The Lies We Told by Diane Chamberlain Read Free Book Online Page A

when every other woman on earth can have as many kids as she likes?”
    “That’s bullshit. You have plenty of company and you know it. Please stop beating yourself up over this.”
    “Every single one of my friends has kids now,” I said. “I’m cut off from all of them. I buy them baby gifts. I try to keep up the friendships and I know they try, too, but it’s impossible. They have nothing in common with me anymore. They pity me.”
    “Right now, you’re pitying yourself,” he said.
    “Well, so what?” I snapped, hurt. “When do I ever pity myself? Let me have five minutes of self-pity, okay?”
    We never argued. Never. Yet this felt strangely good and necessary. Cleansing, in a way. But when we came to a stoplight and I glanced over at him, I saw how tired he looked. I saw the lines that creased his forehead. The pink cast to the whites of his eyes. This was not only my loss.
    I reached over. Rested my hand on his biceps. “Adam,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s all right, My,” he said with a sigh. “We’ll get through it.”
     
    Adam tucked me into our king-size bed and handed me an ibuprofen and a glass of water. I swallowed the pill, then sank back into the bed. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I know this has been much harder on you than I can even imagine,” he whispered. “I know that, and I love you.”
    “I love you, too,” I said. I opened my mouth to say more, although I wasn’t sure what words I expected to come out, but he pressed his fingers lightly to my lips.
    “Get some sleep,” he said.
     
    I was asleep before he had even left the room, and in my dreams, I saw Frannie sitting in her wheelchair, smiling at Adam.
    I have eighteen children now, Adam, she said. Too bad you didn’t stay married to me.

6
Maya
    T WO DAYS LATER , A DAM AND I SAT ACROSS THE DESK FROM MY obstetrician, Elaine, in her office. I much preferred being on the other side of that desk, talking to my patients. Educating them. Reassuring them. But my fight for a baby had put me on this uncomfortable side of the desk now more times than I could count.
    Elaine thumbed through my chart where it rested on the desk in front of her. She settled on a page, running her finger down it, stopping at the midway point.
    “I noticed something during the D and C that made me curious,” she said, “and I see that you didn’t answer this question on your health sheet when you filled it out a couple of years ago.”
    “What question?” I asked.
    “Did you ever have an abortion?” Elaine looked at me over her reading glasses.
    I hesitated. I hadn’t been asked that question before, at least not in front of Adam.
    “No,” Adam answered for me, and for a moment, I let the answer hang in the room between the three of us.
    “Why?” I asked Elaine.
    “Well, there’s some scarring in your uterus that looks like what we might see, on a very rare occasion, from an abortion. Scarring can cause difficulty with conception and especially with holding on to a pregnancy. But since you’ve never had an abortion, that’s clearly not the prob—”
    “I have.” I cut her off. “I had an abortion.”
    “What?” Adam leaned away from me in his chair as though I’d burned him. “When?”
    “When I was a teenager.” I looked at Elaine, but could feel Adam’s startled gaze resting squarely on my face.
    “Were there any complications?” she asked. “An infection?”
    I remembered pain that went on and on. Pain I’d ignored. I’d had more pressing things on my mind. “I don’t think so,” I said. “I had what might have been excessive pain, but I was too young to question any symptoms.” I would never tell them how young. Fourteen years old. My father had taken me to the clinic, and I remembered the drive home, even though I’d done my best to block all memories of that day from my mind. Daddy had been so quiet in the car. So quiet that I was afraid he no longer loved me. Finally, when we neared our