They rode in silence, the only sound the steady hum of the tires on pavement, punctuated regularly by the seams in the road. Minutes ticked by without the headlights of another car growing in the windshield.
Eventually, she had enough. “Steve, where are we going? I’m hungry.” She turned toward him, a pleading look on her face.
“It’s a surprise, Sue. You’ll see when we get there.” He kept his eyes on the road, dismissing her complaint without even addressing it.
She threw herself back in the seat, crossing her arms and drawing a foot up. Dinner should have been hours ago.
“I don’t even like surprises,” she grumbled.
Steve rolled his eyes. As he’d predicted, she was snoring in less than fifteen minutes. She didn’t move a muscle when he slowed the car and pulled into a driveway.
The house loomed blackly above him as he got out, carefully closing the door so as not to wake his passenger. One last glance to make sure that she was still snoozing, and he trotted around the side of the house and hopped in his buddy’s truck, leaving poor Sue to wake hours later, cold and alone in the echoing dawn.
Remember the girl who was left behind? Let’s find out what she’s been up to lately.
It had been a long, dusty day traipsing along the side of this highway in the middle of nowhere. Her whistle had long since petered out. Perhaps it was time to take an inventory of her situation, she thought.
Yes. That was probably best.
A patch of shorter grass was just up ahead, and when she reached it, she plopped down on her behind to go through her pockets. She smoothed the grass even smoother and began laying out her life.
Her right front pocket was empty.
The first thing she pulled from her left front pocket was a particularly round rock that she had just picked up, maybe five minutes earlier. She inspected it anew, twisting and turning it to check for any more appealing attributes that she may or may not have noticed the first time she picked it up. It appeared to be the same. She placed the rock on the smooth spot that she’d made.
Next up was a Dentyne gum wrapper, sans Dentyne. Normally, she recalled, she jammed the gum wrappers into the crevice of the back seat of her (former) parents’ car, but for some reason, she had kept this one. She shook her head, unable to recall any sentimental value for this particular wrapper. Next to the rock it went, just in case the reason she’d kept it came back to her.
Underneath the gum wrapper, she discovered seventy-eight cents in various coin denominations. She stacked them in order of increasing diameter, and checked her back pockets.
Her left pocket was as empty as the right front, not even occupied by a stray chunk of denim lint, but her right pocket was slightly more lucrative. She smiled as she read over the grocery list that she had swiped from her (former) mother three days earlier. The woman had searched and searched for that list, and never suspected her darling little girl had possession of it.
She sighed at the memory, knowing that at the moment, she was no one’s darling little girl. It was time for that to change. She gathered her small pile of belongings up and carefully replaced them in her pockets before standing up and stretching.
She arched her back and decided that it was time to come to terms with her new situation.
“New parents, here I come! Get ready for your darling little Frannie to come home,” she called to the vast prairie stretching before her.
And she set off walking again, whistling with renewed vigor.
They were gone, and she didn’t think they were coming back. Her parents, that is. They’d pulled over on the side of the road for her to go potty, and while she was tugging her pants back up, she heard whispering and then felt a dozen tiny nicks from the gravel on her skin, kicked up by the tires as they sped off.
But she didn’t really care. They were just parents. Plenty more where that came from, right? Still, it was a bit of a downer to lose her fruit punch that she hadn’t quite finished drinking. That annoyance was what caused her to put her hands on her hips.
After a minute, she huffed and started walking. Soon enough, a small red car pulled over and a concerned woman rolled down the passenger side window to ask if she was lost.
“No ma’am,” she politely answered. “I’m not lost, but I am in need of some new parents. Do you know anyone on the market?”
The woman was taken aback. She’d never been spoken to in such a way by a child. The sense of it fell a bit outside of her experience.
“It’s okay,” the girl said, when she didn’t receive a response to her query. “I’ll keep looking. Have a nice day!” And she continued walking.
The woman was even more confused. Had she just been dismissed by a kindergartner? She shook her head and went about her business. Someone else could clean up that mess. She gave the girl a wide berth as she pulled her car back onto the road.
The girl whistled as she continued on. It was a newly acquired skill, and she hadn’t quite got the hang of keeping in tune yet.
After a two hour ordeal last Tuesday afternoon involving lengthy hold times, hangups (guess they got tired of the ringing), and wrong extensions, my HSG is scheduled for Tuesday morning.
Then Wednesday I got an email that I had new information on MyChart. I’m loving that I can access my appointments online and get automatic emails anytime there’s a change, because who knows how long it would have been before I found out that they’re closing the infertility clinic and canceling my appointment. Yeah, the October 5th appointment that should have been last September.
I now have an appointment October 22 at the new ‘problem clinic.’ Serious WTFs going on here. I spent a while going around in circles with the receptionist, who finally gave up on me calming down and transferred me to the same dead end voice mailbox that I’ve left dozens of messages in and never received a callback.
I went to bed and cried for an hour.
Ian made some phone calls, and the office of the RE who abandoned all his patients last year has a couple of new doctors. So it looks like I’m going to be getting a part time job at McDonald’s, because they offer insurance to their hourly employees that covers 82% of infertility treatments, including IVF and medications. Apparently a goodly number of their patients work at McD’s for the insurance. Thanks, nice office lady, for the info!
Such a brief summation, that doesn’t begin to touch on the depression hell I have been trapped in the past few days. Maybe I can write about that later.