Nicola
I steady myself, throw my shoulders back and hold my head up just like I used to do in high school when I was the new girl in the halls and not accepted yet into the throngs of mean girls with inflated self-entitlement. I flash Bram a confident, albeit hella fake, smile and walk over to his car, all prepared to handle the situation with ease.
But he’s fast and he comes around the hood and right up to me, quickly taking the booster seat out of my hands. I’m prepared for him to smell like cigars and mint again, but this time it’s just something fresh and earthy like the woods after it rains.
“I can handle it,” I tell him. I can’t help but snipe at him, aware that I’m being a bit of a bitch.
He doesn’t seem to notice and before I can ask him if he knows what he’s doing, he’s opening the back door to the vehicle and strapping the seat in like a pro.
I’m almost impressed. “You always give rides to moms?”
He raises his brow. “None as beautiful as you.” He looks at Ava and crouches down to her level. “What’s your name, little one?”
“I’m not, little one,” she says, frowning. “I’m Ava. And I’m a big girl.”
He nods, his face sincere. Now looking at him in the waning daylight, he looks different than I remember six months ago. Older, I guess, though I know he has to be around thirty-five. Maybe the suit and the way it cuts to his body perfectly is making him look more mature. Maybe it’s the car. Maybe it’s the few strands of grey I can see at the temple of his thick head of dark hair. Maybe it’s because I’m sober and so is he. At least, I hope so.
“So, are you the designated driver for the night?” I ask him, picking up Ava and placing her in the booster seat. “Or did you lose a bet?”
“I never lose bets,” he says smoothly as he stands behind me. I quickly look over my shoulder and catch him checking out my ass.
“Get a good look?” I straighten up and turn around.
“Of your arse?” he asks, sticking his hands into his pockets in a boyish gesture. “Yes. But only because I know it bugs you so much. You know, anything that’s remotely sexual.”
My eyes widen and I look down at Ava. She’s completely oblivious and I carefully shut the door. “Look,” I quickly say, pointing at him. “You may think you know me from our little…meeting, but you don’t.”
He reaches out and grasps my finger in his hand. His skin is warm and surprisingly soft, but then again, even though he may have the body for it, I’m sure Bram didn’t get his money from chopping trees all day or doing hard labor.
“Hey,” he says, voice gruff, still holding onto my finger. “I know we don’t really know each other and when we last, erm, talked, well, I may have been a few sheets to the wind. But how about we start again? I’m Bram McGregor.”
He turns my hand over so that he’s now holding it in a handshake. I’m not sure I can do this as easily as he can, but I find myself saying, “Okay. I’m Nicola. Price.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Nicola Price. Can I give you a ride?”
I nod. “That would be nice.” I know my voice sounds stiff, but I guess it’s a start. The problem with my pride, though, is that it rarely lets me forget when it’s been burned.
Luckily Bram is completely genial during the drive to Linden’s apartment in Nob Hill. He spends most of it talking to Ava in the rear-view mirror, asking her questions and treating her like she’s an adult. I can tell Ava adores it and by the time we’re close to Steph and Linden’s, she’s all googly-eyed over him. This is not good. Can’t she be like her mom and be suspicious of the men who smile too brightly and say all the right things?
Though I guess with Bram, he has a habit of saying all the wrong things.
“So, Nicola,” he says slowly as we wind through traffic. “You know, I don’t know much about you. Linden says you work in fashion like Stephanie.”
I did, I think bitterly but I manage to say, “Uh-huh.”
“So what’s your job?”
“What’s your job?” I ask, deflecting it back to him. Besides, I’m curious. In the past, Linden only described Bram as a playboy (or “bloody manwhore” I believe were his exact words) who didn’t do much but party it up in New York City. He moved to San Francisco a year ago, I guess to be close to Linden who had a frightful helicopter crash at the time, but I don’t know what he really does except flash those perfect teeth at people.
“I’m an apartment manager,” he says and when he sees the disbelieving look in my eyes, he goes on. “I’m serious. Well, to be more correct, I own an apartment complex in SOMA. Folsom and twelfth beside a Thai restaurant.”
He’s looking at me like I’ll know, like most newbies to the Bay Area do, like we know every Thai restaurant in town and every person called Dan.
“That couldn’t be cheap,” I say, looking back out the window as we crawl past the cars. There are so many gorgeous buildings in this city, places to die for, and over and over again I can’t help but wonder who can afford to live here. I once met an Uber driver who used to drive trucks across the country, who grew up in the city. He said back then, San Francisco was full of children. Now, you rarely see them. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better for Ava, and for me, to just move to a small town where she can have a different kind of life. Then I think about my dreams for my future, my career, and wonder if it’s okay for me to give up on them. I know it’s selfish of me not to, but I still can’t quite let go.
“Nothing in life is cheap,” Bram says but I barely hear him. I have to bring myself back into the moment and stop my head and my worries from running away on me. I came out tonight to put those on the backburner. God knows I’ll have more than enough time to worry after this.
“Am I boring you?” he asks and I turn my head to look at him.
“No. Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
My brows lift up. “I don’t think we’re at that ‘let’s tell each other what we’re thinking’ stage.”
“Not yet.”
Not ever, I think. But I don’t want to answer any more questions about myself, so I ask him to tell me more about the apartment and I force myself to listen. The more he talks about it, though, the more I see this is something he’s actually stressing a bit over. I mean, it’s hard to tell if Bram is stressed or not because he always has that charmer expression on his face like he’s always trying to get in someone’s pants, male or female. But there’s a harder glint to his eyes when he talks about the rent of the building and how much he has to charge in order to make his mortgage.
“So why did you buy it?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I needed to do something.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it,” I tell him. “Rent is phenomenal in the city even in SOMA. Everyone predicted it would be the next place to become the it place. Hell, I bet the Tenderloin will turn that way soon too. Hanging with crack addicts will become the cool thing to do and hipsters will take over the street corners. And my rent will go up once again.” He shoots me a quick glance at the hardness that crept up in my voice. I try to sound breezier. “Anyway, I’m sure you bought at the right time.”
“Maybe,” he says, running his long fingers over his dark stubble. He’s got a very manly-looking chin, but I quickly chide myself for noticing. “But when I bought the place, I was hoping to…well, doesn’t matter does it? What’s done is done.”
And luckily before he has any chance to ask me about my non-existent job, we pull up in front of Steph and Linden’s building. Just as I’m lifting Ava out of the car, the doors open and Steph comes out, wobbling a bit in her strappy heels and carrying two glasses of wine.
Married life looks good on her. She’s gained some weight, but it’s all gone to her boobs, so that’s not really fair. Her hair is dyed mermaid blue (or baby blue, to be more specific) and she always looks happy and flushed like she’s just had some good sex. It’s a wonder I don’t hate her.
“Nic!” she yelps and comes speed-walking over as fast as she can without spilling the wine. She hands me a glass of red and says, “Here, drink this. We’ve got you.” She looks me deep in the eyes and I feel momentarily calmed.
And that’s why I could never hate her. She’s pretty much the best friend a girl could have.
She glances over at Bram and gives him a quick smile before beaming down at Ava.
“Ava, you look like a princess!”
“I am a princess,” she says. “You’re just a mermaid.”
Steph lifts her head in mock supremacy. “No one is just a mermaid.”
Ava seems to consider that for a moment then eyes the glass of wine in my hand. “Can I have some? I’m thirsty.”
“You’re always thirsty,” I tell her. “This is mommy’s adult drink. I’ll get you some juice when we’re inside, okay?”
She nods and licks her lips. She’s always been a thirsty child, but seems so even more lately. That and she gets just about as hungry as I do when I haven’t eaten. I don’t know where she puts all the food either. She definitely didn’t inherit her mom’s curvy calves and thighs. She’s all chicken legs and twig arms, something my doctor said is totally normal for a girl her age.
I turn, about to thank Bram for the ride. After all, he didn’t have to come get me, but he’s back in his car and driving away, the sleek façade of the Mercedes disappearing down the hill.
“Where’s he going?” I ask Steph. “My booster seat is still in the back.”
She takes a lengthy sip of wine. “To pick up his girlfriend of the week from her job. He’ll be back.”
“Right,” I say slowly. “Let me guess, supermodel?”
She shrugs. “Dunno. Probably. Haven’t met her yet. What’s the point when they never last very long?”
“I thought you were sending me an Uber.”
“He volunteered, actually,” she says, turning back toward the building. “He’s tonight’s designated driver.”
I can’t help but snort. “Why would he do that?”
“He’s changed a lot since he’s moved here. He’s a lot closer with Linden and since it’s his birthday, I guess he’s just trying to be a good brother and make up for lost time.” She shoots me a wry look over her shoulder. “Why all the questions?”
Was I asking questions? “No reason.”
“You don’t like Bram much, do you?” she notes as she swipes her key card and the door buzzes open.
“I like Bam,” Ava says, mispronouncing his name. I don’t bother to correct her.
“No you don’t,” I say. “You just like shiny things, like his car.”
“I like Bam,” she says again, this time more forceful.
I look at Steph who is watching me with interest. “What?”
“I don’t know. It’s just after the wedding, every time his name comes up, I can literally see you shudder. Did something happen?”
I shake my head, trying to keep a straight face.
“Because,” she goes on in a conspirator tone and peers at me closer, “Kayla says she saw you and Bram come out from behind the bushes. You were holding onto his arm.”
“Is Kayla here?” Because I’m going to kill her.
“She’ll be at the bar later,” she says. “So, was that true?”
“That was like, six months ago. I don’t remember. We may have talked but that’s it, I swear.” And way to wait that long to bring it up with me, Steph, I add in my head.
She raises her eyebrows. Most people aren’t usually very good at reading me. I guess I don’t give them enough to go on. But Steph has always been succinct at getting through my layers and it takes a lot not to look away.
“Just talked,” she muses and jabs the button for the elevator. “All right then. Well, I’m glad you just talked because you know he’s bad news.”
“You were just going on about how much he’s changed!”
“Yeah, and he has. But I still wouldn’t let any of my friends date him. Well, Kayla maybe, but not you.”
“Well you don’t have to worry about that. He’s definitely not my favorite person. And you know how I feel about guys like him.”
“I do know,” she says. “But I have to watch out for you, that’s all. Remember when you had a crush on your gynecologist? You would have said something to him if I hadn’t made you promise.”
My cheeks grow warm at the memory. “He was such a nice guy. And so mature.”
“He was mature about your vagina and that’s because he had to be.”
Moments later, we step into her apartment and I’m glad for the change of subject. Music thumps from the speakers and we find Linden, his best friend James and his girlfriend Penny in the kitchen drinking beer and laughing.
“God, it’s loud!” Steph screeches and runs over to the stereo to turn it down. She shoots me an apologetic look and the rest of them a scathing one. It tickles me to see how overprotective of Ava she can be sometimes.
“Sorry!” Linden yells and then when he sees me, gives me a wolf whistle, looking me up and down. For a second there I think he’s a lot like his brother – the same cheeky smile with dimples, the same dark brows, thick hair and masculine jawline. But when he comes over and pulls me into a hug, I feel no judgement or ulterior motives. So, no, nothing like Bram at all.
He pulls away and holds me at arm’s length. “You’re looking pretty spiffy, lady.”
“Spiffy?” I repeat. “Never heard that one before.”
“I’ve always been original,” he says with a wink.
He then says hi to Ava who smiles at him shyly like she always does. Ever since she learned he can fly in the sky, albeit in a helicopter, she’s been bashful around him like he’s some kind of superhero.
I say hi James and Penny, complimenting Penny on her new cherry red and rhinestone glasses. The two have always been a bit more alternative than I’m used to and I always feel a bit uncool around them with their tattoos, piercings and fun lives. James runs our “local” bar, The Burgundy Lion, and Penny apparently now works in web design for porn sites. Luckily, they’re hella nice.
I quickly get Ava a cup of orange juice cut with water (I don’t like her to have much sugar) and spend the next half hour sipping my wine slowly and listening to people’s conversations. When someone starts talking about work, Steph deftly switches the subject, knowing I’m not ready to talk about what happened.
While Linden makes my hungry monkey pasta with cheese and I scarf down the sliders and prawn rolls he prepared for the rest of us, my mind keeps wondering when Bram is coming back. It’s just that I want to know that I’ll get my booster seat at the end of the night (those things ain’t cheap), unless he’s also volunteered to drive me home. I’m not sure how his new girlfriend, or whoever she is, will feel about that but I guess it’s sort of a given when you’re dealing with someone like him.
As if he’s heard my thoughts, suddenly the front door opens and in parades Bram, all smiles, with a lean chick dressed in a silver sequined dress, giant silver hoops in her ears and her blonde hair piled high above her head, fastened with silver clips. If she walks under the lights in the middle of the room, she’ll go off like a damn disco ball.
I make my usual snap judgement in two seconds. Her boobs are fake. Her lips are fake and her teeth are fake. She’s fake, period, I think, then I wonder when I became so bitter.
I roll my shoulders as if to physically shed the unwanted feelings from me, and attempt to play nice as Bram introduces her to the room as Astrid. Astrid says hi, we say hi, and then the two of them disappear into the kitchen.
So, as it is, I’m the only single person here. I can’t even bug Ava because she’s scarfing down more food that Linden prepared. Steph makes sure to occupy most of my time, though, chatting about purses and shoes even though I know she’s secretly dying to talk about the real issues in my life. Still, she stays true to her word and doesn’t bring it up.
Eventually it starts getting late. Ava sort of stumbles toward me in an apparent food coma and tugs on my jeans.
“Mommy, I can’t find my bed,” she says.
“That’s because you’re not at home,” I tell her. Just then Steph announces to everyone that they’re moving the party to a bar in the lower Haight. Perfect timing.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Bram says, seeming to appear from out of nowhere. He looks at Steph. “It’s on the way. I’ll take whoever.”
I can’t help but glance at Astrid to see what she thinks of this but she’s still smiling. For a moment I’m envious. Not of her toned body and glossy limbs, but because she doesn’t seem like the jealous type and Lord knows I am.
“Mommy, who are these people?” Ava asks. My heart skips for a minute, then I remember how confusing these kind of gatherings must be for a child.
“Mommy’s friends,” I explain. “We’re going home now, okay? Bram is going to drive us home in his shiny car, remember? Bam?”
She doesn’t nod, just stares at me with a dull expression. Poor kiddo must be so tuckered out. So am I. When a party is over, there is nothing you want more than your bed, making the time between getting from where you are to getting under your covers seem to stretch for eternity. It’s a physical ache.
Thankfully it’s not long before we’re in Bram’s car. Astrid is in the passenger seat and Ava, me and Steph are squished in the back. It’s not exactly meant for three people back there, let alone a booster seat, so Steph is half-sitting on me and giggling.
It’s been about five minutes into our drive as Bram takes the sports car up and down the hills when Ava makes a gagging sound. The distinctive smell of fruit fills the air and I look over to see Ava has thrown up on herself.
“Jesus,” I say, “Ava, are you okay?”
I try to turn in my seat and put my hand on her forehead. It feels hot and clammy at the same time and her eyes are wild as she takes in short, sharp breaths.
Everything inside me freezes, wanting to take me hostage in a panic-induced horror, but it doesn’t last. I push it aside. I function.
“What is it?” Steph yells in my ear and Bram immediately turns off the radio and starts pulling over to the side of the road.
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice trembling. I keep brushing Ava’s hair back from her face and once we’re parked, Bram flips the light on in the car.
Now I can see better and I’m absolutely horrified. Vomit covers the front of her dress and she’s pale as anything. Her chin keeps dipping down and when she looks up, she’s looking at me like she doesn’t know who I am.
I don’t think I have ever been so scared.
“Mommy?” she finally asks, sounding breathless.
I grab her hand and squeeze it. “It’s okay, angel, mommy’s here.”
“Do you have a doctor?” Bram asks. “Or should we go to the hospital?”
I don’t want to admit right now that I don’t have insurance. “Let me try my doctor,” I say, trying to fish my phone out of my bag but I drop it, my hands are shaking so much.
Steph picks it up and says, “Let’s take her to the emergency room.”
I shake my head. “No. Just…”
But I know if I try my doctor, he won’t answer. I don’t have his home line and the clinic is closed.
“Nicola, it’s okay,” Steph says, squeezing my leg. “Let’s take her to the hospital. Just in case. This could be an allergy.”
“She’s not allergic to anything.”
“But they pop up all the time when you’re a kid, right?”
“That’s right,” Bram says and I finally look over at him. He’s trying to be casual but I can see the concern threaded through his brow. “When I was a wee one, I suddenly developed an allergy to strawberries. I threw up in class in front of everyone including Mrs. Haversham, whom I had a mad crush on.”
I can’t even smile at that admission. I just nod, knowing I have to do what’s best for Ava, even if it’s going to cost me an arm and a leg.
“Let’s go,” I tell him. “Any hospital, it doesn’t matter. Whatever is closest.”
He nods and we speed off down the street. Bram is driving like an absolute maniac, or like he’s trying to recreate scenes from “Bullet.” I’m not paying much attention, though. I’m listening to Ava breathe, trying to keep her focused and calm even though I’m not.
Soon, we’re zooming up to the ER and I’m flying out of the car trying to get Ava out of her seat. I lift her into my arms and run inside to the hospital. The smells of rubbing alcohol and plastic and blood fill my nostrils. Suddenly the cost is the last thing on my mind. All I want is to see a doctor and to see one fast. My mind spins a million different ways and all of them are bad.
What’s wrong with her? Did I do something wrong? Is she going to die? Is she going to be okay? What could I have done differently?
I wish Phil was here.
I don’t often think that. But he was there for the first year of her life and it’s hard to forget that I used to have someone who cared just as much about Ava as I did. Then again, if he cared, he never would have left. Sometimes I think it would have been better if he had just skipped town when he first found out I was pregnant, instead of being there for that first year. He had a chance to know her – how come he didn’t love her the way I did? I understand why he left me. I neglected him, I became that doting, obsessed mother I swore I would never become. But how the hell could he leave her?
I swallow down the hard lump in my throat as razor-sharp memories threaten to undo me. I have to be strong. Always so damn strong.
Because the ER is packed, it takes what seems like forever to get the doctor to see us. Steph yells at the receptionist a bunch of times and I think Bram and Astrid are still milling around, even though I’m not really aware of anything except my daughter in my arms. Ava is still having trouble breathing and it’s only when she vomits again that a nurse takes pity on us and leads us away from the moaning, bandaged, sick people in the waiting room.
It’s all going by in a blur. The doctor comes in, but all I can hear is my own heartbeat, not his name. His face is a blank smudge. Steph holds my arm but all I feel is Ava.
He gets Ava on the bed and examines her. Takes blood. Asks me questions.
“What did she eat?”
Steph tells him pasta and cheese, I fill in that she normally has that and has never had a reaction.
“What did she drink?”
I tell him I gave her orange juice with water.
Then Steph tells him Linden gave her some caffeine-free Coke.
This was news to me and now Steph is looking sheepish. I try my hardest to have Ava eating as healthy as possible. Coke is the enemy, as is any soft drink, diet or not. But I also can’t see how Coke could have caused this. It’s not like she’s never had any in her whole life.
The doctor nods at that and then quizzes me more about her dietary habits and other issues.
“She’s totally healthy,” I tell him defensively. Then I remember the last few trips to the doctor. “She’s been really lethargic lately. Tired. Irritable.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“A few months. But the doctor, her doctor, said she’s fine.”
“Has she always been this thin?”
“She’s got more gangly since January,” I explain. “I brought it up with the doctor and he said it was normal.”
“It can be,” the doctor says. “But I think this is something else. Has your daughter been excessively thirsty?”
That question hits me hard. I remember being a thirsty child growing up, always opting to drink something rather than eat, so it never struck me as unusual that Ava is the same.
“Yes,” I say carefully, looking over at Steph. She nods.
“Mrs—“
“Miss,” I quickly inform him. “There is no Mr. in the picture.”
His stoney blank face attempts a look of sympathy. “Okay, Ms. Price. We’ll have to see what the tests say, but it looks like your daughter might have Type 1 diabetes.”
I gasp. I can’t help it. Steph holds my hand tight, but I’m already going numb.
He goes on, “And what she’s going through right now could be diabetic ketoacidosis. Do you know what ketones are, Ms. Price?”
“The stuff your body produces too much of when you’re on the Atkins Diet,” Steph fills in.
He raises a brow. “Yes. We’re going to have to take a urine test to look at her levels and for now we’ve got the IV full of electrolytes to rehydrate and stabilize her. But we may need to give her an insulin injection. And if we do, you’re going to have to give her injections every day for the rest of her life.”
I can’t breathe. Diabetes? “But no one in my family has it,” I blurt out. “She’s always eaten so well. There must be some mistake.”
“We’ll know for sure soon,” he says. “But type 1 has nothing to do with diet or history, not always. Her pancreas just doesn’t produce enough insulin. Just sit tight and I’ll be back.”
I don’t know how long he’s gone for. Ava is still breathing hard, though her eyes are closed. I keep talking to her to make sure she’s awake but she’s just too tired. The nurse assures me that her vitals are doing a bit better and she’s not in danger anymore, that we brought her in right on time. But still, panic and guilt weighs down on me like a damp, dark cloud.
Somewhere in the back of my head, I’m aware that Steph is here with me, dolled up to the nines and she’s missing her husband’s birthday party. But I’m also afraid to tell her she should go, afraid that she will, that I’ll be alone.
So I don’t say anything and she stays right by my side.
The night stretches on and on. The doctor comes back.
It’s bad news.