Perfectly Unpredictable (5 page)

Kalia sat at her computer sipping her first
and only coffee of the day. She adjusted her position as the baby kicked and
moved inside her. He seemed to wake up with the morning coffee, too. She rubbed
her belly and laughed. He was keeping her awake through the night but had the
nerve to complain when she finally got up and started her day.

She had struggled with the decision about
her pregnancy. Had pretty much decided to have an abortion. Even had the
appointment, talked to them, and learned more about it. But in the end, she couldn’t
do it.

She wanted the baby. She loved Alexandre
and already loved the baby. She wanted to be a good parent and would do
whatever it took to make that happen.

She had told her parents, her brother, and Krista,
and they were wonderfully excited and supportive. They’d asked who the father
was, but she hadn’t said, and they hadn’t pressed. That was it. It was so easy.

She was due any day now. Time had gone by
fast. She was down to weekly visits with Dr. Mikaela Finn, her obstetrician at
St. Peter’s Hospital, and so far everything had been on track. She felt
enormous, but Dr. Finn had reassured her that her weight was perfect. She had
only one in there. There had been a bit of panic, on her part anyway, when the
nurse had thought she’d heard two heartbeats at one of the visits early on. But
an ultrasound confirmed there was only one baby. Thankfully.

She still wasn’t one hundred percent
confident about her decision to pick parenting over adoption or abortion, but
she was happy. It felt right.

She had moved into a quaint two-bedroom
house on a quiet street in a lovely neighborhood. Much as she’d loved her
condominium, she didn’t want to worry about disturbing the neighbors with a
crying baby. Not that her baby would be crying much. But still.

It had taken a lot of house hunting to find
the perfect home, complicated by some serious nesting and her need to find the
ideal neighborhood and the safest, best-designed house for her and a baby.

She had moved out of the downtown core and
into the Rivermede suburbs. The house was in a relatively new Bennett
development (a quality home, of course). A paved walking path (great for a
stroller) linked to a nearby park (green space – always good –
and a safe place to meet the neighbors).

She’d met the neighbors on the right. The
young family with two children had brought over a plate of muffins to introduce
themselves. Annie, the four-year-old girl, was especially interested in the
“baby in her tummy” and Joey, her twin, hoped for a boy to play with. Their
mom, Teresa, had a load of hand-me-down clothing to give her, whether it was a
boy or a girl. She’d raved about the quiet, kid-friendly street with a mix of
elderly couples, who acted like surrogate grandparents, and young families.

Kalia hadn’t met the neighbor on the left
but was told he was pretty quiet and kept to himself. Apparently he was a musician
who traveled a lot, but otherwise Teresa didn’t know much about him.

Only two years old, the house was clean and
bright. The front door of the house opened into a small foyer with a living
room off to the left (a great main floor play space when the baby grew to a
toddler). The kitchen and sitting room were at the back of the house. The
kitchen had an efficient work triangle, Shaker-style white cabinets, a gorgeous
granite countertop, and a stunning marble tile backsplash (thank you for the
upgrades, previous owners).

Instead of a formal dining room, the area
adjacent to the sunny nook off the kitchen became her office. There was room
for a computer desk, a loveseat, and a glass cabinet (securely tethered to the
wall) to store her books and papers. Floor-to-ceiling windows provided a view
to the backyard (great for keeping an eye on junior outside playing), and she
could watch the birds, squirrels, and chipmunks scampering about (slightly
distracting when she was working, but it just made her feel happy).

The house had an attached garage (so she
wouldn’t have to carry the baby outside to get into the car when it rained). This
opened into a main floor laundry room (with a perfect counter for a
baby-changing area) and was next to a powder room (so she wouldn’t have to
carry the baby upstairs every time she had to go to the bathroom).

And the house had a yard. Not a big yard –
she didn’t want to spend all her time tending to it, but it was enough that she
could take her little one outside into the sunshine to play.

Upstairs there were three bedrooms –
a master bedroom with an ensuite bathroom and a walk-in closet (someone had
their priorities right), a smaller bedroom (exactly the right size for a
nursery), and an extra bedroom down the hall (ideal for Krista, who had offered
to help out when the baby was born).

The previous owners had painted the walls of
the smallest bedroom black. (Who does that? I like sad. I like sinister. Jeez.)

At one of her prenatal visits, she had mentioned
to Dr. Finn that she’d moved into a new house and had asked about the risk of
paint fumes in pregnancy. Dr. Finn had reassured her that the risk of exposure
to toxins while painting a nursery was probably quite low. Especially if she
wasn’t around oil or lead-based paints or paint that contained mercury. And she
should avoid latex paint that contained ethylene glycol ethers and biocides as
well.

Sounded like a job for a professional.

Dr. Finn had recommended Dr. MacMillan’s
painting company.

Dr. MacMillan had a painting company?

Apparently the two doctors were friends and
had started the company together to pay for medical school tuition. Dr.
MacMillan still painted part-time with her new business partner, Chloe Keay.

Chloe had been fully booked, but when Kalia
had mentioned that she was Dr. MacMillan’s patient and that the job was to
paint a nursery, Chloe had laughed and said she’d fit it in. And today was the
day.

The doorbell rang and Kalia went to answer
it, not as limber with a big belly.

She pulled open the door. “Chloe, hi.”

“Hello there.” Chloe carried a paint can in
one hand and had a large tote on her shoulder. “I swear that belly’s popped out
a bit more since I last saw you two days ago.”

Kalia laughed and rubbed her side. “Due any
day. The baby’s pretty active. I think he’s rarin’ to get out.”

Chloe rested a hand on Kalia’s belly. “He’s
a wild one. It’s a boy?”

Kalia smiled ruefully. “I actually have no
idea. The ultrasound wasn’t clear, and at every prenatal visit, the nurse said
the heart rate was fast and told me I was having a girl. Until yesterday.
Yesterday she said it was a boy.”

Chloe laughed. “By the look of that belly, I’d
have to go with team girl. She’s sittin’ low.”

“I know. I’ve heard that one, too. And I
didn’t have any morning sickness to speak of.”

“There you go. Girl.”

Kalia shrugged and smiled. “I’ve got girl
names all picked out.”

Chloe nodded. “Well, at least you won’t
have to worry about the color of the walls. Off-white with a hint o’ mint will
work both ways.”

Kalia laughed. “Exactly. And I don’t really
care if it’s a girl or boy as long as it’s healthy.”

“That’s how I felt, too.”

“Did you have a girl or a boy?”

“Two boys and a girl. I had triplets.”

“Oh, wow. They must be a handful. I can
barely imagine raising one.”

“They are, but we have a system. And my
hubby, Rip, is amazing with them. Hard to believe they’re just over two years
old now. We’ve managed to keep them alive.” Chloe’s eyes went wide. “When they
started to motor, I had my doubts we could,” she said with a chuckle. “They’re
fast. Luckily, Rip’s faster. He’s a great dad.”

Kalia felt a pang. “Oh. Sounds wonderful.”

“We have a lot of fun.” Chloe adjusted the
tote on her shoulder. “Well, I’d better get those walls done. It looks like you
could pop that bambino out any day now. We’ll see how many coats of primer it
takes to cover the black.”

“Before you paint the accent wall, could I
see the green?”

“Sure thing. Once I prime her up, I’ll
paint a swatch for you.”

Kalia nodded. “Thank you. Can I do anything
to help?”

Chloe smiled. “Sit and relax.” She winked.
“Trust me. Do it while you can.” She carried her equipment upstairs.

Kalia heard Chloe go back outside one more
time and then it was quiet. She sat at her computer and worked on the article
she was translating. At lunchtime, she went up to check on the progress.

All the walls in the nursery were white.

“Oh, Chloe. That looks fantastic.”

“Only primer so far, but it’s like night
and day.” She grinned. “Literally.”

“Oh, even with primer, the room looks so
much bigger and brighter. What a transformation.”

Chloe stepped back and nodded. “I’ve seen
black on an accent wall in a study. But the cabinets were all white, and there
was a ton of light from a big picture window. Stunning-o-rama. This space is a
tad small to have all four walls painted black.”

“I love the white. It’s a hundred percent
better.”

“Glad you like it.” Chloe pointed to a
square on the wall. “There’s your Meadow Green. Whattaya think?”

Kalia turned and looked. “Love it. That is
exactly what I wanted. Good eye.”

Chloe flashed a smile. “Thanks. I’ve picked
a lot of color in my day. I think it’ll look great.”

“So do I.” Kalia rubbed her belly. “I was
going to make lunch. Would you like a cup of tea? A sandwich or a salad –
something to eat?”

Chloe wrapped her brush in plastic wrap. “Ah,
that’s sweet of you. But I thought I’d scoot home for lunch. Rip’s looking
after the triplets today. He’ll appreciate another set of hands and eyes at
lunchtime. I live close by – one of the reasons today worked.”

“Thanks again for fitting this in, Chloe. It
sounds like you’re really busy.”

“I am, and I love it.” Chloe slipped the
roller brush in a plastic bag and smoothed it closed. “Bennett Homes have a new
subdivision going in on the west side of Rivermede. And they’re just about
ready to have the painting started.” She tapped the lid of the paint can with a
mallet. “And when that’s done, we’ll be updating the penthouse floor at Bennett
Suites on the Water.”

“Oh, that’s a spectacular place. I’ve
wondered what the rooms look like. I’ve been to the restaurant, once. The food
was delicious and the décor very elegant.”

Chloe nodded. “The suites are like that,
too. If there’s one thing those Bennett men are famous for, it’s their good
taste,” she said with a laugh. She picked up her keys. “I won’t be long. I’ll give
the primer an hour to dry and then come back and put the paint on. I should be
able to get two coats done today.” She glanced at the window. “I’d leave that
open for now.”

“I will. Thanks again, Chloe.”

“You’re welcome, duckie. Be back soon.” She
waved good-bye. “Don’t pop that bambino out while I’m gone,” she said, and
skipped down the stairs.

Kalia laughed. “I’ll try not to.” She followed
her downstairs more slowly. Tomorrow she’d be able to decorate the nursery. It
was all falling into place.

Two days later, the nursery walls were done
and the furniture assembled.

Kalia had said no to a baby shower, but it
hadn’t mattered. Her parents and brother had surprised her with a new crib and
change table. Krista had given her a stroller with a detachable car seat. It
was a simple design. She hadn’t figured it out yet, but it was going to be
great.

Her father had put together the crib, and
her mom had sewn curtains to match the adorable linens – pale yellow
and green and adorned with a grinning elephant and a goofy giraffe. Kalia had
added a twin bed and a rocking chair to the nursery, decorated the walls with
the alphabet, and hung a stuffed hot air balloon with the same charming animals
in the bucket. She couldn’t go upstairs without stopping to admire the room.

Kalia sat at her computer trying to focus.
She needed to get the last of the outstanding jobs done before the baby arrived.
If she completed them, she’d be able to take two or three weeks off, if she
needed. And according to experienced mothers, she would need it.

She scrolled through her emails before she
got down to work. One from the International Forum of Neuroscience caught her
eye. She was still on their email list, even though the work had been completed
months ago. She opened it and read.

It is
with great sadness that we mourn the loss of one of the most promising, young
neuroscientific researchers, Dr. Alexandre Sinclair.

What? Kalia bolted upright.

Dr.
Sinclair, aged thirty, lost his battle with non-Hodgkin lymphoma, diagnosed
only ten months ago. He is survived by his parents, Dr. Alain Sinclair and Dr.
Fiona Tabeau-Sinclair.

Dr. Alexandre
Sinclair received his master’s degree and PhD in neuroscience at Oxford
University and went on to study medicine and receive specialist certification
in neurology at Stanford University. He was a pioneer of addiction research,
and his numerous published papers, in journals ranging from
Addiction
to
The New
England Journal of Medicine
, have changed
the way scientific researchers and clinicians approach addiction worldwide. He
was president of the International Neuroscience Association and held honorary
positions in the American Academy of Neuroscience and the Addiction Research
Foundation.

The funeral
will be held on Friday, July 12 at St. Bastille Cathedral in Paris. A
scholarship trust fund has been set up in Dr. Alexandre Sinclair’s name. Online
condolences can be . . .

No. It can’t be true. No. No. Kalia’s hands
shook. Alexandre was so young. So full of life. No. Please God. Tremors racked
her body as she read the obituary again.

“I love you.” She crumpled in the chair. “Don’t
leave me.”

Non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Oh Alexandre.

He hadn’t said a word.
I can’t make promises for tomorrow
, he’d said. She’d assumed there
was someone else. But that wasn’t it at all. Ten months ago. Had he known when
he’d met her? Had he found out after the conference? Had he needed her?

It was just too sad.

And now she’d never have the chance to tell
him about the baby. Her chest tightened as guilt ripped through her. She had decided
to wait until the baby was born and then contact him. She’d wanted him to know.
She’d wanted to be a family. She’d played God and made the decision to wait. If
something had happened and the baby had died before it was born, she hadn’t
wanted to bother him.

Oh my God, how could she have thought that?
She hadn’t wanted to bother him with the fact that he had a child? What had she
been thinking? Her breath caught on a sob and tears silently streamed down her
face. What had she done? “Alex, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Her fingers shook as she turned to her
computer and started looking up flights. She had to go. She had to say good-bye.
She tried to wipe away the tears that blurred her vision so she could read the
screen, but she just couldn’t do it. She laid her head in her arms and cried.

“Kalia. What’s wrong?” Krista walked in with
an armload of groceries and found Kalia slumped at her desk, sobbing. She set
the groceries on the counter and rushed over to wrap her arm around Kalia’s
trembling shoulders. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?” she asked gently, helping
Kalia up and guiding her to the sofa. She looked at Kalia’s pale face, tears
streaming down, and tightened her hold as Kalia shuddered.

Kalia looked at her blankly and tried to
speak but buried her head in Krista’s shoulder, sobbing harder.

“Hey, it’s okay. Shhh.” Krista’s gut
clenched. She rubbed Kalia’s back. “Are you in pain? In labor?”

Kalia shook her head.

Krista rested her hand on Kalia’s abdomen
and felt the baby kick. Reassured, she held Kalia quietly until her sobs slowed
and her breathing hitched.

“Try deep, easy breaths, Kalia. Just in and
out,” she said soothingly. Krista looked over at the computer, wondering what had
set this off. She had been one of the first people Kalia had told about the
pregnancy. She had accompanied Kalia to the prenatal classes, had been there
for the ultrasound, and had tagged along to some of the physician visits.

She spoke with Kalia every day and had
marveled at her calm and patient acceptance of all the changes that were
happening. Kalia had seemed so sure about her decision to keep the baby and
become a parent. She had been excited to move into the little house and was
immersed in the decorating and organizing – in the nesting. She
hadn’t seemed stressed or at least no more stressed than any new mom-to-be. She
took care of herself – ate well, slept, exercised, read. She seemed
so together.

Kalia looked up. “I n-n-need to g-g-go to
Paris.” She hiccupped.

“Okay,” Krista said slowly, handing Kalia a
tissue. “After the baby’s born, maybe the three of us could travel there
together.”

Kalia looked up, alarmed. “No,” she said,
her voice rising. “I need to go this week. For Friday.”

Hello, the due date was what? Less than a
week away? No airline, or doctor for that matter, would allow travel this late
in a pregnancy. She looked at Kalia’s tear-streaked face.
Don’t upset the pregnant lady.
“Why do you need to go this week?”
Krista asked as she rubbed Kalia’s back.

“To say good-bye,” Kalia sobbed.

“To say good-bye?” Krista echoed. What
about email, texting, a quick phone call?
“I don’t understand. Why do you need to travel to Paris to say good-bye?”

Kalia tried to speak but couldn’t. She
pointed to the computer.

Krista walked over and sat down. She
toggled the mouse and read the obituary, then looked over at Kalia. “Who is
this?” she asked slowly.

“Th–the father.” Kalia wiped her
eyes.

Kalia had never mentioned the father, and
Krista hadn’t pressured her for answers. “And you found out that he passed away.
You just read this?”

Kalia nodded again, with fresh tears
running down her cheeks.

“Oh Kalia. I’m so sorry.” She closed the
laptop and returned to the sofa. She gathered Kalia in her arms and held her
close. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, her heart aching.

She imagined how she would feel if anything
happened to Kalia. She didn’t love her like a sister and wasn’t just a friend. She
loved Kalia . . . well, like a lover. She had loved her for a long time.

They had known each other since high school
and had been best friends. They had hung out together and double dated.

She had always wondered, but about three
years ago, she had embraced the fact that she was gay. In the past, she had
dated men and enjoyed them, but it never fit. For her. She’d suppressed the
feelings for a long time but had never quite felt whole.

Until she finally had the nerve to join the
LGBTQ community at university. The group had literally saved her. It wasn’t
easy, and she must have walked by the meetings a dozen times before she had the
courage to go in and introduce herself. But then, being gay had felt so right. She
could be herself and enjoy the company of other women.

She dated women now and felt whole and alive
and well. Except she hadn’t come out to her family or friends. She wasn’t ready
for that and wasn’t sure if she ever would be. She hoped someday. But it wasn’t
yet. So she had never mentioned it to Kalia.

When Kalia had called and told her about
the baby, Krista had ached to be a part of this new family. She loved Kalia. She
pictured herself with Kalia and the baby, in the new little house, like a real
family, with a baby to love and take care of. It would be so perfect.

So she’d never asked about the father. She
hadn’t wanted to know that Kalia still loved him or that he might come and take
her place in the family or take the baby away. She hadn’t wanted him to upset
her dream.

She had wondered if Kalia even knew who the
father was. He was never mentioned. Ever. Krista just assumed that Kalia didn’t
know and didn’t care. And that was good.

But obviously this wasn’t good. Kalia
obviously did have feelings for him. Maybe it was just the shock of learning
about his death through an email. That was brutal, almost cruel. She looked at
Kalia and stroked her hair in comfort. It was heartbreaking to see someone she
loved so distressed.

“C-c-could you look into booking a flight
for me? Please,” Kalia asked quietly.

Krista wiped away the tears on Kalia’s
cheeks and sighed. “Kalia, they won’t let you fly at this late stage of your
pregnancy. The airlines have rules about that.”

Kalia looked at her with wide eyes. “But I
have to go. I have to.”

Krista felt her own eyes tear up. “I’m
sorry, love. I don’t think you can. You’re due any day now. I could call the
airline, but I’m almost certain they won’t allow anyone over thirty-six weeks
on a commercial flight. The risk of delivering is too high.”

Krista watched, worrying, as Kalia’s
tear-streaked face went paler still.

“I can’t go?” Kalia asked in a daze,
staring out into space.

“No,” Krista whispered, rubbing Kalia’s
hands. “When’s the last time you spoke to him, Kalia?”

“Umm . . . the night we made love.”

“Did you try to contact him when you found
out you were pregnant?”

“No. No, I didn’t.” Kalia’s breath hitched.
“I was going to. I meant to. I was planning on waiting until the baby was born.
I thought it would be better to wait, to, you know, make sure everything turned
out okay. Then I would tell him.” It was a moment before she could speak. “Didn’t
really factor in that he might die in the meantime,” she whispered. “I’ve
missed him so much. He told me he could only give me one night. He didn’t
explain why, and I didn’t ask. I wanted one night. I’ve tried to get on with my
life. And having to deal with the pregnancy, a new place, that helped.” She
wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “But, God, I missed him. I couldn’t
wait for the baby to be born because then I was going to contact him. I didn’t
want to jinx anything–” She winced. “I know, it sounds stupid when I say
it out loud now, but I didn’t want to, I don’t know, create a big hoopla–”
she waved her hand in the air “–for nothing.

“I didn’t have the chance to say good-bye
that night, and I won’t have the chance to say good-bye now.”

Krista gathered Kalia close. Some day she
hoped Kalia would feel that deeply for her.

She brushed hair from Kalia’s face. “When I
was ten years old, my grandmother died. For most of my life, she lived with us
for half the year and with her sisters in England for the other half. She died
when she was in England. My mom went over for the funeral, but it was too
expensive for all of us to go. I missed her something fierce, and my mom
suggested I write a good-bye letter to her. Tell her the things I would have
said if I’d had the chance when she was dying. It really helped.

“Maybe you don’t have to go to Paris to say
good-bye. Maybe he . . .” She waved at the computer.

“Alexandre,” Kalia supplied.

“Maybe Alexandre can hear you. Maybe you
could write a letter with everything you want to tell him. Like a long-distance
email.” She rubbed Kalia’s back.

Kalia sniffed. “I like that idea.” She
rested her head on Krista’s shoulder. “Do you think that when people die, they become
angels and watch over us? That they see what we do and hear what we have to
say?”

“I think so. I like to believe it. Otherwise,
it’s too sad to think they won’t be a part of our lives. I don’t know if I
believe that they talk to us, but I think they keep an eye on us –
sort of like guardian angels.”

Fresh tears ran down Kalia’s cheeks. “I
hope so, too. I really hope so.” She swallowed. “I want Alex to know I loved
him. That I love this baby and that he has a son or daughter,” she said, her
voice hitching. “I could really use a guardian angel.”

“Write a letter,” Krista encouraged.

“Uh, Krista?”