Title: Serendipity
Author: Andrea
Summary: Abby's having a baby. But who's the daddy?
Author's Note: Big thanks to COURTNEY, LISA and BETH. Sorry it took so long for this update, but I've been sick so the writing thing wasn't happening for a while there. Yes, I am working on new chapters for my other fics. No, I don't have any finished yet. And just to clear up a little old business -- Lynn, I didn't think that *you* were demanding anything of me in your review of chapter 3. On the contrary, I thought your review was sweet. I was upset with other people's 'demands' and considering not posting chapter 4 for a while because of those 'demands.' But then you left a nice review, and it changed my mind. (For more on this subject, see the review I left for myself.) As for the delay with this chapter … well, I promise that wasn't intentional. And at least it's a long one and hopefully, worth the wait. Anyway, I hope to get chapter 6 up more quickly, but if I'm working on updates of other fics, I don't how long it'll take. But remember, nothing inspires me to write more than detailed reviews.
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Chapter 5: When You Assume
"Damn it!" I hang up the phone with a bang.
"What's wrong?" Abby asks, appearing at my elbow.
"Nothing," I say with a sigh.
"It didn't sound like nothing," she says, her voice taking on a singsong quality. "Who was on the phone?"
I might as well tell her, she'll just keep after me until I do. "Chuck."
"What did he do?" she asks, with a knowing half smile.
"Nothing. He just has to work tonight. Pulling a double."
"Oh. And he's skipping out on a hot date?"
"Not exactly. We were supposed to go to a childbirth class."
"Oh, fun."
"I know it's kinda silly. It's not like I haven't been at hundreds of births … so it's probably completely unnecessary, but …"
"Hey, I understand," she says, and then drops her voice down to a whisper, "I was an OB nurse, and I'll probably go myself."
"Actually, it is kinda fun," I tell her. And it is so far. Even if I already know most of the information that's being dispensed, the reminder never hurts. It's sort of reassuring. "Of course, going alone …"
"I'll go with you ."
"What?"
"Well, we were supposed to get together later anyway so …"
"What? We were?"
"Susan. Don't tell me you forgot."
"Um …"
"Susan." She sounds a little perturbed. But I honestly have no memory of making plans with her for tonight.
"You know what pregnancy does to the memory. Just give me a little refresher."
"I was going to come over. Bring pizza. You were going to help me study. Remember?"
"No. I'm sorry, Abby." I can't believe I totally blanked on this whole thing.
"No problem. We'll go to your class and then we can pick up the pizza and go back to your place."
"Okay. But are you sure you really wanna go with me?"
"Sure, why not? I can be your back-up coach. And this way, I'll get a head start." She pauses, and then looks at me with a sly smile. "But you have to do something for me."
"Be your birthing coach?" I ask under my breath since we are now walking down a crowded hallway, and I know that Abby's condition isn't common knowledge yet.
"Actually, I was just going to ask you to lance the boil on Mr. Burnbaum's butt. But if you're offering …"
I know Abby well enough to know that this is probably as close as she'll ever get to actually asking for my help. "I'd be honored."
"To lance the boil? Exam four."
"No, to be your coach."
"Susan, I was kidding. I think you might be a little busy," she points out, looking down at my rather enormous belly.
"They do allow babies in the delivery suites, you know."
"You're gonna bring the baby?"
"Well, last week in class we did talk about having a focal object, and the instructor suggested something to remind you of the ultimate goal. Now what could be a better reminder than an actual baby?"
"Wouldn't you be a little bit distracted?"
"Of course not," I tell her. "I'm going to have a very obedient child who will just sleep quietly if I have something else I need to do. Right, sweetie?" I ask, rubbing my belly and getting a couple of kicks back in response.
"Thanks for that," Abby says, chuckling, "I needed a good laugh." I follow her into the deserted lounge, and sink gratefully into the couch. It's already getting hard to be on my feet for hours at a time. Ah, Abby, you have so much to look forward to. I think I'll keep it to myself for now, though.
"Well, I'll figure something out. But the offer still stands."
"Really?" She pulls a container of yogurt out of the fridge and opens it up. Must be time for the infamous hour-after-lunch snack. Of course, I'm happy to join in when she passes me some yogurt and a spoon of my own.
"Yeah, sure. And since you seem determined to keep the you-know-who out of this whole thing … I'm not gonna let you go through it alone. I told you, we're in this together."
"Well, I guess it is the least you could do … after that nonsense about Luka."
"Well, what was I supposed to think? After all, you rushed out and told him … so I just assumed it was because it also pertained to him. How was I supposed to know that you're keeping the whole thing a secret? I still can't believe you won't tell."
"It's better that he doesn't know … at least right now."
"Him? You mean Mr. Sperm Donor?"
"Susan … I told you, it wasn't …"
"I know, but that's pretty much what you've turned him into."
"Look, can we please not do this right now? I'll tell him if and when the time is right."
"Tell him? Who cares about him? I can't believe you won't tell me who he is!"
"Oh."
"Oh? C'mon, Abby … how about a little hint?"
"No."
"At least tell me if I know him."
"No."
"No, I don't know him? Or no, you won't tell me?"
"No, I won't tell you. Listen, as long as he doesn't know … I don't think anyone else should know about him."
"So maybe you should tell him."
"Why?" she asks with a teasing smile, "So that you'll know who he is?"
"No, of course not," I pause and think for a minute, "Okay, maybe." I can't help it. Not knowing is driving me crazy. I understand why she doesn't want to tell me. But still, I wish she would tell me. "Seriously, Abby … don't you think he has a right to know?"
"No," she shakes her head emphatically. "As far as I'm concerned, he is nothing more than a sperm donor."
"I don't understand. What happened? I mean, he won't talk to you? He ignored your phone calls? Did you have a big fight? What?" I really do wish that I knew a little bit more about the situation because I'd like to help her in any way that I can.
"No. It's just … we never should have been together in the first place. That night never should have happened. It was a weak moment … but he shouldn't have to pay for that for the rest of his life."
"Pay for it?" I'm a little confused because if you ask me, he's paying for his behavior, whatever it was, now-- with Abby's refusal to clue him in.
"Believe me, the last thing he needs is to know about this baby. And this child doesn't need a father who's only around out of obligation. Besides, why should he be obligated, he didn't get a say in the matter -- there was no way that I was going to change my mind about having the baby. This was my choice, not his. And I don't need him around making things miserable for me. All I need to be happy is my baby. And we'll be just fine on our own. With a little help from my friends, of course," she says, giving me a brave smile. But something tells me that in spite of her bravado, this is bothering her more than she's letting on. I mean, it has to be. This isn't something I picture her taking lightly.
"But Abby, he was there. Don't you think that means he has a responsibility?"
"No. My baby, my body, my decision. And that cuts both ways. In the same way that I wouldn't a man forcing me to have a child that I didn't want, it wouldn't be fair for me to force him into something that I want, just because I want it. Why should he have to suffer the consequences of a decision I made on my own? A decision that I couldn't let him in on because it was made for me … in those moments after I got the test results back -- there was no decision to be made, really. I knew I had to have this child. Even though I knew that wouldn't be the best thing for him. So even before I knew that for sure that there was a baby, I knew I'd be doing it myself. And I'm really okay with that."
"Abby …" I just can't believe that she's fine with writing off her child's father. I mean, I know that if I had to, I could do this on my own. If things don't work out with Chuck and the brunt of the parenting falls to me, I could do it. But I can't imagine being so willing to just forget his existence, no matter what the circumstances. From all the conversations that Abby and I have had about her pregnancy, it doesn't seem like the guy is a perpetual loser, a dangerous druggie, or a hardened criminal … someone she has to protect her child from. And she's assured me that her pregnancy isn't a product of rape, but that it was definitely "consensual if ill-fated" whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. I was especially confused when she followed up that statement by saying it was the "luckiest misfortune" of her life.
"I know that you probably think that I'm kidding myself, but I'm really not." She stops, fiddles around with the empty yogurt container, and seems to be considering what to say next. When she speaks, her voice is calm, but still full of emotion. There are no tears, but I can tell by the look on her face, that it's a subject close to her heart.
"I … I've wanted this for a long time. At least, somewhere deep down I wanted it. But I was so worried about taking the risks … for myself, for a baby … and for the unfortunate innocent bystander that would be my child's father and would necessarily get caught up in all the family melodrama. Even if the child is perfect, my family is not. I can maybe protect my child from that … or at least shield him from the worst of it. But I can't imagine how hard it would be to come from outside of a family like mine … and to have to look at your child and wonder if he's gonna grow up and be like this crazy family that you've gotten sucked into. At least I'm prepared … and used to it. And at least this child won't know to be afraid of it, not having ever known anything else. But an outsider … I don't want to do that to anyone. This way I don't have to. It really is better if I don't tell him."
Her child's father? And she feels she can't even tell him that she's pregnant? That can't be an easy thing to deal with. Things aren't necessarily perfect between Chuck and I, but I can't imagine having to keep something like our baby from him, even if I thought it was for his -- or the baby's-- own good.
"You're protecting him."
"I'm protecting everyone. And if things aren't always easy for me, that's okay. I don't mind … because I'm getting something that I always wanted. And I'm willing to pay the price, whatever that may be. It's bad enough that I'm deciding to take on this risk for my baby, but … at least I didn't ask for this to happen. It just did. And I think that if I'm ready to face the risks, it'll be okay. I think I'm ready to be a decent parent. And I figure as far as the baby's concerned, a small chance of inheriting a horrible disease or the somewhat greater chance of getting stuck with a mom who doesn't know what the hell she's doing is better than the alternative. I didn't always think that was the case, but I do now. Of course, I'm not such a mess myself these days …"
"Abby, I didn't say that having the baby was the wrong thing." I pat my belly, thinking of the little person in there who's busy kicking me all day long. "I think it's a great idea. A built-in best friend for my little munchkin. You don't have to convince me."
"No, I have to convince myself. I just have to convince you that I'm doing the right thing by keeping the father out of this."
"No, you don't have to convince me. It's your call. But sometimes … sometimes we can be so desperate to keep the people that we care about safe, that we're a little too overprotective."
"It's my baby, Susan." The firm set of her jaw tells me that this is something she is terribly serious about.
"I thought it was the father you were protecting."
"I'm trying to protect the baby, too."
"From its own father?"
"No," she says, with a faraway look on her face, but a clear, determined look in her eyes. "From being rejected by him. That's not something any kid should have to go through. At least this way there'll be the comfort of knowing that he never knew."
"And your child can hate you for keeping it from him."
"Or thank me for keeping it from him."
"You really think that would happen, Abby? That your child would be grateful to you for keeping its father away from it?"
She looks at me but I can see her disengage. She's not gonna talk about this anymore.
"Okay, okay, I give up," I tell her, waving my hands in the air.
"Gee, thanks. You're too kind," she says with the utmost sarcasm.
"You know, I hear that all the time," Sam says, as she enters the room. "Usually in just about that tone, too."
"Well Susan deserves that tone, she's trying to drive me crazy."
"Yeah?" Sam asks.
"Yeah. And it's none of her business," Abby stresses as she heads across the room, turning to give me a significant look.
"Let me guess," Sam says, "She was asking you about the you-know-what's you-know-who."
"Exactly," Abby tells her.
"Susan, leave Abby alone," Sam chides. "She's got enough to worry about; she doesn't need you pestering her."
"Thank you," Abby says to Sam, looking back at me as she heads toward the door, and sticking her tongue out at me as a parting gesture.
Sam waits until the door closes behind Abby and then turns to me. "So what did you get out of her?"
"Nothing," I say with disappointment. "Wait a minute … what happened to minding our own business?"
"I didn't say we should mind our own business. I just said you should stop bugging her."
"Well, how am I going to get anything out of her if I don't bug her?"
"Good point," she concedes.
"And by the way, thanks for throwing me under the bus. Pretending like you're all about respecting Abby's privacy when I know damn well you want to know just as much as I do."
Sam stirs her coffee and the look on her face makes me think that she's torn between perpetuating her virtue and giving in to her curiosity. She finally makes up her mind and asks, "So she really didn't give up anything?"
"Nope. Nothing. All I know is the baby was a product of consensual sex with some guy that Abby's not really dating but cares enough about to want to protect him."
"Protect him?"
"Well, that's why she's not telling him about the baby. Or so I gather. I think she thinks that she's protecting the baby … but I'm not so sure."
"So who do you think the guy is?"
"I don't know," I tell her. God knows I've been thinking about it enough. But I still haven't come up with any good possibilities. "We don't even know if it's anyone we know."
"Well, let's just assume it is. Any good candidates around here?"
I laugh, a bit derisively, I must admit. "Not especially. At least we can eliminate Luka."
"Or so I hope."
"She wouldn't lie about that."
"Oh, really? If she was trying to protect him?"
"She wouldn't lie to you. He wouldn't lie to you. It's not Luka."
"And it's not Chuck."
"So I hope," I say, giving her a grin.
"Well, that's two down. Who's left?"
"Too bad about Romano … he would have been my first choice."
Sam gives me a disgusted look. Then smiles, slyly. "What about Frank?"
"Married. Not to mention disgusting."
"Jerry?" she suggests.
"Gross."
"Hey!" She snaps her fingers. "What about Lester."
"Lester?" I'm incredulous that the thought would even cross her mind. "That's really gross."
"Well, they did have a few 'study' dates."
"It's a long leap between study group and pregnancy."
"Well, you never know," she says, philosophically, before cracking a smile, "Maybe they were studying anatomy."
I roll my eyes. "Somehow I just don't see it."
"You have any brilliant suggestions?" She asks.
"Um … well, there's always Morris."
"Morris?"
I shrug. "The way she pushes him around all the time … I wouldn't want to know what that relationship would be like."
"I see whips and chains."
"Well, Abby did once contemplate a career as a dominatrix."
"What?" Sam asks with a surprised chuckle. Guess she couldn't tell from my deadpan delivery that I was joking.
"Never mind."
"Morris? Really? Well. That red hair is kinda sexy."
"Sexy, huh?" I ask, somewhat skeptical.
"In a Howdy Doody sort of way."
"Nah, I don't think it could be Morris. Too creepy."
"What about his friend? The cute one?"
"Coop?"
"Yeah," she agrees.
"I don't think he's been around enough lately to give Abby a common cold, much less get her pregnant."
"Hmm … well, we're running out of possibilities."
"Running out? Like we ever had any decent possibilities."
"Well, maybe it is someone we don't know."
"I'm stumped … unless -" I stop abruptly, not wanting to even complete the thought in my head, certainly not wanting to say it out loud.
"Unless…" Sam prods.
"Nothing. Nothing."
"Susan …"
"No, it's crazy. Never mind."
"Susan."
"Forget it," I tell her, hauling my swollen self up off the couch. "I have to get back to work, anyway. I've got a bunch of barfing bag-pipers to check on."
"Huh?"
"Food poisoning," I explain.
"Enjoy that," she offers as I walk toward the door. I throw her a little wave and a sarcastic smile as I head out the door. I can't say as I really enjoy the nine puking pipers, or any of the other patients for that matter, all of whom seem to be of the demanding, whining, and in one instance, biting variety.
"You look like you could use a break," Abby says, finding me with my head resting on my arms as I sit at the desk in the corridor pretending to work on charts.
"I think I'm already taking one." I look up to see her peering down at me.
"You look hungry. Are you hungry? You must be. We're hungry. Let's hit the Jumbo Mart." She grabs at my arm, encouraging me to get up. She's practically hopping up and down. Little Miss Energetic all of a sudden. But that's probably been inspired by the thought of all the junk food lining the shelves of the convenience store across the street. As much as I'd like to stay here for the rest of the day just enjoying the little thumps and bumps from within, I know it's not gonna happen. And now that Abby mentions it, food does have a certain appeal.
"So what are we looking for?" I ask her. "Chili dogs? Doughnuts? Nachos?"
She wrinkles her nose at me, shaking her head in what seems to be disgust. Maybe I hit on an aversion. "No, I want something …"
"What?"
"Healthier?" she finally says, with a little shrug.
"And we're going to the Jumbo Mart? Good luck with that."
We scour the shelves trying to come up with a healthy alternative to the usual junk food. Which is why I end up with a jar of peanut butter and a package of bologna. Oh well, what the hell? Might as well get the baby addicted to preservatives and fat now. I'm considering adding pickles to the mix -- hey, it's a vegetable, right? -- when Abby pops around the corner with a pre-packaged fruit salad in one hand and a block of cheese in the other. Okay, now we've got all the food groups represented. However, seeing her fruit makes me feel a bit guilty about my bologna.
"They sell fruit here?" I ask in surprise. I didn't know that. That's gonna be my defense. Ignorance.
"Yeah, over there in the refrigerator case … just under the bologna," she says, inspecting the package in my hands. Then she notices the display I'm standing front of. "Pickles? Really? Isn't that a bit cliché?"
"Maybe. But I like pickles. What are you planning to do with that cheese?"
"Um … eat it?"
"Well, I know that. But how? Are you gonna just rip open the package and gnaw off a piece?"
"Maybe. Or, you know, I could use a knife to slice it. If they haven't all been removed from the lounge in an effort to keep us all from slitting our wrists."
"Or you could get the stuff that's already sliced and we could have a picnic."
"A picnic?" The little smile she gives me tells me that she thinks I might be a bit crazy.
"Well, we could sit on that bench on the side of the building and bask in the sun."
"Okay, I'm sold. I'll get some sliced cheese, you get some crackers. And I'll meet you by the slushy machine."
"Slushies?" I ask when we meet at the appointed spot.
"I know it's nothing but sugar, but I can't help it. It's become something of an obsession, I think. I don't miss a day of visiting this slushy machine."
And, in fact, her eyes have gotten wide and she's practically licking her lips at the thought of the fruit-flavored ice concoction. I leave her muttering to herself about the benefits of cherry versus blue raspberry and head to the check-out. Oh, chocolate bars. Now what could possibly go better with peanut butter than chocolate? A few minutes later we are out the door with a big bag of goodies. And I only had to sell my car to pay for it. That's what I get for doing my grocery shopping at the convenience store, I guess. We claim our spot on the coveted sun-drenched bench and dig into our lunch, eating straight out of the packages, using a plastic knife to slather the crackers with peanut butter. Now this is my kind of lunch. Oh wait, we already had lunch. Okay, this is my kind of afternoon snack. Oh, already had that too. Oops. Oh, well.
Abby's practically moaning in delight next to me as she chomps into a cracker covered in peanut butter and layered up with cheese and a pickle. Wow. Yeah, that's just gross. And at this point I'm more than a little bit jealous that I spent months upchucking anything that wasn't plain yogurt, and here Abby is eating all manner of disgusting crap without blinking an eye. I'm seriously thinking about knocking over her beloved slushy just for spite, when a shadow suddenly crosses my face. I look up to see some man standing in front of us, looking at Abby. He looks familiar. I think he may be a fellow County doctor. Of course, the white coat, stethoscope, and County ID badge probably helped me considerably in coming to that conclusion.
"Abby?" he asks, smiling down at her. Well, well, well. What is this? I look up at our intruder with a more appraising eye. Not bad. Cute. Dimple in his chin. Dark hair. Nice eyes. Good smile. Hmm. And just how does he know Abby?
A quick glance over at Abby reveals that her cheeks have begun to tint. She swallows hastily and looks up, smiling an odd smile. She seems embarrassed … or something.
"Oh … hi." Maybe it's my imagination, but she seems to be a bit uncomfortable, choking out the words.
"I thought that was you," he says, giving her a charming smile. "Enjoying a late lunch?"
"Yeah." Okay, she definitely seems ill at ease now.
"Well, it is a beautiful day for it. I love spring. Don't you just love spring?"
"Yeah." Well, she's definitely mastered that whole one-word answer thing. I nudge her foot with mine, getting no response. So I put my foot on top of hers and apply a little pressure.
"Ah … hey," she says somewhat indignantly when the pain registers. She turns to me and gives me a "what was that for?" look. I return it with "what the hell is wrong with you?" look, sliding my eyes toward Dr. Dimple, standing just next to us.
"Oh!" Abby seems to brighten up suddenly, pasting on a smile. "Uh, Susan Lewis, this is Matt Gillespie. Susan, Matt. Matt, Susan. Matt's a pediatric resident. He was working in the NICU when I was doing my rotation," she explains to me.
"And Abby was our NICU star," this Dr. Gillespie says. I turn toward Abby in time to see the tag end of a typical eye roll. "You were," he assures her before turning to me. "I can't tell you what a pleasure it is to finally meet the infamous Susan Lewis."
"Infamous?" I ask skeptically. "I know some of my ER escapades are legendary but infamous? I didn't realize that word had traveled outside the ER."
"Are you kidding? Everyone knows who you are."
"Everyone?" This is news to me. What? Am I some kind of County General celebrity? They should really send out memos for these things.
"Well, everyone who spent a month in the box with Abby, anyway." Month in the box? Kinky. I turn and give Abby a questioning look.
"The box is what Matt calls the NICU," Abby clarifies.
"Stuck in there with Abby for a month, and it was nothing but Susan this and Susan that."
"Oh, please," Abby interjects, "I told you , like, two stories."
"Yeah, but they were good stories," Matt counters.
"They must have been, if they were enough to make me infamous."
"She really did talk about you all the time," he says to me in a confiding tone of voice.
"Oh, I did not."
"You didn't?" I ask Abby. "Why not?"
"She did. If I were you, I'd watch out. I think she might be secretly in love with you."
"Matt's working on his stand-up routine. But there's a reason he hasn't quit his day job."
He turns toward me. "Don't pay any attention to her. She's just mad because I wouldn't let her inspect my body art."
"Body art? I thought it was just the one tattoo."
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Not especially."
I observe this little exchange with amusement. We've gone from glaringly awkward to oddly flirtatious in a matter of moments. However, he seems to be having much more fun with this than Abby. In spite of the lightheartedness of the conversation, she seems tense and poised for flight. Well, now … I wonder what this is about.
"Heeellloo, earth to Susan." Abby's voice suddenly reverberates through my head. Guess she wants to get my attention.
"Huh? What?"
"Never mind," Abby says, shaking her head and looking bemused. "Don't mind her … she's not in her right mind these days."
"Well, I hear pregnancy can do that to you," Matt says. "When are you due?"
"Me?" I ask, without thinking. When I glance over at Abby, I see that the flush in her cheeks has deepened. I only pause a moment, but it's long enough for Abby to give me a nudge with her foot and a wide-eyed, significant look.
"Well, you are the only one who's pregnant," Dr. Matt points out.
Abby's giving me something of a pleading look, like she thinks I might just blurt out her secret. Okay, so I might not always be thinking clearly these days, but I'm not quite that out of it. It was a momentary lapse, not realizing who Matt was talking to originally.
"When am I due?" I finally respond, "Not soon enough."
This gets a chuckle from Abby, whether from relief, embarrassment, or agreement, I don't know.
"Ah, it'll be here before you know it. And it'll all be worth it once you have that healthy baby. Right, Abby?" I turn to look at her in time to catch her choking and sputtering over her slushy. She looks panicky. What? Does she think he's figured it out? And so what if he did? "If there's one thing that a NICU rotation will teach you, it's just how lucky anyone is to have a healthy baby."
"Oh … yeah. NICU is … an eye-opener," Abby agrees. But her voice sounds even more quiet and removed than before. Great, she's probably sitting there thinking up a bunch of horrible scenarios -- all the ways her baby could end up in the NICU. Premature birth, birth trauma, congenital defects … oh great, now I'm thinking up a bunch of horrible scenarios. I rub the round bump of my belly. Okay, yeah … I didn't mean that about how this baby can't arrive soon enough. Just stay in there as long as you're supposed to, baby.
Matt seems to sense the shift the mood, and to his credit, seems to realize what caused it. "I'm sorry," he says, "I shouldn't have mentioned the you-know-where. I'm sure that everything will be just fine, and that you'll never have to set foot inside the place. And, you know, if you're in need of a pediatrician … I'm sure I'm the last person you'd ever call."
"Despite not knowing when to keep his mouth shut, Matt really is a very good pediatrician," Abby tells me.
"And you'd be great, too. You should really think about it … NICU, Pedes …we'd be thrilled to have you. Really."
"Thanks," she says to him, "But I'm not sure it's for me."
"I think she's a bit addicted to the adrenaline rush of the ER," I supply.
"Oh. Well, if you ever change your mind …" She nods and gives him a small smile. "It was great bumping into you again. But I really have to get going. I'm meeting someone." He gestures down the street toward Ike's and then turns to me. "It was nice to finally meet you."
"Yeah, likewise. And no offense, but I hope I never have to see you again." He looks a bit startled. I pat the belly and raise my eyebrows at him. "You know, in the NICU."
"Oh, right. Gotcha. Me too. And Abby?"
"Yeah?"
"Good luck."
"Thanks."
He stands and looks at her for a minute, like maybe there's something more that he wants to say. But since Abby seems to be doing her best to not look at him, he finally just departs with a wave over his shoulder. I lean forward as much as possible so that I can watch as he makes his way down the street, where he is joined by a cute redhead in a white lab coat. Judging by the way he tosses his arm around her shoulders, and she plants a kiss on his cheek, I'm guessing this isn't a business lunch. Next to me, Abby heaves a huge sigh. Relief? Frustration? I'm not sure. When I turn my head, I see that she's looking in the same direction that I was. Although the minute she catches my eyes, she makes herself busy with the remnants of our lunch.
"Damn. I was so sure."
"So sure of what?" Abby asks cautiously.
"That he liked you."
"Oh."
"Oh? That's all you have to say? Some cute doc was over here flirting with you and that's your only comment. Oh?"
"He wasn't flirting," she says, somewhat indignantly, as she stands up and gathers up our garbage, taking it over to a nearby garbage can.
"He wasn't? What do you call it?"
"I don't know. Being friendly? Being … Matt? It was nothing."
"Nothing?" I ask as we make our way back across the street. "So there's nothing between you?"
"No! And you saw the same thing I saw. He clearly has a … girlfriend. So can we just drop it?"
"You don't have to be so defensive about it."
"I'm not. But we can please just change the subject?"
"Fine. Why were you so worried that I might spill the beans about your secret?"
"Um … because it's a secret? So by definition I don't want the beans spilled about it?"
"How long do you really expect to keep this under wraps?" I ask, looking down at my own belly and thinking that sooner or later, Abby's gonna be broadcasting the 'secret' herself to the entire world. "Baggy shirts and the layered look won't work forever."
"I don't know. For as long as possible, I guess."
"Sooner or later, mother nature is gonna reveal the truth, you know."
"I'm not worried about mother nature. I'm more worried about my flaky friends." She gives me a look. Hey, I think I should be offended by that. I'm just about to say something when Abby goes on. "God, for a minute there, I was sure he was gonna figure it out."
"Would that have been so bad?"
"Yes!"
"Why?" I probably shouldn't push her buttons like this … but it's all her fault really. If she would just be honest with me …
"Because I don't want him -- or anyone to know. You know that."
"Yeah, but what difference would it make if he knew? Do you really think he's gonna run back and tell everyone in Pediatrics?"
"Yes."
"Why? Why would they care? And why would you care if they know? I mean, it's not like Jerry finding out or something."
"Bite your tongue. My God, if Jerry finds out, the entire Chicago metropolitan area will know by dinner."
"So see? By comparison, Matt finding out would have been nothing."
"I think you're missing the point, Susan. I don't want anyone to know. Especially not Matt." She says that last part under her breath, but I catch it anyway.
"But I know. Sam knows. Luka knows. And people are gonna find out." I still don't get why she should care so much if some guy that she doesn't even work with anymore should happen to find out. Unless … the gears start turning and suddenly it makes sense. Abby's nervousness, defensiveness, her paranoia about someone who should be nothing more than an acquaintance finding out her big secret.
"Look, I know people are gonna find out. But I'm not ready for it yet." She sounds upset, angry even. I guess she has a right. "And it's my decision. I'll tell everyone when I'm ready. Or when I have no other choice. I know you're just trying to look out for me, but this is my business, okay?"
"Okay, okay," I say giving in. "You're right. I'm sorry. Are you mad at me?"
"No… sorry if I snapped at you. I'm not mad, I'm just …"
"Pregnant?" I suggest, but quietly, since we've reached the doors of the ambulance bay. Wouldn't want anyone to overhear me.
"Yeah. I guess."
Just then the doors slide open, and Carter walks out.
"Hey, I've got a GSW to the chest about to roll in, and I could use a hand."
"Don't look at me," I tell him. "I've got an LOL with a fever waiting for me."
"Abby? I'll let you do the chest tube," he offers.
"Gee, you're too good to me." Her delivery is perfectly flat and accompanied by an eye roll. But I notice she pulls a pair of gloves from her pocket, apparently planning to stay.
I go on inside and check on my little old lady, work up a few other patients, and keep my eye out for Sam. Normally she's barreling down the hallways barking at patients and docs alike, but today she's nowhere to be found. Probably off in radiology with Luka, having a nooner. At four o'clock in the afternoon. Oh, well. Soon enough I spy her striding past the windows of curtain 3 where I'm just answering the same question for a patient for about the thirtieth time. Yes, just keep the bandaged area dry. Is it that complicated? I make my excuses, leaving Chuny to finish up the aftercare instructions.
"Sam? Sam!" I chase after her as best I can in my current condition. "Hey wait … do you have a minute?"
"Uh, not really … why? What do you need?"
"It's about Abby."
"Is she okay?" Sam asks immediately.
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, she's fine."
"Good. So …"
"So … I think I figured it out." I tell her, steering her into an empty exam room.
"Figured what out?"
"You know."
"You mean, who's the daddy?" she asks.
"Uh-huh."
"Really?" I've got her attention now. "So who is it? How did you get her to tell you?"
"She … didn't. And I'm not sure, but …"
"So what happened?"
"Well, we went across the street to the Jumbo Mart for a snack."
"Mm, shocking."
"Do you wanna hear this or not?" I ask her.
"Yeah, yeah. Of course I do."
"Okay, so we're sitting there eating our snack when this guy shows up and starts talking to Abby. Turns out he's a pediatrician who was working in the NICU when she was doing her rotation."
"And?"
"And Abby got … all weird."
"Well, that's really telling," she says sarcastically.
"No, it was like … awkward. He seemed fine. Wanted to make small talk with her. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. And she was absolutely freaked out at the thought of him finding out she was pregnant."
"She doesn't want anyone finding out she's pregnant."
"I know, but this seemed to go beyond that. And she was just so odd with him. And I just got this … vibe. Plus, he walked off and met up with some redhead."
"So?"
"So Abby keeps talking about how she can't burden the father since he's moved on and all. Think about it."
"I am thinking about it. And I think those pregnancy hormones have gone to your head."
"You don't believe me?"
"Well … let's just say I think your evidence is a little shaky."
"You weren't there. You didn't see them."
"Nooo, but …"
"But?"
"But I don't think that a little awkwardness and paranoia makes for a love affair gone bad."
"Who said anything about a love affair?" I ask.
"Oh, what? You just think it was a little slap and tickle in one of the incubators?" Sam asks sarcastically.
"Oh, be serious. Why couldn't they have had some sort of fling? I mean, that's pretty much what Abby said, right?"
"I think you're grasping at straws," Sam says as she heads toward the door and pulls it open.
"Oh really? I don't know. I think there's something there. She reacted to this guy so strangely … she hasn't done that with anyone else around here."
"But you don't even know that it is someone around here."
"I know, but …"
"Look, there's one way to know for sure." I give her a blank look. "Just ask her."
"Ask her?"
"Why not? If you're so sure, just ask her."
"Okay. Maybe I will."
So I decide to do just that. Naturally, I don't see Abby for the rest of the afternoon. Just about the time I give up on finding her, she manages to find me.
"Are you ready?" she asks me, poking her head around the door of my locker.
"Ready?"
"For … your … birthing class?"
"Oh my God, what time is it?"
"Ten 'til. It's at seven, right?"
"Yeah. I can't believe I forgot."
She gives me a long look. "You're gonna blame this forgetting thing on the pregnancy again, aren't you?"
"You know it."
"Great. A preview of things to come for me. I can't wait until the day I forget my own name."
"Hey, I'm not that bad. Yet."
The expression on her face suggests that she does think I'm that bad. Just because I forgot our study date and my own birthing class?
"Don't we need pillows or something?" Abby asks as we make our way down the hall.
"I usually steal some from the linen closet."
"Good plan." We make a slight detour to pick up the pillows on our way to the elevator.
"Thanks for coming with me. I could have gone on my own, but this will be much more fun."
She shrugs, "It's no big deal. It will be fun. In addition to getting a sneak preview of what's in store for me, I get to pretend to be Chuck for an evening. What could be more fun?"
"Pretend to be Chuck? Well, I hope your belching and scratching are up to par."
"Susan … Chuck's a great guy." She says this somewhat disapprovingly, like maybe I shouldn't be taking shots at the father of my child who just happened to ditch me tonight.
"Yeah, he is. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't do a lot of belching and scratching."
"Well, he's a man." Which just about sums it up, I guess.
We join the class and settle in, with introductions all around so that everyone can meet Chuck's replacement. Between the video that we watch and the part of class where we are expected to listen and participate, it's a long time before I get a chance to quiz Abby. We're supposed to be working on our breathing exercises, but really, does breathing require that much practice?
"Hee hee hee," Abby demonstrates for me, indicating that I should follow along. When she doesn't get an enthusiastic enough response from me she says, "Susan. C'mon. You're supposed to be practicing."
"What's to practice? I already know how to say 'epidural.' And I'm pretty good with the hees, too. So are you, by the way."
"I would hope so, by now. I spent a lot of years helping women 'hee' their way through labor."
"Will you be there?" I ask, suddenly remembering Abby's vast experience in this area.
"Be where?" she asks.
"Be there when the baby's born."
"When your baby's born?"
"Well, you kinda have to be there for yours. But yeah, would you be there when I have this baby?"
"Really?"
"Well, yeah. You're my back-up coach now, you better do something to earn that title. Besides, I'm a little worried about Chuck."
"Susan … he's a nurse. I don't think he's gonna pass out on you."
"No, it's not that. It's just … you know how Chuck is. Everything's a joke. Which is great -- it's one of the things that I love about him. But I'm just worried …well, that he might not get it. And it would be nice to know that someone will be there that does. Get it, that is. And if I'm coming to your birth, it's only fair that you should come to mine. If you want to."
"I'd love to."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She gives me a big smile and seems really happy that I asked. Okay, while I've got her all buttered up, this seems like the perfect time to ask some nosy questions.
"So … about this Dr. Gillespie …"
"What about him?" Abby's tone is cautious, but somewhat resigned, like she knew this was coming.
"There's really nothing between you two?"
"No." She's giving me a look like I've lost my mind. "And shouldn't you be doing your breathing? Hee hee hee."
"Ah, there's plenty of time for that later. I want to know about you and Dr. Matt."
"Well, there's nothing to know about me and … Dr. Matt. Just breathe."
"Abby …"
"Would you let it go and breathe while you still have the ability?"
"What? Before you strangle me, you mean?" She stills seems awfully touchy about this subject. Okay, time to know for sure. "All right, I tell you what … I'll drop the whole thing."
"Thank you."
"On one condition."
"I should have known that was coming. Fine. Whatever it takes to shut you up."
"Just answer one question."
"About Matt?"
"Yeah."
She heaves a big sigh, rolls her eyes, finally looks back at me. "Fine. One."
"That's all I ask."
"So what do you want to know?"
I take a deep breath, and plunge right in. "Is he the father?"
"What?" She looks stunned. Shocked even. She probably didn't think I would ever figure it out.
"It's a very simple question, Abby," I say, dropping my voice down to a whisper. "Is he the father of your baby?"
"Matt?" She asks, blinking slowly and deliberately. I nod, watching her bring her hand up to cover her mouth. There seem to be tears gathering in the corner of her eyes, and I see her chest trembling as if she's trying not to cry. Oh geez, I didn't mean to make her cry. What the hell did this guy do to her, anyway, that admitting the truth is so scary?
I watch as a tear slides down her cheek. She moves her hand from her mouth to wipe away the tear, and that seems to be all it takes for her to let loose with emotions she's been trying to keep inside. But when she opens her mouth, it's not sobs that spill out, but laughter. I don't mean 'tee hee hee, Susan made a funny' laughter, but I mean side-splitting belly laughter. She's laughing so hard she topples over from her kneeling position next to me onto the mound of hijacked pillows. She ends up sprawled on her back, arms wrapped around her belly with the entire class staring at her …us. When she finally gets control of herself, she sighs and looks up at me, giving me a somewhat patronizing grin.
"What?" I demand, a little mad that she's having so much fun at my expense. "Why is that so funny?"
"I'm sorry. You're right. It's not," she says, struggling to sit up. Of course, she can barely suppress the giggles in her voice.
"Why is it such a ludicrous suggestion? I mean, he's kinda cute. It doesn't seem like he's gay … so stop looking at me like I'm completely crazy."
"You are completely crazy. But I guess it's not that crazy of an idea. It's just that … nothing could be farther from the truth. I mean, I don't think you can get pregnant from sharing the same stethoscope." I roll my eyes at her and give her a somewhat disgusted look. I hate being wrong. I hate it. And now she's making fun of me. It's not nice. "But it all makes sense now," Abby continues.
"What makes sense?"
"You. The way you were looking at Matt. The way you were looking at me when he was there. The way you were grilling me once he was gone."
"I wasn't grilling you," I point out. If she thinks that was grilling …
"Whatever. It just all makes perfect sense now."
"So you're sure he's not the father?"
She starts laughing at me again. Okay, I guess I deserve it this time. Stupid question. "Yes. I'm sure. I was there, remember? And he wasn't."
"So then why were things so … awkward between you two?"
"Awkward?"
"Well, actually, he seemed fine. But you …"
"Oh. Yeah. Um…" She sighs, looks around the room, looks down at her hands in her lap. Finally looks back at me. "Well …"
"Well what?" Oh, maybe I'm gonna get some juicy gossip after all. Just because he's not the father …
She rubs her hand over her face, looks back at me, biting her lip and looking a bit embarrassed. "He kind of …"
"What?"
"Asked me out."
"What? When?"
"The last day of my NICU rotation."
"And?"
"And what? That's it."
"What?" I ask with disappointment. And a little disbelief that this is what's causing her so much stress. "That's it?!"
"Well, I'm just kind of embarrassed about the whole thing."
"Why? You turned him down?"
"Yeah. But it's not just that. I didn't even realize he was … you know … asking me out asking me out. So I just kinda blew him off. I realized later that he was, like, asking me out on an actual date. If I'd have realized, I would have been nicer about the whole thing. I was afraid I hurt his feelings."
"So that was the whole reason you were acting so funny around him?"
"Yeah."
"Just that?"
"Yes."
"So then what was that whole thing about not wanting anyone, especially Matt, to know?"
She rolls her eyes at me, sighing a sigh of the long-suffering. "Because … Matt has a big mouth. He's probably the biggest gossip in Pediatrics, and all he had to do was tell one nurse who remembered me from the NICU and the next thing you know, it would have been all over the hospital."
"And that's it? You just didn't want him to know because he's a big gossip?"
"Yep." She looks at me a moment, then gives me a lopsided grin. "I swear he's not the father. And yes, I'm sure." She's laughing at me again.
"Dammit. I thought I'd finally figured it out."
"This is really bugging you, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Why do you care so much?"
"Because you're my friend. I care about you. I just want everything to be all right with you."
"Everything is all right. Really. But I'm sorry that you're so … frustrated."
"So … does that mean you'll tell me?"
"Hell no."
"Abby, c'mon …"
"No."
"Please?"
"Nope."
"Abbbby … do you see what you've done? You've reduced me to whining and begging."
"Well, that's very unbecoming. But I'm still not gonna tell you."
"Oh, why not? I swear I won't tell a soul. It'll be just between the two of us."
She stops and seems to consider that. She stares at me for a long minute, and finally heaves a big sigh.
"Okay, Susan. I'm going to tell you something. Something very important."
"Yeah?" Oh, I'm excited now. The question that has been bothering me for weeks … and Abby's finally gonna reveal the truth. I guess maybe she trusts me after all.
"Listen carefully," she says, leaning in close to me. Does she really think that I wouldn't pay attention to this piece of information?
"I'm all ears."
"Susan?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up and breathe."
"Okay, I deserved that."
"Yes, you did."
"Are you ever gonna tell me?"
"Maybe. Someday. You'll just have to tune in next week. Maybe you'll find out then."
"You really hate me, don't you?"
"Yeah. You figured it out. I'm sitting her on the floor huffing and puffing with you because I really can't stand you. " She pauses a moment, seems to be thinking about something carefully. "I would tell you, you know. If I could."
"I know." Because I do believe that she means that. I just wish she felt like she could tell me.
"Okay, so let's get back to the heeing."
So we sit on the floor, practicing my breathing exercises and huffing and puffing together. And I realize Abby's right, it's not just anyone who would go through this with me. It takes a real friend. And even if Abby won't tell me the whole truth, I realize that she is trusting with at least half of this big secret of hers. And I have to trust that she's doing what's right for her at the moment. And I know that when she's ready, she'll tell me the rest. Until then, I'll just do my best to be there for her in any way that I can, just the way that she's here for me now.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks.
I sniffle and swipe at a little tear in the corner of my eye. "Nothing. It's nothing. Just … thanks, you know?"
She nods, her face serious and solemn. And then a slow smile appears, turning up the corners of her mouth. "Susan?" Time for a big emotional revelation?
"Yeah?"
"Shut up and breathe."