Chapters (65)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Part Two
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Part Three
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- About the Publisher
“No, ma’am, I will not,” she said. “I am coming in there with you.” Vera put the car in park and pulled the keys out of the ignition. I tumbled out of the car, and she followed me.
Inside was warm and dim. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, and the noise gave me a headache. Loud conversation. Overhead music. I scanned the guys sitting at the bar. A good-looking bartender was drying glasses and stacking them. He smiled at me when we made eye contact.
Then the booths. Tall wooden booths lined the edges of the place, and I grabbed hold of each one to brace myself as I walked down the aisle.
“I’ll be right with you,” said a waitress, squeezing past me and carrying a tray of beers. It wasn’t Bailey.
Neon lights and televisions flashed red and blue. The dark-paneled walls were covered in framed newspaper clippings and black-and-white photos. The floor was sticky. The women’s bathroom was occupied. I went into the men’s and locked it. The outside sounds were immediately muffled, and I leaned against the porcelain sink.
Someone knocked and jiggled the doorknob.
“Busy,” I yelled.
“Cally?” said the voice. It was Vera. “Are you all right? Let me in.”
“No.”
“There’s a baby out here.” She jiggled the doorknob again. “There’s a baby!” she yelled.
My thighs tightened. My tummy seized, and I leaned over. I wobbled to the door and unlocked it. “I’m cramping,” I said.
Vera came in and closed the door behind her. She held on to one side of me to keep me from falling. “Okay, move over here, sit down.” She walked me to the toilet. She was so strong for a grandma. The toilet lid was up, and the bowl was covered in urine. Vera lowered the lid and wiped it off. “There, it’s okay.”
I sat and leaned over in pain.
“Take a deep breath.” She leaned down and tried to see my eyes. “Do you feel faint?” She put her hand on my forehead. “You’re sweaty.”
“No, I’ll be okay,” I said. “I just need to . . . change my pad.”
“All right.” She glanced at my backpack, dropped on the floor. “I’ll wait outside the door.”
I’d been changing my pads every hour, but this time I changed it, and it immediately filled up again. I put on another clean one and stuffed my pants with paper towels as extra backup.