Chapter 14: Nothing to Test

At a quarter to nine on Monday I stood outside the clinic on Broadway with two coffees going cold.

My mother's Buick turned into the lot at five to.

She got out of the driver's side and left the engine running.

Her face was closed, and she did not look at the coffees.

"She lost it," my mother said. "In the night. In my bathroom."

I looked at the passenger seat.

Lacey was getting out slowly, with a hand on the door frame and a hot water bottle held against her stomach.

She had no makeup on, and her braid was undone, and she was pale to the lips.

"I started bleeding at two," Lacey said. "Your mother held me on the tile floor until it stopped."

"I'm sorry," I said, and meant that someone had to say it. "A blood test still shows it, Lacey. It's right here."

"The doctor I phoned said there's nothing to test and no reason to be cruel about it."

"What doctor?"

"Dean." My mother's voice shook. "Stop."

"Mom, she can walk in that door right now."

"I will not put her through that door so you can feel clever." She stepped between us. "Are you satisfied? Is that what you wanted?"

Through the glass behind her, the receptionist had stopped typing.

Lacey leaned on my mother's arm and said, in a whisper made to carry, "It's all right. He's grieving in his own way."

I stood there with the coffees and watched my mother walk the woman who had lied to her back to the car.

She did not look at me again.

Lacey turned her head once, over the roof of the Buick, and mouthed, "Friday."

I drove to the studio with the coffees in the cupholder and the heater off.

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