“It’s more than that. I just always seem frumpy when I’m around them.” It was something she had never said out loud. But if anyone could understand, it was Mia, who had five sisters who didn’t get the hips either.
“You’re not. You’re Mandy. And if someone cannot appreciate Mandy for who she is, they don’t deserve Mandy.” Mia drank another drink.
“Thank you, Mia. You really should travel. Maybe this summer, we can go somewhere together. Road trip,” Amanda suggested, knowing that by summer this would all be behind her.
“I can drink to that. And it’s after five, so you can to.” Mia held up her glass for a toast.
Amanda picked up the glass and tapped it against Mia’s. Bringing it to her lips, she smelled the alcohol she had been avoiding for over four months now. She should drink it. Mia was watching her. She had to drink it, Mia was watching. She couldn’t drink it, even if Mia was watching.
They set their glasses down at the same time. Mia was staring at Amanda’s glass. It was still completely full. Then her eyes met her cousin’s. “I knew it. I knew it. I haven’t seen you drink in forever.”
“I’m just taking a break from alcohol.” Amanda tried to pass it off as nothing.
“Nope, you’re knocked up.” Mia shook her head.
“No,” she lied, because she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Even now.
“Yes, yes, you are. Now, why are you not telling anyone?” Mia leaned back in her chair and stared at her alcohol, suddenly forgotten.
“Because I’m just going to miscarry it, and I don’t want to have people knowing. Everyone knowing.” Amanda had said it out loud to somebody, finally.
“Maybe not. This one could be fine,” Mia protested.
“Mia, I have had nine miscarriages. Nine. This one is no different. There is no other outcome for me,” Amanda said, wanting to drink the whiskey so bad. Wanting it to numb the pain.
“I didn’t know it was so many. I had heard three or four.” Mia closed her eyes.
“No. I just have to wait for my body to reject it, then I will mourn the loss. Then I will go on with my life. Then it will be ten.” Amanda had never said it that way. So matter-of-factly.
“Wouldn’t it be better, easier, if your mom knew? If Kit knew? Julia? Tess? Someone?”
“No. She knew for the first eight. The last one, she didn’t. It was better when I didn’t get asked about it after it happened. The calls of ‘how are you doing?’ The sad eyes when they look at me, the pity. It’s easier to do this alone.”
“I assume the last one was the one your mom didn’t know about.”
“Yes. It was the only one after the divorce.”
“So, not Seth’s. The doctor’s?” Mia asked.
Amanda had known that her secret affair with Paul had gotten out in her family. What she didn’t know was that people outside her immediate family knew. Though, to be honest, Mia was able to find out anything about anyone.
“Yes, it was Paul’s. He was happy when I lost it,” she admitted, ashamed he was the father of this one also.
“When was it?” Mia finished her glass and picked up Amanda’s.
“Just before I moved here. That’s why I had to leave Grand Forks. I needed to get away from him.” Amanda told her the truth.
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“So, you’re just going to wait? You’re not seeing a doctor? Trying to keep it?” Mia questioned.
“The last time I miscarried, I was at work. I was in the neonatal intensive care unit. There was nothing that could have been done. I was in the only place that could have done anything, and there was nothing to be done. So, I wait.”
“Do I know the dad?” Mia leaned on the desk.
“No, and at this point, I don’t consider him anything but a sperm donor. This baby is mine alone to love until it is over.” Amanda touched her stomach lightly, still not daring to fully touch it in front of others.