The Green Lace Corset, стр. 42
“No, it’s not that bad. I’ll be fine.” Anne hated to take meds. They couldn’t be good for the baby anyway.
“Let’s hear what we’ve got.” Lori lifted the paper gown, put her stethoscope to Anne’s bloated stomach, and listened. “I can hear a healthy, steady heartbeat. Do you want to hear?”
If she heard it, she might be swayed to make a bad decision. “What if . . . What if . . .”
“What if what?” Lori looked at her sympathetically.
Anne couldn’t ask about ending the pregnancy. She wished her mom were here. Maybe she should have let Fay come with her.
“I’m going to draw some blood to make sure you’re healthy.” Lori put the drape back over Anne and picked up a syringe. “This might prick.”
Anne felt the pinch and turned her head. “Can you tell the sex of the baby?” she asked, feeling faint as she watched Lori put the vial on the table.
“Not yet. We can when you have your eighteen-week ultrasound. Any more questions?”
“Is there a way I can have some of that blood?”
“What? Why?”
Anne swallowed. “I ordered a paternity kit online.”
Lori didn’t even flinch. “I see. You’ll need the form for that. Make an appointment, and we’ll be happy to draw blood for you then.”
She handed Anne some prescriptions and brochures, including one about terminations. “Read these over and e-mail me if you have any additional questions.”
29
Even though it had been only two days since she’d ordered it, Anne opened her mailbox, hoping the kit had arrived. Thai purred like a motor and zigzagged around her feet as she flipped through the junk mail, then bent down and petted the cat’s silver-gray fur coat.
“What happened to that little-ball-of-sweetness sister of yours?” Anne asked Thai, and looked over at Mrs. Landenheim’s door. Thai hissed and sprinted away.
She hoped the kit would fit in her thin mailbox. If it had to go in the open bin below, someone might see it. She had once caught Mrs. Landenheim picking up packages and looking at labels. Anne hoped the DNA company would be discreet.
She ran up the stairs, Thai on her heels. Anne’s phone rang. Priscilla. That was fast. The interview had been only a few hours earlier. Anne sat on the daybed and braced herself, with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Thai curled up in a corner of the apartment and looked at her with crossed eyes.
“Anne, I have good news and bad news.” Priscilla’s shrill voice was grating. “Against my better judgment, we’d like to offer you the residency. The bad news is, you and Karl will both be residents.”
Anne’s heart plummeted. “What does that mean?”
“The stipend will be split in half. You’ll be sharing the studio space with him.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I know it’s not what you were hoping for, but many artists collaborate.”
“It’s not that.” Anne paused a few seconds to gather her next words. “We just aren’t very good friends.”
No way was she going to tell Priscilla that a few years earlier, she’d dated him without realizing he was married. Anne didn’t want to throw him under the bus like he had with her. Karma and all that.
Priscilla’s pen clicked on her desk. “I’m not asking you to be beasties.”
“Do you mean besties?” Anne held back a snicker.
“Whatever.”
“Would I need to be in the studio at the same time he’s there?”
“Yes, the committee felt it would be more interesting for the museum guests to observe two artists working instead of just one.”
“Just like monkeys at the zoo?” Anne couldn’t believe she’d blurted that out.
“It isn’t like that at all. Think about it, and let me know by the end of the week.” Priscilla sounded like she didn’t want Anne to take it. Why had she turned against her?
“When would the residency begin?”
“In a month.”
A month. Well, by then Anne should have made a decision about the baby. Her gut instinct told her to say no to Priscilla, but she decided to wait. “I’ll let you know.” She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice when she said thank you.
“And you need to get your little artists under control and keep the work spaces neat.”
“Alexa, play The Pretenders,” Anne ordered after she hung up. She seized a plate from her stack on an art-supply shelf, put it in a paper bag, broke it with a hammer, and shook the shards into a box. Thai skittered across the room and hid under the bed.
Anne seized another plate, put it in a paper bag, broke it with a hammer, and shook it into the box. Repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat.
She sang along to “Precious” with Chrissie Hynde.
The music and smashing worked their magic. Anne considered the hubcap leaning on the floor but instead chose a wide white wooden bowl and laid it on her kitchenette table. She pranced over to her found objects lined up on the shelf, selected a Goodwill Our Lady of Guadalupe statue, and glued it in the bowl’s center. There, that felt good.
She dumped a Tupperware of found objects on the table, chose pieces that called to her, and adhered them around the statue.
Out of breath, Anne lay on the bed. “Alexa, off.” She tried to get Thai to come out from under the bed, but to no avail, and soon Anne fell asleep.
It was dark by the time Thai’s nails scratching on the door woke Anne. She let the cat out and studied the piece she’d made. Not bad, if she said so herself.
In her journal, she listed the assortment of earrings, pins, and other found objects she’d used and what they might signify.
Silver spoon = born with riches
Sun = good weather
Umbrella = rain
Airplane pin = safe travels
Heart = love
“Mother” charm = a mom
Chicken and grapes = food
A watch = more time
Assorted coins = money
Caesar’s Palace chit = win big in Vegas
Flowers = environment
Fish = clean ocean
Lamppost = to see the light
She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, in and out. What did all these objects have in common?