Marissa was gingerly transferred from the gurney to the bed.
Following orders, she lay quietly on her abdomen, her head to the side. Robert sat in a vinyl chair facing her.
“You feel okay?” he asked.
“As well as can be expected,” Marissa said evasively.
“You’ll be all right?” he asked.
Marissa could tell he was impatient to go.
“AN I’m doing is lying here,” she told him.
“If you have things to do, please, go do them. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?” Robert stood up.
“I suppose if you are comfortable, there are some things I ought to attend to.”
Marissa could tell he was grateful to be excused. Before he left he gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
The way she’d been feeling lately, Marissa was initially more comfortable left alone. But as the hours crawled by, she started to feel lonely, even abandoned She began to look forward to the infrequent visits by one of the Women’s Clinic staff who dropped by to check on her every now and then.
When four hours had passed, Mrs. Hargrave came back to help her dress. At first, Marissa was reluctant to stand up, fearing she would spoil the transfer, even though the prescribed time had gone by. Mrs. Hargrave was nothing but encouraging.
Before Marissa left the clinic, Mrs. Hargrave advised her to take it easy for the next few days. She also told her to avoid sex for a little while.
No problem there, Marissa thought forlornly, especially if Robert continued to sleep in the guest room. She couldn’t remember the last time the two of them had had sex.
Marissa arranged for a cab to come pick her up. The last thing she wanted to do was call Robert for a ride.
She spent the remainder of the day resting. At seven o’clock she watched the news, keeping an ear out for the sound of Robert’s car in the driveway. By eight o’clock she began eyeing the phone. At eight-thirty she broke down and called his office.
Marissa let the phone ring twenty-five times, hoping that he was there by himself and would eventually hear it even if it wasn’t ringing in his private office. But no one picked up.
Hanging up the receiver, Marissa stared at the clock, wondering where Robert could be. She tried to tell herself he was probably on his way home. Marissa had promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She was afraid it might somehow jeopardize the embryos.
But as she sat alone in the dark waiting for Robert to come home at last, loneliness overcame her. Despite her best intentions, tears began to slide down her cheeks. Even if she was pregnant, at this point she wasn’t sure it would be enough to save her marriage.
With deepening despair, she wondered what was going to happen to her life.
Marissa exited from Storrow Drive onto Revere Street at the base of Beacon Hill. As usual, she felt anxious. It had been almost a week since her embryo transfer, and it was difficult for her to think of anything other than the question of whether she was pregnant or not. In just a few days she was scheduled to return to the Women’s Clinic to have blood drawn for a test that would indicate whether or not the transfer had been successful.
While waiting for a red light, Marissa looked at the directions she’d written down when she’d spoken to Susan Walker about the Resolve meeting. She was supposed to take a right on Charles, then a left on Mt. Vernon, and another right on Walnut.
The directions advised her to take any parking place she could find on Beacon Hill.
When the light turned green, Marissa turned right. But before she got to Mt. Vernon, she found a parking place. She took it.
Susan Walker’s house turned out to be a cute little Georgianstyle town house nestled among several others on picturesque Acorn Street.
The door was opened by an extremely attractive, dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties. She was exquisitely attired in a silk dress that immediately made Marissa feel underdressed. Marissa had worn wool slacks and a sweater.
“I’m Susan Walker,” the woman said, extending her hand and shaking Marissa’s firmly. Marissa told her her name.