Lydia
I remembered both Michelin and Danielle warning me that pregnancy wasn’t usually this warm fuzzy glow and feeling like movies and magazines promised. Michelin said she couldn’t stand the idea of her husband touching her, that she was repulsed by physical affection, Danielle told me that she got debilitating headaches that had her on bedrest for days at a time. Somehow, no matter what horror stories I was told, I still wanted that experience for myself. I wanted my own family and I wanted to be pregnant.
And now I was cursing myself for having that dream.
Every part of me ached. I wanted to be back in bed, out of these painful heels, this bra that I couldn’t find a comfortable position for, and a nice cup of hot chocolate to try and stabilize my ravenous sweet-tooth. Worst of all was the aura on the outskirts of my vision, threatening a world-class migraine. None of the clubbing I had done, my second year of college that I spent completely wasted compared to the hell my body was putting me through. But we had to find a venue, and with the date rapidly creeping up on us, we were running out of time. I had to put on my big girl pants, plaster a smile on my face and pretend that I was having a good time.
Shopping for a venue was like a constant parade of holding up a shirt or dress, turning to your friend to say “this is cute” and having them list off all the reasons it was actually hideous. Only with the added bonus of me being completely emotionally unstable. However, that wasn’t exactly a new development. The sore boobs were though, and it made this like having to do gym class during the worst period ever.
At least I could appreciate how beautiful the Terrace room at The Plaza hotel was. From the stunning wall details, to the mirrors that reflected the room in an almost dreamy way, to the picture perfect coffered ceiling with a crystal chandelier. I felt like Cinderella. And wasn’t this every New York girl’s dream? Getting married at The Plaza?
I would have picked this place in a heartbeat but if you listened to Patrick, you would think it was the trashiest place I could have brought him.
“The chandelier is the worst part,” he continued with a disgusted look. “And the colours, they don’t go with our palette, not to mention the architecture is just—”
“Patrick,” I groaned out. “Stop. I get it.” He didn’t want a church and he didn’t want a hotel; I’d heard about it all by now, I didn’t need the lecture again.
“We deserve better.”
Ugh. “You deserve to get bitch slapped,” I muttered to myself.
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
Patrick rolled his eyes and I could see the manager getting increasingly uncomfortable with our bickering. I’m sure she was probably more used to couples lovingly gazing at each other and raving about the gorgeous ball room, but I wasn’t in the mood for cutesy hand-holding and wistful looks. I wanted to get the fuck out of here and go right back to bed. Preferably alone because the idea of being touched had me seething for absolutely no reason.
Most days I wanted to be physically affectionate at every turn, but that came and went, especially when my body was devoted to making another human. It kind of sucked the desire to be touched right out of me. Probably because I felt like I was sharing enough as it was.
The guys were picking up fast on my cues; Jon had taken one look at my permanent scowl this morning and beelined for his office with a quiet snicker. Patrick was now stuck dealing with my mood and he didn’t know how to deal with it any better than I did but at least he knew not to try and be all touchy-feely. But now the two of us were both in a funk and had the poor manager trapped in this room with us. Whatever she was getting paid wasn’t enough.
“We can customize the lighting,” the woman suggested. “Some up-lighting over here would really change the look of the room…”
She trailed off when Patrick pursed his lips and shoved his hands into his pockets. We should have brought Jon. Not that he was interested, he had just told us to give him the date, what colors he should wear, but otherwise wanted no part of our circus. We could have used his supervision though.
“Thank you, Miranda,” I said apologetically. “But I think we’re going to have to talk about it some more.”
She looked like she wanted to say something but closed her mouth and nodded, leading us back to the lobby in strained silence. As we approached her desk, I could see another couple coming through the doors, no doubt to view the same ballroom. They looked cute together; another young couple that leaned into each other and seemed completely inseparable. If I didn’t visibly recoil at the thought of being touched right now, that might have been me and Pat.
I glanced at him and he smiled back. He could be such a sweetheart when he wanted to be but the rest of the time it was like wrestling a cat. Jon could be quiet and domineering but Pat was just flat out a mercurial teenager. No wonder it never really felt like he was older than me, in spirit he really wasn’t.
Pat must have seen a shift in my attention and reached for my hand, taking it in his and squeezing gently. I squeezed back but couldn’t meet his gaze. Why was planning a wedding way less fun than I ever thought it would be? I was supposed to be tasting cake and choosing the song for our first dance without it feeling like a chore, without remembering that it was a twenty-minute drive to the bakery or thinking about how many calories was in each different type of icing. This was supposed to fun. And yet all I could think about was how badly my feet were hurting and how much I wanted to go curl up in bed for a nap. I couldn’t even count how many venues we had seen, but my patience was really wearing thin at this point.
I was quiet while Patrick said goodbye to the woman and pulled me along beside him, just blindly going where he led me without question.
The street was lively; full of people, new displays, and everywhere you looked there was something about holiday sales and events. Christmas, our wedding, the baby, my book, god only knew what Jon and Pat were doing with their time… I suddenly felt hot and came to a halt on the sidewalk. Several people swerved around me and complained loudly but for me it was all just background noise.
I turned to look back up at The Plaza hotel in confusion, the hum of traffic on the street screeching in my ears and almost drowning out Pat’s voice completely.
“Dia?” he called tentatively. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”
I didn’t know and as I turned to say that, the world seemed to tilt sideways and I lost my balance as everything went black.
***
It was almost like a dream when my eyes opened back up and I wasn’t quite sure what was real and what was a figment of my imagination. The hospital room was real, the IV in my arm was real, and my raging headache was definitely real. But what had I done this morning? I groaned and rubbed my face tiredly, wishing I was back in the fog as I smeared my makeup.
I could hear the chatter of the nurse’s station from outside my cracked door and for a hot second, I was convinced that Michelin was out there arguing with the staff about my release. I sat, frozen on the bed and trying to focus on the voices as they got louder. Pat?
The door swung the rest of the way open and I pressed myself back against the headrest when Michelin gasped and ran towards me. Maybe I hadn’t been hallucinating her voice.
“Dia,” she whispered fiercely. “Are you alright, hon?”
“I’m suffocating now,” I mumbled into her shoulder. “Where’s Pat?”
“I’m right here, baby,” he said quickly.
Before I knew it I had two people fussing over me in a now extremely cramped hospital room. “Stop,” I pleaded, pushing them away. “I need space, I need air—” I broke off with a sharp cough that made my throat sting.
Patrick slid a cool paper cup into my hand, I glanced down to see the ice water and sipped it slowly. It soothed the burn and the headache all in one. I leaned back again and set the empty cup aside while Pat got up onto the bed next to me, his arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders.
Michelin patted my leg before heading back to get the nurse, leaving us there in the overly warm room.
“Are you okay?” Patrick asked quietly as he brushed my hair back. “You just fainted right there, I barely caught you before you hit the ground.”
Oh, ew. “Please tell me I didn’t touch the gross sidewalk,” I begged. I would have to cut a limb off, there was no way to come back from that, not in this city.
“You’re good, I still caught you. Next time will you warn me?”
“No promises.”
He chuckled and kissed the top of my head for which I leaned into him happily. I wouldn’t tell him that I was thankful to have gotten away from further appointments at venues, today just wasn’t a good day for me or for my little bump apparently. My hand went to my stomach instinctively as I tried to fight the growing panic. Surely if something was wrong with me or the baby they would have told me, they wouldn’t be acting this nonchalant otherwise.
I gazed around the room and curled up tight against Patrick’s side. Hospitals could be places of healing but all I could associate them with was the in-patient unit and mandatory holds. It didn’t help that Michelin was here, it actually made me feel worse to know that she was outside talking to the staff. I remained quiet, stewing in my own anxiety.
We stayed snuggled up like that, with me quietly suffering under his body heat, until Michelin came back with the nurse in tow. Nurse Hottie. Wow. He said my heart rate was registering a little high but I didn’t know if it was because I was dehydrated and over-stimulated in the hospital or if it was because having him peer down at me felt like I was letting him do something naughty. Maybe visits to the psych unit wouldn’t have been as bad if I had him looking after me.
Patrick glowered from the corner next to my foster mom and I pretended not to notice while I batted my eyes up at the nurse. Fainting was a harrowing ordeal after all, I couldn’t be blamed for wanting to do a little flirting to take my mind off of it.
“You should go home and get some rest,” he advised sagely. “You were extremely dehydrated, and your bloodwork came back with low hemoglobin.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s low iron, very common for women. Dr. Sullivan is finishing up a prescription right now for you.”
Patrick cleared his throat. “Is there anything we should be doing? Any concern about her or the baby? She just dropped out of nowhere.”
Nurse Hottie shook his head. “Fainting in the second trimester is relatively common, she just needs to drink more and be more mindful about eating habits.”
He was no longer Nurse Hottie and now he could just go fuck himself. “My eating habits?” I demanded.
“Lydia,” Michelin admonished. “Don’t be rude, he’s just trying to help.”
The man smiled appreciatively at her and turned back to me. “Try and keep some snacks on you to pick at throughout the day, it will help curb any dizziness, that’s all.”
Okay, maybe I needed to work out my knee-jerk reaction to people telling me what to do regarding food, I couldn’t exactly blame that reaction on just hormones.
“Alright, thanks,” I said sheepishly. “Is that it? Is there really nothing to worry about?”
He shook his head and gathered up the clipboard. “Just taking care of yourself. It always requires more effort once a baby is involved.”
He paused before telling us that the doctor would be back with my prescription in a few minutes and I would be free to go. I glanced at Pat’s watch as the man left and jolted in surprise, for something that hadn’t been a cause for concern, I sure had been out for long enough. Four hours in total. Was I really the only one that thought this wasn’t okay? Even the nursing staff thought this was completely normal?
Before I could work myself up further I was suddenly pulled into the tight embrace of foster mom, crushed against her chest in a fierce hug.
“You went to California and the Bahamas and Europe and you didn’t even tell me you were engaged!” she cried. “How am I supposed to be there for you if I don’t even know that you’re okay?”
She pulled back and held me by my shoulders, giving me an intense once over now that I wasn’t comatose. Her hair was still a short bob cut at the chin but now it had deliberate streaks of silver here and there that complimented her dark skin beautifully. She and Allie were the spitting image of each other, but she still felt like my mom too. More than Danielle ever had, and being her now just proved that all the more.
“Did the hospital call you?” I asked, suddenly wondering how she even knew I was here.
“No, he called,” she gestured across the room. “Patrick, right?”
He inclined his head with a soft smile. “Good to meet you, Michelin.”
Mom smirked. “He’s being coy, we met hours ago but I’m sure he doesn’t want to brag about that.”
“You gave him the third degree, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but that’s expected.” She waved it off. “I also invited you two for dinner but he had a better idea.”
“Oh?” I glanced to him, heart pounding.
“Dinner at his apartment with Allison, her girlfriend, Lewis, and I think his name was Jon?”
Ohmigod. My mouth fell open as I stared at Pat, still processing Michelin’s words. He wanted the entirety of Montgomery house to have dinner with not just us but also Jon and Maritza. In what world had this been a good idea? Why the hell would he think this was the right thing to do? Right after I almost met the sidewalk face first!
Patrick stared back at me impassively looking pleased with himself and not at all worried for what this all meant. I hoped Allie didn’t get mad about this, and I prayed that Jon and Maritza wouldn’t be nearly as freaked out as I was by this whole idea. Hopefully I would just faint again.