with a drooping carrot for its nose. I take the carrot between my gloved fingers and push it further inside its head. “There we go, Mr. Snowman, you’ll last a little longer.”

I zip along swiftly in the direction of the woody grove – New Yorkers walk fast – no meandering ever; you can get mugged that way. I wear eyes in the back of my head. This part of the park is remote. When I hear footsteps behind me I am aware of what a risk-taker I am. Rock-climbing, trapezes, going with two footballers to their dorm alone and dating a man too young for me with such a rampant sexual appetite he desires more than one woman to satiate him; he’d date us both simultaneously if he could get away with it. When will I ever learn? The footsteps are male, booted, tough…Holy crap! I spin around, my fists in balls and call Rex over to my side. I need to clip him back into his leash to show the world I’m a woman with a black Pit-bull mix…DON’T MESS WITH ME!