I’m in the hotel, waiting for the time to head over to the arena, when my phone vibrates. It’s not a number I recognize, but I answer anyway.
“Hello?”
“Is this Mr. Scott Boyd?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, this is Ellen. I’m a nurse at the doctor’s office your wife came to today.” Fuck. Something has to be wrong. Why else are they calling me? Sylvia’s doctors never call me after a visit. I check my watch. Fuck, she might still be there. “She, um, learned of some news and is a bit hysterical. She demanded we get you here before she fainted.”
“She what? What the hell happened?”
“Can you please get down here as soon as possible? Since she became conscious, she’s not acknowledging anyone and it doesn’t appear as if she’s going to leave her room.”
Fuck. I gulp. “I’m not in town right now. Can you tell me what’s wrong? Or let me talk to her?”
“Dr. Floyd would like to deliver that news to you in person.”
I hang up on her and call Sylvia’s cell. Damn it. Why did I let them schedule this appointment when I would be out of town? She doesn’t answer, but I keep calling. On the fourth try, I hear a tiny voice answer, “Scott?”
“Sylvie, what the hell? What’s going on?”
“I need you.”
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
My blood runs cold. “Okay. Let me see what I can do, all right? I’m going to get someone to pick you up and take you home until I can get there. Who do you want? Lizzy?”
Sylvia chokes on a sob. “No, please, no.”
“Meredith? Theresa? Sydney? Who, Sylvie? Your mom?”
“Meredith, maybe?”
“Okay. You sit right there. Meredith will come get you and I’ll be home as soon as possible. Is your doctor with you?”
“No.” She’s still crying, and it’s killing me, not knowing what the fuck is going on with her.
“Okay. Everything will be fine. I’ll be home soon. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
As soon as I hang up, I rush to find the people I need to talk to. I need to go home. This is an emergency. I run into Noah and Marc first.
“Woah, Scotty. What’s wrong?” Marc asks, but I ignore him and focus on Noah.
“I need you to call Meredith and tell her to pick Sylvia up from the doctor’s office. I can text you the address, so you can forward it to her. Something’s happened, no one will tell me what the fuck is wrong, and she’s freaking out. She doesn’t want Lizzy. Will Meredith do it?”
“Yeah. I’ll call her now.”
Next, I get the all-clear to leave. We’re only a little over four hours away from home and I can drive there faster than I’ll be able to catch a flight home, so I rent a car and start driving. All the worst possible scenarios race through my mind as I put all the focus necessary into driving. What could they have found so quickly? Maybe her throwing up and the mood changes are part of a more serious condition. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know and I don’t like it.
Please let her be okay.
I also call my parents and ask them to pick up the girls from school and take them back to their house until I can assure that everything is okay at home. I need to make sure Sylvia is fine. My parents can take care of the girls while I do that.
Four hours have never passed so slowly with a seemingly ridiculous amount of traffic and road work. My first stop isn’t my house where my wife is waiting. It’s the doctor’s office. It’s twenty minutes until they close, but that damn doctor will talk to me. I need to know what is going on before I go home.
My concern rises when they immediately usher me into the back to a small office. Dr. Floyd stands and shakes my hand.
“What the fuck happened? What’s wrong with her?”
“Calm down, please, Mr. Boyd. I assure you she is fine.”
“Apparently not,” I interrupt. “I just left my job and drove over four hours because she had a meltdown over something you told her was wrong with her. I need to know before I go home and see her.”
The good doctor isn’t ruffled at all by my outburst. She takes a breath and calmly replies, “She’s pregnant.”
“What?” I stare at her with confusion. That doesn’t make any sense at all. “Are you sure? She’s...we were told it was impossible. We’ve been having unprotected sex for ten years. And you’re saying I’ve somehow knocked her up when she’s supposed to be basically infertile?”
She nods. “I know her history, and honestly, I’m as surprised as you are, but I ran the test more than once. Your wife is pregnant. She’s freaking out, and not in a good way. I was able to get her in with her OB/GYN today, so the woman who came to pick her up drove her over there to get fully checked out by her. Sylvia needs you to ground her. This is going to be a high-risk pregnancy, but she’s already eleven weeks along.”
“Eleven weeks?” She’s been pregnant for eleven weeks? I can’t seem to get past the fact that she’s pregnant, but wow. This is great news...until I realize that Sylvia is freaked the fuck out and there’s no guarantee we’ll end up with a living, breathing baby. She wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant; what if she can’t carry to term? What if the baby ends up being stillborn? This is uncharted territory for us.
“Take a deep breath, be cautiously optimistic, and go calm her down. Everything looks very good right now, Mr. Boyd.”
Right now. Are those the key words I should be clinging to because they can change at any moment? No wonder Sylvia is a mess. I thank her and quickly leave to rush home. I’m almost dreading it. I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know what kind of shape she’ll be in other than bad. My own stomach is churning with worry, my own heart is beating out of control. Sylvie has always felt more when it comes to kids. It’s a simple fact. She’s probably throwing up and having a panic attack.
Once home, with way more strength than I’m feeling right now, I push open the door and step inside. Sylvia and Meredith glance up at me from the couch. My eyes only care for Sylvia; she’s pale and her eyes are wide with fear.
“Thanks for helping me out, Meredith,” I force myself to say.
“No problem.” She hugs Sylvia. “It’ll be okay,” I hear her whisper.
I wish she didn’t know yet, only because Sylvia and I haven’t talked about it. But I am glad that she was here for us both today. I walk Meredith to the door, thanking her again, and then a few seconds later, I take a seat next to my wife.
“I stopped by the doctor’s office—”
“Did they tell you? Did they tell you that they think I’m pregnant?” I nod. “You told them, right? You told them that they’re crazy? I mean, something must be wrong with them because it’s not possible, Scott.” I take her cold, trembling hands in my own, grasping them tightly as her voice grows with hysteria.
“Something else is wrong with me. That can’t be it. They told us it was impossible. That means it would never happen. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t be. No. We accepted that. They can’t change it on us now. I can’t lose a baby, Scott.” Her eyes well with tears that are so fat and full, they spill over immediately. “I can’t do it. Not after so many failed attempts already. Tell them they’re wrong. Tell them to find some other explanation. Something’s wrong with that machine too. There can’t be a baby in here.”
“Sylvie,” I begin softly, but she starts shaking her head.
“You can’t believe them, Scott. Oh, god. I heard the heartbeat.” Her breathing picks up and I know I’m losing her to the panic. “How is that even possible? It can’t be. It just can’t be.”
I pull her into my arms and run my hands up and down her back. “It’s going to be fine. Deep breaths. Long, deep breaths. You’re probably freaking the kid out.”
“It’s not funny!”
I cup her face. “No, it’s not. It’s scary as fuck, but we’re not runners, Sylvia. We take the challenge. You’re pregnant. By some miracle or whatever the hell you want to call it, you’re pregnant. If that fear wasn’t overwhelming you, you’d be able to feel how elated you are. Let’s take it day by day, okay? We’re going to be cautiously optimistic and we’re going to allow ourselves to be happy, because I’ll be damned if you’re going to let this fear ruin the one thing you’ve always wanted to experience. You hear me?”
“What if—”
“No,” I interrupt. “I know exactly what those what ifs are and fucking no, Sylvia. Day by day and being happy means no what ifs. Get rid of those right fucking now. I mean it. If something happens, we’ll adjust and deal with it like we always do, but we’re not going to think about it beforehand. We’re going to be in Happyville, not Worrytown.”
That finally gets me half of a smile, but only for half of a second. “Tell me it’s going to be okay.”
“I promise you, we’ll be okay.”
Her arms sling around my waist and I wrap mine around her shoulders, holding her tight, letting her draw on my sudden strength.
I hope our baby survives this.
“So, if all goes well, you and Lizzy will be giving birth within a few weeks of each other, right?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbles into my neck. “All I heard was that I’m pregnant and then a heartbeat. I couldn’t process anything else.”
“You’re eleven weeks along. She said everything looked good so far.”
“Lizzy is twelve weeks,” is all she says. She puts a hand on my chest and uses it to push herself up a little. “Do you feel like an absolute idiot for not seeing the signs? I mean, the weight gain, my boobs have been a bit tender, the vomiting, the fatigue. Shouldn’t we have wondered that what if?”
“After ten years of fucking and you not getting pregnant? No, I don’t feel like an idiot for not seeing the signs. Maybe I should, but I don’t. I was stunned when the doctor told me and didn’t believe her at first.”
Sylvia glances down at her stomach. She hesitates before placing a hand over her belly. “I’m terrified, Scott. I’m scared to be happy. To start loving this baby. To believe that this is even real. I mean, I’ve wanted another child, but I’ve been too scared to change things. And now, I’m pregnant? It’s just...”
“Let’s not worry until we have to, Sylvie.” I pull her back against me. “We’ll be okay.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that the baby will be okay, but I’ve never made a promise that I wasn’t sure if I would be able to keep. I don’t want to say those words and then something happen. But I can promise her that we will be okay. One way or another, we’ll make it through whatever happens. “I love you.”
“I love you. I’m sorry about the divorce threats earlier this week.”
I laugh. “It’s okay.”
“I’m glad you’re going to be here for a few days. I need to recover.”
“Do you want the girls to stay with my parents tonight?”
“No. They probably know something is up, and I don’t want to worry them. Can we not tell anyone yet? Maybe wait a little bit longer and go to a few more appointments? Just in case?”
“Whatever you want.” I don’t mind that plan, actually. Cautiously optimistic doesn’t necessarily mean blasting to everyone we know that the impossible has happened.
“We should go get the girls.”
“Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll go get them? It’s been a long day. You rest.”
She nods, so I kiss her forehead and then leave. Now, I have to evade questions of “What’s wrong with Sylvia?” from my parents and “Why are you home?” from the girls. Well, I’ll need to come up with an answer for the girls. The ride isn’t terribly long. Sure enough, my mom answers the door and the first thing she says is, “Is everything okay with Sylvia?”
“She’s fine, Mom,” I answer as I step into the house.
“Well, what happened?”
“Nothing.”
She raises one brow at me. “Nothing? You left a game for nothing?”
“Leave it alone. Now is not the time to discuss it.”
She nods. “Stella! Stephanie! Your father is here!”
A heartbeat later, the girls come running toward the door with their things. “Daddy! What are you doing here?” Stella asks.
“Don’t you have an away game?” Stephanie adds.
“Your mom got sick, so I had to come home. Do you have everything?” They nod. “Let’s go then. Thanks, Mom.”
Once we’re in the car, Stella asks, “Is Momma okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine now. Let’s be on our best behavior tonight, okay? No fighting, no being loud, no annoying each other. Think you can do that for your momma?”
“Yes,” they say simultaneously.
“Good. We’ll bake cookies tomorrow then.”
The rest of the ride is unusually quiet. When we get home, the girls rush to where Sylvia is still sitting on the couch and give her a hug. That causes her to burst into tears as they curl into her sides, asking if she’s feeling any better. I leave them alone to start on dinner.
I’m about halfway done when my phone vibrates with a call from Lizzy.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Is everything okay? I heard you weren’t with the team due to a family emergency. What happened?”
“We’re all good here, Lizzy.”
“But—”
“Do you trust me?” I interrupt.
“Well, yeah,” she replies with a silent obviously.
“Then, trust me when I say we’re fine.”
She’s quiet for about a minute, no doubt debating whether or not she wants to argue with me while remembering how many times I didn’t push her. She’s probably remembering when I did push her too. “Okay,” she finally says. “But y’all know I’m here for you, right? I mean, you two have done so much for me over the years and I’m always ready to return to favor. I’d do anything for y’all. Just say the word.”
“Thanks, Lizzy. You’ll hear from Sylvia at some point.”
Now, see, if the situation was reversed, Sylvia would ask, “So something did happen?” But all Lizzy says is, “Okay. I’ll be ready.”
“You doing okay?” I’m tempted to ask her over for dinner, but Sylvia didn’t want Lizzy to pick her up from the doctor’s office and she’s still emotional, so I don’t think it’d be a good idea.
“Yeah, just taking a break from working on a cake. It’s SpongeBob-themed and I’m attempting to make a cake in the shape of a pineapple as well as a medium-size SpongeBob and Patrick. I also tested a new batter mixture and it’s ridiculously good. This is only one order. I still have two to do tomorrow.”
“Are you going to quit the bank?”
“Have you been talking to Marc?” she accuses, almost snapping at me. “I mean, if you two are finally fully getting along, then great, but what the hell? It’s a little creepy, Scott.”
I laugh. “I’m just wondering. I don’t want you overworking yourself.”
“I’m still figuring things out right now, so I don’t know what I’m doing yet. Until I know, I’ll going to do both.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon. I’ll let you go, so you can get back to work. If you need anything, you know we’re only a phone call away, too.”
“I know. Thanks, Scott.”
After saying our goodbyes, we hang up. She’s right that Marc and I finally get along. Well, better than we did when it comes to her. After my brother died, I had to look after her. She was pregnant and wasn’t exactly doing it herself. I’ve spent so many years looking after her, taking care of her when she needed me to, that it’s almost as second nature as taking care of Sylvia and my girls. Then Marc came along and got pissed as hell when I’d try to do just that. It’s been an adjustment to force myself to stop and let Marc do it instead. There’s been fewer and fewer instances where I feel the need to step in, though. That’s just a testament to how well Lizzy’s been doing.
“Have you been talking to yourself?” Sylvia asks as she comes into the kitchen.
“Mighta been.”
She smiles. “Almost ready?”
“Not almost; it is.” She starts grabbing plates to fill with food. “I was talking to Lizzy,” I add.
“Oh. What’d you tell her?”
“That everything was fine and you’d call her at some point. How’re you holding up?”
The smile she gives me nearly stops my heart. “Good. Stephanie and Stella were just who I needed.”
I fake a frown. “What about me?”
She laughs. That in combination with her smile tells me we’re going to be okay. She’s over the shock. She has a handle on the fear for now and we’re good. “I meant in addition to you. I always need you.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” I give her a soft kiss and then we’re back to focusing on getting the table set for dinner.