The Family You Choose (20 page)

Mitch swallowed, not sure what to say. He
didn’t have to think, because Zainab came rushing in. "Jessie,
sweetie, no, this is Mitch. We’re just going to be a few
minutes."

"Okay," she shrugged. "But I think he looks
like a Martin." Then she turned back to the TV.

Zainab led Mitch to the dining room. "Wow,"
he said sadly.

"Believe it or not, the doctor assured me
that’s actually a good sign," but Zainab didn’t look convinced.

"Doesn't her aunt help out?"

Zainab rolled her eyes. "The thought of Lucy
staying in with Jessie all day is laughable."

Mitch raised his eyebrows. "And do you want
to tell me why you have a security guard posted at your front door?
Does Richard have some super-secret industrial designs that he’s
put here for safe-keeping?"

"I wish."

Mitch stiffened. "Does this have anything to
do with Michael Abbot? Because if it does, you can let that guy go
right now and I’ll take care of that freak myself."

Zainab sighed. "Mitch, yes and no. And trust
me, Richard and I both considered using your services instead of
the guy out there."

"You just let me know."

"Unfortunately, taking Alex out might prove
to be a little bit messier."

"Alex Sheldon?" Mitch whispered. Miranda’s
call. Zainab this morning. "Is Miranda okay?"

"If I say no will you stop being a jerk about
her?"

"Is it that bad?"

"You have no idea." She took a deep breath.
"What’s wrong with Emily?"

"Emily’s pregnant."

"Oh, Mitch!" Zainab shouted, as she threw her
arms around him.

Mitch nearly stumbled, then laughed and
hugged her back. "You’re the first person we’ve told." He was glad.
Her easy happiness made him feel like he could stop worrying.

She let him go and squeezed his arm. "How far
along is she? I didn’t know you were planning…"

"We weren’t planning. It just happened."

Zainab laughed. "Are you fifteen? You know
these things don’t just happen, right?"

Mitch’s face darkened. "No, I’m not. I swear,
we took precautions, but it happened anyway."

"I guess they are only ninety five percent
effective."

"Would you stop joking about this? I’m not
fifteen but Emily...she’s not much older, is she?"

Zainab softened. "Mitch, I don’t care what
the calendar says. Emily’s the most mature and responsible person I
know. She’s out of college, she doesn’t party and you guys are
married. Maybe it’s a little early, but…" She shrugged. "That’s
just the way your cookie crumbled, right?"

She put an emphasis on the last word. Mitch
looked at her for a second, and then widened his eyes in
comprehension. "Excuse me?"

"Chill, buddy. I wasn’t saying you had to,
but it is the twenty-first century, and if you don’t feel like this
is the right time, we do live in a blue state."

"Yes, thank you, and while I do appreciate
that women in this country have the right to choose whether or not
they’re going to terminate a pregnancy, this pregnancy is going to
remain un-terminated, alright?" Mitch surprised himself with his
vehemence. He’d only spent that little bit of time on Friday night
even thinking about the little thing causing his wife to degrade in
front of his eyes, but that had been enough.

Zainab smiled and patted Mitch on the arm.
"Alrighty then!" They both laughed at Emily’s phrase. "So did you
risk being frisked by the security guard just to tell me that?"

"Sort of, and by the way we’re not done with
that story. Emily is in really, really rough shape. She’s been
throwing up all weekend. I can’t even get her to keep water down,
and she was pretty small to begin with. She couldn’t drag herself
to work, so you can imagine. Is there anything, anything she could
take?"

Zainab frowned. "Well, pregnant women,
especially this early on, are usually the last people they want to
give serious medication to."

"So how long is this going to last?" Mitch
said with exasperation. "I mean, I might as well just quit law
school right now and move us in with my parents so I can take care
of her."

Zainab pointed her finger at something in
space. "No, wait. In really serious cases they’ll give pregnant
women anti-emetics that were created for chemo patients."

"Anti-what?"

"It will keep her from throwing up."

Mitch heaved a loud sigh of relief. "Oh,
good! How soon can I get it in her?"

Zainab looked at him very seriously. "How bad
is she?"

"She’ll throw up ice before it has a chance
to melt in her mouth."

"How far along is she?" Mitch shrugged
helplessly. "When was her last period?"

Mitch struggled to remember. "Uh...maybe five
weeks ago."

"Alright. Give me the name and number of the
pharmacy you want to pick this up at. I’ll have it ready for you in
two hours tops."

Mitch wrote down the number and gave it to
Zainab. "What are you going to do?"

"Just reassure me that everything you just
told me was true."

"I swear on my life."

"Then there is a doctor who owes the
Bartolome-Hendricksons a couple of favors, and this can be one of
them."

Miranda woke up on Tuesday morning to find
Michael showered and getting dressed for work. She pulled the
blanket around her. "What time is it?"

"Just about seven," he said, fixing his
tie.

"Really? Do you always get up this
early?"

"Like clockwork. Don’t sound so
surprised."

"No, just disappointed," she said, too tired
to cover.

He smiled and sat down on the bed with her.
"What are you doing tonight?"

"Planning the rest of my life, I
suppose."

"Plan it here—I’ll help."

"Michael-"

"Sorry—you’d rather be at Zainab’s, right?
Alone?"

"I didn’t say that."

"So be here when I get home." He kissed her.
"Just don’t answer the door." He got up and walked out of the
room.

"I don’t have a key!" she called out.

He turned and smiled. "So I guess you’ll just
have to wait here." Before she could say anything, he turned and
left.

She fell back on the bed, unable to fall
asleep. She’d been in Zainab’s apartment. She’d been on a beach.
No, she’d been in Alex’s living room. She’d been in Alex’s study.
She’d been in the restaurant. She’d been in a living room many
years ago and gone away with someone she’d never met. Now she was
back.

She touched the bed she’d spent so many hours
in over the past few days. It was warm. It was warm with him. Oh,
wow; that was something that didn’t make any sense at all. She’d
come into this room one person and left as someone else. Was that
what made her able to go back?

She hugged herself and smiled despite
herself. It was more than that. Michael had been one person when
she came in, but a different person had left just now. He had a
concussion, which was arguably a better excuse than hers. It was
dangerous to believe in something like that when everything else
had dissolved or slipped away. She wasn’t totally alone, and she
wasn’t without her wits—she didn’t need him. No, she didn’t need
him. But she...no, she refused to follow that. She threw off the
blankets and jumped into his shower.

At twelve, Miranda looked at her phone
guiltily. She knew Zainab would be worried after not having heard
from her for three days. She just needed to work up the courage to
call her. After fifteen minutes, she gave into her own conscience,
if only because Michael had nothing to keep her amused other than
the damn, increasingly boring TV and the internet, which was almost
as bad.

"Hi Z," she said once Zainab answered.

"Um, hi...where have you been?"

"What do you mean?" she said nervously.

"Where have you been staying? I called my
place on Saturday night and Sunday morning. Sunday evening. All of
Monday. And, oh look at that, you’re calling from somewhere that’s
registering as Michael Abbot’s number. What a coincidence,
huh?"

Miranda sank into the couch. "Okay, you
caught me."

She heard Zainab sigh. "I caught you doing
what?"

"Right now I’m just watching TV. Actually,
I’m not watching TV. Why is there nothing on right now?"

"There’s a ton on. It’s just that none of it
is nearly as exciting as what’s going on with you, apparently."

"Oh, Zainab," Miranda pleaded, "don’t be mad,
okay?"

"Sweetie, I’m not mad, I’m just worried.
Michael has never done anything to me except give Richard way too
much to worry about. If I didn’t know everything you—and Emily—and
Jessie—told me, I’d probably say that he was a nice enough guy.
But, um, what’s your excuse?"

"I don’t know!" she practically screamed,
leaning her head back. "It doesn’t make sense to me. I just...I
never thought he’d make me feel this way." She took a deep breath,
trying not to think about him just like that right now. "I never
thought anyone would make me feel like this."

"Not even Alex?"

"Alex?" It was as if she hadn’t heard that
name in years. "No, I never thought...I mean, I wanted us to be
intimate, but I never thought it would be like this."

"Like what?"

"…Like I can’t get enough of him."

"We’re still talking about Michael, right?
Michael, who could maybe stand to lose a few pounds, has lousy
posture and is, well, Michael?"

"I don’t know how ‘Michael’ he is anymore. I
mean, I know how stupid that sounds, but he hasn’t been like that.
He’s even been a little bit heroic."

"What did he do, kill a dragon?"

"Don’t make fun of me. And actually, what he
did was a little scarier. He hid me from Alex and got punched for
it!"

"Is he alright?"

"The ER thought so, after four hours. But
we’ll know for sure after he sees the doctor today."

"Christ! Alex gave Michael a concussion?"

"That, after he broke Michael’s lamp."

"I never would have thought Alex had it in
him."

"Neither would I. Good thing Richard’s a
little shrewder than the both of us."

"Huh? Oh, yeah the security guard. Boy, Mitch
kind of got a kick out of that."

"Mitch was there? Is Jessie better now?"

"No, I mean, yes, sort of, but not
enough...She’s only seen Mitch once, and on top of that she
confused him with Martin...that was heart-breaking."

"Oh, Jess," Miranda said, wiping tears from
her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much of an impression Martin had
made on Jessie. "So, why was Mitch there in the first place?"

Zainab held her breath, trying to think of
the best way to handle this. "It’s sort of a long story," she said
at last.

"Is it longer than mine?"

"Yeah, I think you could say that."

"Should I call her? Should I go visit
her?"

Zainab strummed her fingers on her chair. The
medication probably hadn’t taken effect yet. "No, not yet; I think
she’s still in the middle of it, but she should be better by next
week."

"Alright, if you say so. Besides, I don’t
know what the Hell I’m going to say to her about this thing,
whatever this thing is."

"What do you feel, Miranda? What do you
want?"

Miranda closed her eyes and smiled, rubbing
her feet together. "I feel like I want Michael to come home."

Miranda jumped up and ran to the door when
Michael opened it at seven-thirty. She smiled with relief when she
saw him.

He threw his keys on the side table. "Now
that’s the kind of reception I always hoped you’d give me."

"That’s bad creepy."

"And yet you’re happy to see me."

"Do you know how boring the internet is after
three hours?"

"I think you just don’t have the right
sites."

"You’ll just have to show me, I guess."

He pulled her into his arms. "Whatever you
want." He kissed her, and she couldn’t deny to herself just how
much she had missed him. But she didn’t want him to know.

"Wow, you in a tie," she said, stepping
back.

"I had it on this morning, too."

"I was a little sleep-deprived."

"Did you catch up on your sleep?"

"Yeah, mostly."

"Good, you’ll need your energy."

"Right, to plan my next steps."

"That’s exactly what I meant." He kissed her
again. She thought he got better and better at it. She pulled back
again.

"Did you see the doctor?"

"Yes, yes, yes," he said wearily. "I missed
an important international call I’d had planned for a week, but I
got a clean bill of health. Any personality changes you observe
from now on are strictly the result of personal growth."

"Oh, good. Then we’ve got nothing to worry
about."

"Should I take that as an insult?"

"How about a joke, Mister Intensity?"

"Oh, right, I think I’ve heard of those." He
kissed her forehead. "Hungry?"

"You just got home," she teased.

"I meant for food," he said, kissing her
neck.

"Food."
Oh, right
. "I guess I should
eat something. Um, do you have an apple?"

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I think there was that food I had before
Alex punched your lights out—literally."

"That must explain the questionable
humor."

"Or judgment."

"So I guess I’d better feed you so no one
accuses me of taking advantage of you."

"Anyone in particular you had in mind?"

"Richard called me from the West Coast about
six times today."

"And are you going to break? Give me up?"

"Not if you don’t want me to." He kissed her
again. "But I guess I’d like to know why."

"Why what?"

"Why you’re hiding from Richard."

"Really, if I were hiding from Richard, would
I have spent an hour on the phone with Zainab today?"