Kiersey rummaged through her clutch purse and finally came up with the Vix inhaler. She dabbed the little container of liquid on her little handkerchief and plugged a deep breath down her nostrils. The fresh heady mint smell filled her head and lungs, filtering out every other smell.
Kiersey found herself smiling like an addict inhaling drugs as she pulled in the next minty fresh breath.
Her nausea had started up again just this morning and after she'd thrown up her pancakes breakfast outside the hospital today, a pregnant stranger had advised her to get a Vix inhaler.
God bless that woman.
Tucking the Vix and the handkerchief back into her purse, she sat straighter and breathed in minted air. A redhead teenage girl and her mother came to seat beside her and she nodded her head in greeting. The two looked distraught and Kiersey wondered what could have brought them to this part of the hospital. Who needed the AI?
Or maybe they weren't mother and daughter, she thought. The resemblance didn't mean a thing. They could be cousins. Or siblings.
"Mrs Lips." The attendant that had come to get her and Rocco on Sunday appeared in front of her with his plastered smile again.
She wanted to correct him that it was soon going to be Kiersey Parrish, but thought it was unnecessary. So she stood up, smiled at the worried duo beside her and followed him.
He stopped at a door at the very end of the corridor. A gold nameplate announced the office belonged to Dr Kennedy in small block letters.
He gently pushed open the door, like he was giving the person on the other side time to be prepared. The elderly woman that had been in pink that day smiled up at her from a wingback chair.
"Mrs Lips," she said in greeting.
The guy excused himself and gently shut the door after him. Kiersey smiled nervously and sat in one of the two chairs facing the woman at the desk.
"We're deeply sorry for the mix-up, ma'am. We totally understand if you're going to take legal actions against us." The woman cast regretful glance down at the lacquered top of her desk. "We understand how our error may have affected your relationship."
Kiersey was tempted to comb a cursory glance around the room just to be certain they didn't have some hidden audience. The way the woman kept saying 'we' was rather disconcerting.
"And I hope your husband's anger has cooled off, seeing that he's not here?" She probed, her eyebrow barely lifted in question.
"Oh," said Kiersey, beaming, "I don't think so. He left. We're now divorced. Almost."
She was satisfied to see the blood drain from the woman's face. She wasn't about to let them know she was actually a little grateful for the accident.
"Good Lord," the woman muttered. "I'm so sorry to hear about that, Mrs Lips."
"It's Parrish now, actually. That's my maiden name."
"Oh." No doubt she hadn't expected the turn of events. "So, you aren't pressing charges against us . . .?"
"I just might," Kiersey replied. "You put my marriage in jeopardy after all."
The woman sighed deeply. "Alright, then. Whatever it is, we're taking full responsibilities for our mistake."
Kiersey wringed her hands in slight impatience, wondering why she had been called for. She had had to call in sick at work today to make it for the hospital appointment. The caller hadn't said much exactly, but she had a feeling it was someone serious.
"We thought you'd curious to know about the father of your baby."
"He's not the father of my baby, whoever he is," she said defiantly, anger stirring in her stomach. "He's just a sperm donor."
"Of course, I'm sorry, ma'am," the doctor said.
"I'm not sure I want to know who he is. I think I'd rather he remained anonymous. I don't want any more complications about my baby than I already have," she explained, going sober.
She couldn't begin to think of all the problems that would accompany it. She wanted to be able to truthfully tell her kid when he/she asked about the father that she didn't know who he was. God knew what would happen next when he/she found out the name. Wanting to meet him. Then she'd have to share her kid with a total stranger. Or worse, he could be married now and would openly reject her kid.
Then, what if she ran into him or heard his name somewhere around? Springfield was a big city, but you might never know. It could be online or anywhere. She'd be tempted to know a tid bit more about him. Besides, he might not be someone she approved of. People that donated their sperms to sperm clinics were either homeless and needed money into the worst kind of way or were just plain loco if they donated it for free.
But she would sure like to know about the rest of his profile. Was he a dishwater blonde like her, or a fiery red head? Was he dwarfish or had normal height? Etcetera.
"Anything but his name."
The woman sighed deeply and produced a small, blue slip of paper from one of her desk drawers. Kiersey didn't care if it bothered her she wanted nothing with the sperm donor. It was none of her business, after all.
The woman produced a pair of pink-framed reading glasses and slipped them on with one hand, clearing her throat.
"He's has dark red hair and black eyes. He was twenty eight as at the time he made the donation—"
"How many years ago was that?" Kiersey wanted to know.
The woman cleared her throat and scrutinized the paper, although Kiersey had a feeling she had read through the details before. "That was two years ago."
"You gave me a two year old sperm? How on Earth did that mix-up occur? My husb—Rocco's sperm was still fresher."
"The sperms were sorted according to surnames. I think maybe you had similar surnames or something."
"You think?" Kiersey said in disbelief. "What do you mean by 'you think'?"
The woman avoided her gaze, suddenly looking cagey. Kiersey just knew it was bad news. The feeling rose heavy from her gut.
"What is it this time?" she questioned in a squeaky voice. She could feel her tear ducts getting busy already."Mrs Lips, you must understand—""That you guys are a bunch of careless, useless crap? Just tell me what you've done wrong this time. Let me guess, there was a mix-up in the name?"The woman winced and gulped visibly, darting her brown eyes around the room, as if she felt Kiersey would attack her any minute and was searching for any form of defence."What is it?" Kiersey screamed, standing up from the chair. The woman's fidgety ways and expression was greatly pissing her off. If she kept on delaying the news anymore, she might just jump over the desk and scratch her eyes out.The elderly woman blinked and swallowed again. She wouldn't take her eyes off the sheet of paper. "The reason there was a mix-up was because the sperm sample had been tagged for discarding. We did a recent
The sun was just brightening up the afternoon when she pulled her brown BMW out of the hospital parking lot into the light traffic. She glanced at the digital clock on her dashboard and sighed.One twenty two.She had been rather been hoping to make it back to school in time for the second segment of the day after lunch break, but then, she hadn't known she was going to get some more bad news in the hospital—bad, perturbing news that would require her withgoing school for the day. On the hunt of a guy who lived on the other side of the city—and inadvertently, on the hunt of her sperm donor; her baby's daddy.She glanced at the piece of paper again. Ryan Vice. Twenty four years old. She was supposed to be looking for a Ryan Vice who lived in a trailer house in Springfield.She rubbed tiredly at her eyebrows. That was if she found him. People that lived in trailer houses didn't mean to stay in it for long, and Kiersey
She wasn't really shocked when, on getting to the trailer home, a big haired, kohl-eyed girl informed her in a monotone that no fucking Ryan lived in her home. Rather, she was just sad. It wasn't like she had expected to find Ryan Vice so easily, but confirming her suspicions still didn't hurt less.Chewing on the corner of her bottom lip, she glanced at the girl from the window of her beemer. The latter stood with her hips cocked on the extension porch and eyed her back. Kiersey swallowed the urge to roll her eyes. It seemed like she had caught her in her worst mood.She wondered if she get more 'friendly' information from the girl. She didn't look to be older than nineteen, or even eighteen and, from the torn pants and checkered top she had on, Kiersey didn't think she was well off. She wondered if she could dare offer her money for some more information. How would the girl see that?But then, she reasoned, she m
It was almost two thirty when Kiersey found herself back on the highway on her way home. She pressed a button to ease down her window and breathed in fresh air. Her hunger pangs were acting in again. After the pancakes she had thrown up this morning, what remained was the diet coke she had bought from a vending machine in the hospital and the junk from the gas station. If she had been in school, she'd have bought lunch or even made one in the staff lunchroom.She sighed and leaned back in her seat. But she was stuck trailing a nameless, faceless guy that had donated the sperm for her baby.The hospital had suggested utero testing of the foetus, it would have been easier that way to know without running around looking for the guy. But that also came with the risk of miscarriage and that was a risk Kiersey was most definitely not about to take.Ryan Vice was definitely in Cali. She was going to have to take days off
She took her finger off the indicator and stepped on the gas, going after the black car.As she zoomed after the car, the absurdity of the what she was doing struck her. She wasn't even sure if it was him. A cream sedan car had slid behind the Mustang, obstructing her view of the number plates.What even if it was him? she thought. What would she do? She had nothing with him and was even relieved to not be with him anymore. They were due for divorce mediation next week and then wouldn't have to see each other again for the rest of their lives. So why was she about to make her presence known?Yeah, he had lied about his whereabouts (if the Mustang was him at all), but that didn't mean a thing, did it? She couldn't care less if he had gone to Antarctica, or still lived somewhere in Illinois.So why was she on the chase after his car? she questioned herself again.
She struggled hard to fight it. She knew was was happening to her. Her disordered senses had probably decided it had had enough and was shutting down—she was going to black out. So she struggled hard to fight it. To push back the darkness that was steadily creeping towards her, shutting down everything in it's wake."No," she mouthed.She was aware of the strong, warm arms around her slowly lowering her into a warm cushion. Then she was aware of his face looking down at her in worry, it was the only thing in focus.He's probably going to call 911, she thought. Or the police. She had destroyed his car after all.Oh, the car.She remembered the fender bender and tried to shake her head. When had things gone from plowing into a car to fainting? She wasn't fatally wounded and dying, was she?Still confused, she struggled to grasp the reins of her world. She
One would think life would cut her some slack after the whole kerfuffle of the afternoon, but then it turned out it wasn't quite done with her yet. She barely trudged her way out of the elevator to her apartment when her phone started to ring. It was Kevyn, and of all times to call.She swiped her keycard and stepped in, immediately toeing off her flats. Then she found the nearest sofa and sank into it. She so very much wanted a cool, aromatherapic bath right now, but she didn't see how she could possibly postpone Kevyn's call. Her brother had a record for being paranoid, especially when it came to matters concerning her.So, sighing heavily, she swiped the call to pick."Key," said Kevyn in greeting. "Are you okay?"Kiersey was even too tired to roll her eyes up. "Come on, you can do better than that. And what makes you think I'm not, kiddo?"She could just imagine her brother r
The next day, she was fine enough to take two classes before the long break at which she had to go see the principal.From the call to her travel agent early in the morning, she had found out the most convenient time to travel to California was tomorrow. Unexpected, but she didn't have much of a choice.The old bastard of a principal was grumpy as usual and failed to see how a teacher in his school could have, err. . . familial matters so important as to take the rest of the school week off, albeit it was just a day before the weekend.She even had to pull the expecting mother card before the tough jerky finally agreed to let her have the rest of the day and the rest of the week off.It just happened to be around the time scheduled to pick up her car at the garage, so she took a Uber to the place.The garage was named 'The Zeunt Fix' and was an old but neat out-building that was