Yesterday, my hospital visit was supposed to be a doctor’s appointment.
When I woke up and saw the dark, heavy clouds rolling in, I looked at James, who was sitting on the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone.
“It looks like a storm is coming. Drive me to the hospital, will you?”
Silence.
I assumed he had turned his hearing aid off again. But when I looked closer, the little indicator light was on. He was just too engrossed in his text messages to acknowledge I had spoken.
I snatched the phone out of his hands.
On the screen, a contact saved as [Princess Chloe] was begging him to come to her pajama party tonight.
Knowing James absolutely despised loud, chaotic environments, I typed a reply for him:[Not going.]
James lunged, snatched the phone back, and frantically deleted the message.
“I told you to drive me to the hospital for my checkup,” I repeated.
“When?” he asked, not looking up.
“This afternoon.”
He tapped furiously on his screen. No response.
Just as my temper began to flare, James suddenly chuckled and held the phone up to my face. “Chloe says she invited a bunch of our old college friends over. She wants us to head to her place for lunch. I’ll take you to the hospital after we eat.”
But at the lunch table, Chloe sweet-talked James into doing shots. Glass after glass.
Watching them made my stomach turn. I barely touched my food before standing up and announcing I needed to get to the hospital.
“Just reschedule the checkup,” James slurred slightly. “I’ll take you in a few days.”
He had no idea how hard it was to get these appointments.
“No,” I said flatly.
He offered to call me a cab. I declined. He nodded and told me to be careful on the way. Not a single person at that table offered to even walk me to the front gate of the neighborhood.
I walked with my umbrella tilted against the wind, the slanted rain soaking my pants all the way up to my knees. It took me forever just to find the main exit.
And then, as if the universe was mocking me, the traffic was gridlocked. I missed my appointment slot and had to wait as a walk-in.
Right next door, the women’s health center’s waiting room was completely empty.
I eventually wandered over, sat down in the quiet, and stared up at the sign reading [Women’s Health Services], lost in thought.
By the time evening rolled around, James hadn’t called. Usually, if I was out this late, my phone would be ringing off the hook. Today, nothing.
I actually thought my phone was broken. But when I unlocked it, the first thing I saw was James’s new Instagram Story.
He was at the pajama party. Chloe was wearing a flimsy little camisole, her slender arms wrapped tightly around his neck. His hand rested completely naturally on her waist.
I zoomed in on the photo.
His wedding ring was gone.
I dialed his number. Chloe picked up. She scoffed, telling me I was being annoying and ruining the vibe.
I only asked one question, “Where is James’s ring?”
“Oh, he let me play with it for a bit,” she paused, feigning innocence. “I think it fell into the sofa cushions. I don’t know, I’ll look for it after everyone leaves.”
She hung up on me.
Down the hall, a nurse was calling my name.
“Emily? Is Emily here?”
I took two steps toward the prenatal wing, then stopped.
I turned around.
“Do I need an appointment for the procedure?” I asked the front desk.
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. Sign me up.”
