Chapter 6: Before He Walked Through the Door
Jess answered on the first ring.
"I'm already in the car," she said, before I could speak.
"I saw you called twice earlier and didn't pick up and I have been kicking myself ever since.
How far apart are the contractions?"
"About six minutes.
Jess, I need you to listen to me carefully because I don't have much time."
I told her everything.
The nurse.
The phone.
The voice memo.
My MIL.
Deanna's call.
Sandra.
The lawyer's letter in Chris's car.
I spoke quickly and without stopping and Jess didn't interrupt once, which was how I knew she understood it was serious, because Jess always interrupted.
When I finished, there was a brief silence.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay.
I'm about forty-five minutes out.
Do not sign anything before I get there."
"I wasn't planning to."
"And don't let Chris in that room alone.
Not until I'm there."
"Jess—"
"I mean it.
You are in labor.
You are not in a position to defend yourself against a lawyer's letter and his mother and whoever that woman in the scrubs was, all at the same time, while also having a baby." Her voice was steady but I could hear the anger underneath it, running fast and cold.
"You need someone in that room who is not in active labor.
That's me.
I'm coming."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me.
Just stay on the monitors and don't let anyone pressure you into anything."
I hung up.
Almost immediately, my phone buzzed.
Chris.
Calling back.
I stared at his name on the screen.
I thought about letting it ring.
Then I picked up.
"Mara." His voice was tight.
Controlled.
"How are you?
How's the baby?"
"We're fine," I said.
"Where are you?"
"About thirty minutes out.
I got held up at the site.
I'm so sorry I wasn't there when—"
"Chris." I kept my voice even.
"I heard the voice memo."
Silence.
"The one you sent to your mother," I said.
"Through the nurse.
I heard all of it."
More silence.
Then: "Mara, I can explain—"
"I also spoke to Deanna."
The silence this time was different.
Longer.
When he spoke again, some of the control had gone out of his voice.
"She called you?"
"She did.
She told me about the lawyer.
She told me about the letter you have in your car.
She told me about your aunt Sandra." I paused.
"Is there anything else I should know before you walk through that door?"
"It's not — it's not what it sounds like.
I was scared.
I didn't know how to bring it up and then the months kept going and I kept telling myself I'd find the right time—"
"You had a lawyer draft a letter, Chris.
That's not someone who couldn't find the right time.
That's someone who made a plan."
"I just needed to know—"
"You could have asked me.
You could have sat down across from me at any point in the last six months and said, 'Deanna told me something and I'm scared and I need us to talk about it.' That was the option.
That was always the option." My voice stayed level.
I was proud of that.
"Instead you sent a voice memo to your mother through a woman in scrubs who apparently shouldn't have been in my room at all."
"What woman in scrubs?"
I stopped.
"The nurse who brought the phone to your mother.
The one your aunt Sandra arranged."
"I don't know what you're talking about." His voice had changed again — sharper now, genuinely confused.
"I sent that memo directly to my mother's phone.
I don't know anything about a nurse.
Sandra isn't — I haven't spoken to Sandra in weeks."
The contraction hit.
I pressed the phone to my shoulder and breathed through it, thirty seconds, forty, until it released.
"Mara?
Are you okay?
Mara—"
"I'm fine." I brought the phone back to my ear.
"Get here, Chris.
But know that my sister is coming too.
And until I understand exactly what is happening in this hospital, no one is making any decisions about my baby except me."
I ended the call before he could respond.
The door opened and Dr.
Yuen walked in, calm and unhurried, pulling on a glove.
"All right, Mara.
Let's see where we are."
I lay back.
I breathed.
May you like
I let the doctor do her work.
But my mind stayed on one thing: if Chris hadn't arranged the nurse, and Sandra hadn't spoken to Chris in weeks — then who had sent that woman into my room?
