Page 28 of The Wrong Track

“No.” I hadn’t driven long enough to have that happen.

“Lucky,” Tobin commented, and then we pulled into the parking lot. “You’re seeing your doctor for a checkup,” he said blandly, and again I studied his face.

“Yes. I’m supposed to but I don’t actually have to.”

“Well, we’re here.” He opened the car door. “Ready?”

“No,” I said quickly. “No, I said that if you were going to come, you had to wait outside.”

“You meant literally outside? It’s twenty degrees,” he told me. “I can wait in a lobby or something, can’t I?”

I looked at the squat, ugly building. There was a lobby, the one I’d fallen asleep in and had dreamed about floating in the water, about something in the water with me. I shivered.

“See? You’re already cold. Come on, I won’t bother you,” he coaxed. “There’s probably a fish tank to look at.”

That was how Tobin ended up coming inside that building with me, and we sat next to each other in the hot waiting room until the woman behind the desk called, “Remy Smith?”

“Smith?” he murmured, but I got up as fast as I could.

“Hey, Remy,” he said when I was a few steps away. “Don’t forget to ask for a prescription for your inhaler, ok?”

“You can come back with us,” the nurse invited him. “We’re going to do a scan today and get some pictures that you might want to see.”

I wanted to cover my ears and run. “He’s not coming back there,” I said, much too loudly, and I swiveled and walked quickly before I realized that I didn’t know which room I was supposed to go into.

When these appointments had been over in the past, I’d also walked as fast as I could out of the building. But this time, I took forever to get dressed, slowly pulling on my sweatpants and stretching them over my stomach, carefully putting on my sweater and then finger-combing my hair in the mirror. I looked at my reflection and told myself to stop crying. My tears had started the moment the doctor touched me and continued throughout the appointment.

“Do you want to look?” she’d asked as she moved the wand. “That’s the baby.”

I’d kept my eyes closed and kept crying. But now I needed to calm the hell down, because I’d stupidly let Tobin come with me and he was sitting out in the waiting room. I dabbed under my eyes but my tears kept falling like I’d turned on a faucet.

They’d done that thing where I heard the heartbeat again, that fast thumping coming from inside me that wasn’t me at all. And when they were done, both the doctor and the nurse had tried to talk to me, to offer me resources, to be resources themselves and that was very generous of them. They could have pushed me right out and said, “Next,” bringing in the woman waiting her turn who would have been excited to see the pictures, to feel the movement, to hear that heartbeat. I’d choked out a thank you and they’d nodded and looked resigned.

Tobin started to stand when he saw me, and at first he smiled, but he lost that fast as he looked at my face.

“I’m good,” I told him, as the tears continued to drip. “I’m not really crying.”

“You’re not?”

“Let’s go.” We couldn’t walk as fast as I would have liked with him on the crutches, and I couldn’t sit and cry in the car as I usually did with him next to me, watching me. I drove as well as I was able to until Tobin told me to pull over.

“Turn right, in here. Turn here.” I did that and then he said to stop the car, and he reached over and turned off the ignition. “Remy, what happened? Did they give you bad news about the baby?”

“No. There’s nothing wrong.” I gripped the wheel and stared out into the parking lot. Tobin didn’t say anything either and we sat without speaking anymore.

I broke first. Silence had always scared me.

“It makes me upset—no. Those appointments make me emotional.”

He still didn’t speak, but when I snuck a quick glance his way, he didn’t seem angry, only thoughtful.

“I’m emotional. That’s all.” I tried to stop being that way.

“You haven’t ever talked to me about the baby,” he said.

“What do you want to know?”

“Is it a boy or a girl?”