Disposition of Remains Read online

  “Just shut up and finish your ultrasound,” Jerry commanded with a grin.

  Jumping up and down, it turns out, is not a good idea when you have a full bladder and a baby sitting on top of it. A baby!

  “Is it all right if I go to the bathroom now?” I asked while doing a little dance.

  “Sure. I don’t need a full bladder when you’re this far along,” poor, little Amber replied.

  I had misjudged her as a twit when, clearly, she was far more intelligent than I was.

  I collapsed onto the toilet with my face on my knees. I would probably have remained there, in a catatonic state, but I knew that Jerry and Amber would be waiting for me.

  I did take the time, however, to give myself a nice, long stare in the mirror, saying aloud, “You are the stupidest person on the planet.”

  As I emerged, pale and bug-eyed, Jerry said, “This is good news, Stacia. You don’t have ovarian cancer. You have a baby!”

  “I know, Jerry, I know. I just…I knew what to do when I had cancer. I had it all figured out. I don’t know what to do with a baby.”

  It took a minute for me to grieve the loss of my death. But only a minute. Then, once I started to smile, I couldn’t stop. My baby. Those two words just kept repeating over and over in my head.

  “Jerry, I haven’t taken care of myself at all,” I began to ramble, grabbing the lapel of his lab coat. “I just spent a week barely eating.”

  “As a gerontologist, and a gay man,” he whispered, “babies and pregnant people really aren’t my forte, but from what I understand, the baby will take what it needs from your body whether you take great care of yourself or not. They’re like little parasites.”

  “Don’t talk that way about my baby!” I exclaimed.

  My baby.

  “I went on a huge drinking binge after I the last time I saw you. I haven’t had any prenatal care. I rode a horse. I’ve been on planes and helicopters. I hung over a waterfall. I did everything you’re not supposed to do when you’re pregnant, aside from throwing myself down the stairs.”

  “If you would just lay down, Stacia, and let Amber finish your ultrasound, I’m sure we’ll know a lot more about where things stand. I’m gonna go change your referral from the oncologist to the gynecologist,” Jerry muttered, far less embarrassed than one would expect.

  “Actually, she needs an obstetrician,” Amber interjected.

  “Right. I’m all over it,” Jerry replied, rushing off.

  Amber continued my exam. She showed me arms and legs, a face, and even a tiny, little penis. Once Amber had confirmed that everything looked fine. I was so grateful that when I left the office, I bought her a Coach purse.

  That was the first time I’d ever willingly shopped in a mall for some designer item. It was also my last. From that point on, I adopted more of Misty’s “anything goes” attitude toward apparel.

  As I was shopping I thought, How do I tell Wilbur? I’m not dying…I was just kidding...ha, ha. Oh, and I’m pregnant with another man’s baby, just FYI.

  I decided I couldn’t worry about that right then. One worry at a time.

  Jerry managed to get me an “emergency” appointment with an obstetrician by the name of Dr. Manuel Hernandez, who asked me to call him ‘Dr. Manny.’

  When I told Dr. Manny that I hadn’t even realized I was pregnant, he laughed and said, “You’re not the first one. I have seen women who realized much later than you.”

  Dr. Manny reassured me that I had found out in plenty of time to avoid any unnecessary complications, but still, I remained on edge as he reviewed my ultrasound and my labs.

  Then he peered at me over his glasses and asked, “You know you’re having twins, right?”

  He quickly retracted his statement when he saw the shocked look on my face.

  “Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood. You’re so tense!”

  He laughed and gave me a slap on the leg. Most might have been put off by his joke, even offended, but not me. He reminded me of a slightly older version of Jerry. I liked him right away.

  Later that night, at dinner with Jerry, I listened as he told me all about his latest failed love affairs, which were numerous considering it hadn’t been that long since we’d last spoken. But I was distracted and was only partially paying attention. Finally, I interrupted and began rambling on about my baby. My baby! I was having “nesting” fantasies, wondering what Misty and Wilbur, and even Evan, might think of the new addition.

  “My mom always had a feeling that your mother was hiding something,” Jerry confided after I gave him the unabridged version of my tale. “Even though they were friends, your mother was never very open with mine.”

  “I have to go see your mom!” I exclaimed, interrupting again. Jerry’s mother had always been like a second mother to me. I had spent so many nights with her and Jerry while my mother was away. Even when I was old enough to stay on my own, I still spent most of my time at their house.

  “She still lives in Vegas—very convenient for you,” Jerry quipped. “Hey, why don’t we have a sleepover, like in the old days?”

  “Sounds awesome.”

  We went back to Jerry’s house and spent the evening talking and giggling like teenagers. We snuggled together and watched old home movies. Jerry drank Champagne and gave me some of that bubbly apple-cider stuff. It was fantastic. When he offered to let me stay with him if things didn’t work out for me in Vegas, I felt so liberated, like I could go anywhere or do anything, except for what my pregnancy disallowed. It was so crazy that it had taken believing that I was dying to actually force me to live.

  And I was going to live!

  CHAPTER 42

  I awakened next to Jerry in the morning, feeling like an overfilled balloon about to burst with my news. I couldn’t wait another minute to tell Misty and Wilbur about my new diagnosis. But news of that magnitude couldn’t be delivered via the telephone; it was something I had to convey face to face. So before I’d even finished clearing the breakfast plates, I found myself saying goodbye to Jerry. I was officially back to being a nomad.

  Right around dusk, I turned down Back O’ Beyond Road in Sedona, and parked next to Paul’s truck. As I began the hike up the face of Cathedral Rock, before turning right and heading around toward the river, I could feel the calming energy of the vortex ahead. This was the kind of environment I needed to be in; I had to provide a calming atmosphere for my baby. No more emotional roller coaster.

  I arrived near the same spot I’d been to before, right in the middle of the vortex, next to the stream. Through the slight fog and across the stream, I could see them milling around the campsite, but they hadn’t yet noticed me. I could hardly contain my excitement, and I decided to make a grand entrance. I stripped off my clothes, ran naked toward the riverbank, and executed a perfect cannonball into the water.

  When I came up for air I yelled, “Hey, guys! Did you miss me?” basking in my cleverness.

  My gaze was met by the bewildered stares of three of the roughest looking men I had ever seen.

  “I’ve been missin’ you all my life darlin’,” one of them replied.

  “Oh my God. I thought you were someone else,” I muttered, quickly ducking back under the water.

  “Stacia?” I heard as I resurfaced.

  I looked around and saw Paul coming out from his tent.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked with surprise.

  “I’m looking for Wilbur and Misty.”

  “Are you…naked?”

  “I didn’t realize…,” I began as Paul started to laugh hysterically.

  “These guys work for my construction company. This is Big Jim, Bob, and Thug.”

  “Oh,…um, hello…great to meet you. Got a towel by any chance?”

  Thug handed me a rag, only slightly bigger than a washcloth, and I inched slowly backward out of the river, ducking behind a bush. I quickly dried off as best I could, and redressed.

  “Wilbur and Misty just went for a hike.
She needed a break from all the testosterone. They should be back soon.”

  I was quickly surrounded by Big Jim, Bob, and Thug. It was as though they were newly released prisoners who hadn’t seen a woman in ten years.

  “Back off, boys; she’s Wilbur’s girl,” Paul warned.

  I was Wilbur’s girl, at least for the moment, at least until I told him about the baby. The man had confessed to me in that very stream that he had never really committed to anyone. Maybe he would be so overjoyed by the news that I was going to live that the rest of my news would seem rather insignificant. Or maybe, I thought, when he finds out that our relationship doesn’t have a set shelf life—that I might be around for a while—he might just run for the hills. I started to panic just as I noticed Misty and Wilbur making their way back to camp, so I took a few deep breaths and tried to absorb the calming energy of the vortex.

  The moment he saw me, Wilbur ran over, scooped me up off of the ground, and held me tight. My eyes met his, the magnetism took over, and we kissed. And kissed. And kissed some more.

  “What a great surprise!” he exclaimed.

  “I have even more surprises for in store for you. Can we go for a walk?”

  “All right,” he said cautiously.

  We walked for a few minutes in silence; I didn’t know where to start. I nervously mumbled a few insignificant remarks about the weather before I felt I was able to articulate my news.

  “I went to see Jerry, and he did some tests, and I’m not going to die,” I rambled all in one breath.

  “I like that new attitude!”

  “No. I’m not saying that I’m not going to die, like I’m going to fight this. I mean I’m not dying because I’m not sick.”

  I watched the whole gamut of emotions play across Wilbur’s face: shock, then happiness, then apprehension. I could tell he was wondering whether it was true or whether I was just more delusional than ever.

  “Wilbur, this is real. I’m not sick. It was all a mistake.”

  “Oh my God! That’s amazing!” he yelled, proceeding to pick me up and twirl me around. Suddenly, he stopped and examined my face.

  “But, all the vomiting and passing out…”

  “Well,…I’m kind of…a little…pregnant.”

  “What?!”

  “You know, knocked up…with child.”

  “How? Already? But we hadn’t even—” Wilbur stopped short, realizing.

  “It’s Evan’s. I’m sorry. I really didn’t realize. I know it was ridiculously stupid.”

  “But didn’t you miss your period?”

  “Not until just recently. They were irregular before…and I thought it was because of the cancer,” I said, stumbling over the stupidity of my words.

  “What about the sharp pains?”

  “They’re called rolling ligament pains, totally normal, according to my obstetrician. I never thought in a million years that I was pregnant. I know this is a shock. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do anything. And I don’t expect anything from you, but I have to have this baby.”

  “Stacia, I would never suggest otherwise. This is incredible! I want you to marry me. I’ll take care of you and the baby.”

  He launched me into the air and spun me around again, like Mary Poppins’ umbrella.

  I was stunned. I looked him in the eye once he finally set me down.

  “But you don’t believe in marriage.”

  “I believe in you. I believe in us. I love you, and that’s all that matters. Every time we’ve been separated I can’t focus on anything but wanting to be near you again. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone full time, but that’s how I feel about you.”

  “I love you too, but I think we both need some time to wrap our heads around this. We have the rest of our lives to figure it all out.”

  “All right,” he sighed.

  I so loved him. He always said, “all right.”

  Then Wilbur added, “But I won’t change my mind. I love you. I love that you’re going to live. I thought I was about to lose you, and now we have a second chance. I’m not letting you get away this time. I won’t lose you again.”

  He slid his hand gently over my lower abdomen.

  “Either one of you.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Weeks turned into months as I contemplated whether or not to tell Evan about the baby. It would have been so easy just to leave him in the dark. How would he ever find out if I didn’t tell him? In my mind, I argued both sides over and over. The thought of having that man in my life for another eighteen-or-so years made me shudder. But it just didn’t sit right with me, evading the truth—especially when the truth is what saved me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I believed that something or someone had exonerated me, maybe because I had made an attempt to be a good person. Maybe it was something else. I would probably never know, but I didn’t want to squander my good fortune by becoming a deceitful menace to society. I didn’t want to become one of those people you see on talk shows throwing chairs at each other after they receive the DNA test results.

  I decided to do the right thing, and as luck would have it, Evan didn’t believe me. At first, he thought that I was making up the baby news to get him back—as if that would ever happen. Then, when he saw that I was, in fact, pregnant, he called me a “whore” and insisted that my precious, little baby wasn’t his. I had never been so ecstatic to be called such a vile name. I wanted my son to have everything, including knowledge of his biological father, but ultimately, he was so much better off without him. I hoped that he wouldn’t feel a void and someday try to seek him out, as he would be most disappointed at what he would discover. My other hope was that Asshole-Shit-for-Brains Disease wasn’t genetic.

  Evan negotiated the terms of our divorce, which included, but were not limited to, him getting everything and me getting nothing. He even wanted half of my $7,600 slot-machine winnings. California is a no-fault state, and while I was entitled to an equal portion of his earnings during our seventeen-year marriage, I gladly signed his version. I think he was disappointed to miss out on a rough-and-tumble fight. When the final papers arrived in the mail, they included a brief cover letter from Evan.

  Your mother gave me this letter, and asked me to give it to you after she died. She never said how long after, YOU BITCH!

  I frantically tore through the manila envelope and found a letter-sized envelope inside. Though it obviously had once been sealed, it had clearly been opened. It was handwritten in cursive.

  Dear Anastasia,

  If you are reading this letter, it means I am gone. I have never been able to express how much I love you. It always comes out wrong. You are the most special thing in the world to me, which is why I want to tell you the truth. I should have told you while I was still living, but I was too ashamed. Even as I write this, I am terrified that you will judge me poorly when you know the truth.

  I want you to have all the things that I was not able to have. Not only the material things that I didn’t have because I grew up on the reservation, I also want you to have all the joys of life that I didn’t have because I made the wrong choices. The truth is, I was never a nurse. I know this will come as a shock to you, and I’m sorry. I was just a cocktail waitress—a boozie. I worked at the Imperial Palace for eighteen years.

  There is more. This is the part that I dread telling you most, the part I know you won’t understand. I hope, after some time, you will find a way to forgive me.

  Your father is not dead. I spent my whole life trying not to love him because he was married. I failed miserably. I never wanted you to be like me; I wanted you to look up to me. That is why I lied.

  Your father is a doctor here in Las Vegas. His name is Alexander Misalov. I will ask Evan to give him a letter as well, because he doesn’t know about you either. I hope that someday you will meet him and understand why I loved him so much.

  As we’ve already discussed, I would like to be cremated. What I haven’t told you yet is that I would
like my ashes to be left at the place I first met your father. He’ll know where. My hope is that you can go there together, because you were the two most important people in my life. I know it’s a lot to ask, especially after what I’ve done.

  I want you to know that you are not alone. My family lives on the Havasupai reservation on the floor of the Grand Canyon. Please tell my father and my sister, Irma, that I’m sorry for all I’ve done.

  One more thing. I know that you left that boy, Michael, because of me, and I can see how unhappy you are. I know I pushed you into accepting Evan’s advances. I want you do to what you want to do. Follow your heart. Go with the boy to Italy if that’s what you want. Don’t listen to me. I’ve been a fool.

  Love,

  Mom

  I wanted to kill Evan. That horrible bastard had withheld the one thing that could have changed the course of my life. If I had read that letter when she had intended for me to, I never would have married Evan, and he knew it. Maintaining possession of that letter kept him in control of my life. The only reason he gave it to me when he finally did was to provoke me. He knew there was no other way to get to me. One final screw you. I decided not to give him what he wanted. I never spoke to him again.

  I did hear, however, that he married Margaret shortly after our divorce was final. It was a mystery to everyone when she committed suicide six years later. A mystery to everyone but me.

  Shortly after I arrived back in town, I started my job in the nursery at Las Vegas Memorial Hospital. After I had saved some money, Misty and I moved into a bigger place. She was as excited about the baby as I was. We shopped for baby stuff all the time, and were mistaken for a lesbian couple on more than one occasion. We arranged our work schedules so that one of us was always home with the baby after he was born.

  Misty took me to the grave of her late husband and son. Rather than bringing flowers, she would bring jokes, things she would cut out from the newspaper or print up from the Internet. They hadn’t laughed enough in life, she would say. She wanted nothing more than for them to be continually laughing.