get here already.
A woman the size of a cow totters into the waiting room and plops into the large rocking chair across from me. She picks up my children’s book and begins to read it. I’m flattered and can’t help smiling. Yet, another soon-to-be mother who will be reading my story to her little one. She gets to the last page and flings it back on the table.
“What did you think?” I ask, debating whether I should tell her I wrote it.
She shakes her head and makes a disgusted face. “An appalling story!”
“What do you mean?” I say, shocked. That hurt!
“The Evil Queen didn’t deserved to live happily ever after.” Her voice grows more contemptuous. “Evil shouldn’t be rewarded in our society. It sends a bad message to our children.”
What! She’s missed the entire point of my fable. Life can be rewritten, and everyone has a chance at happily ever after. I want to scream out and tell her that hundreds of women have written me letters, thanking me for giving them hope. And for at last putting a kibosh on that evil stepmother myth. I want to give this bitch a piece of my mind. My mouth opens wide on the verge of a tirade, but only one word comes out. “Whatever.” It’s not worth the effort to defend my book. She’s probably too stupid and pigheaded to get it. I’ve also made up my mind. I’m not telling her I’m the author.
The woman folds her pudgy hands on top of her ballooning belly and gives me the once over. I’m hating her more by the minute. “So, what are you doing here?” Her tone is snarky. “You don’t look pregnant.”
I clench my fists. “I’m trying to have a baby.”
She smiles at me smugly. “I’m having multiples.”
No wonder she’s the size of a cow! Okay, I admit, I’m a little jealous, but I’d kill myself if I ever got that fat.
“They’re very active.” She rubs her humongous belly. “I can feel one kicking right now.”
“That’s nice,” I say coolly. I just want to punch her.
“Dr. Grimm thinks I’m having twelve dancing princesses.”
The wall clock spares me from having to say another word to this peasant. “CUCKOO!” says the little birdie twelve times. It’s noon. Time for our appointment. Where the hell is Gallant?
Dr. Grimm teeters into the waiting room. He’s wearing a long white coat and a tall cone-shaped white cap that sits just above his rimless spectacles. His white flyaway hair sticks out on the sides, and his white beard falls to his chest. To be honest, he looks more like a sorcerer than a doctor.
“My dear Jane, let’s see how we’re doing in the baby department,” he says warmly.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Gallant?” I ask tentatively.
Dr. Grimm wraps an arm around my shoulders and escorts me into his office. “No need, my dear. He messengered over a note saying he couldn’t make it.”
What! He’s not coming? I thought having a baby was the most important thing in the world to him. He’s even the one who forced me to see Dr. Grimm to help us along. He’s never missed an appointment! Ever!
“Did Gallant say what he was doing?” I ask nervously.
“He said he had an emergency meeting.”
My breath catches in my throat, and every muscle in my body tightens. “ We’ve been meeting.” Gallant’s words from the other night ring in my head.
I was wrong. Dead wrong. Gallant’s affair with Aurora is far from over. He can’t resist her! He’s still sleeping with the beauty!
Dr. Grimm’s small office looks like it does belong to a sorcerer. Or an evil mad scientist. There are large flasks of candle-warmed bubbling potions, test tubes dangling from wires, and frighteningly complicated arrays of dials, controls, and strange gurgling apparatus. On one wall is a library of books dealing with magic spells, chants, diets, and other bizarre fertility aids. On another is a shelf filled with neatly labeled bottles. Like evening primrose, birthing stones, and sparkling crystals. Magic fertility enhancers.
What
A woman the size of a cow totters into the waiting room and plops into the large rocking chair across from me. She picks up my children’s book and begins to read it. I’m flattered and can’t help smiling. Yet, another soon-to-be mother who will be reading my story to her little one. She gets to the last page and flings it back on the table.
“What did you think?” I ask, debating whether I should tell her I wrote it.
She shakes her head and makes a disgusted face. “An appalling story!”
“What do you mean?” I say, shocked. That hurt!
“The Evil Queen didn’t deserved to live happily ever after.” Her voice grows more contemptuous. “Evil shouldn’t be rewarded in our society. It sends a bad message to our children.”
What! She’s missed the entire point of my fable. Life can be rewritten, and everyone has a chance at happily ever after. I want to scream out and tell her that hundreds of women have written me letters, thanking me for giving them hope. And for at last putting a kibosh on that evil stepmother myth. I want to give this bitch a piece of my mind. My mouth opens wide on the verge of a tirade, but only one word comes out. “Whatever.” It’s not worth the effort to defend my book. She’s probably too stupid and pigheaded to get it. I’ve also made up my mind. I’m not telling her I’m the author.
The woman folds her pudgy hands on top of her ballooning belly and gives me the once over. I’m hating her more by the minute. “So, what are you doing here?” Her tone is snarky. “You don’t look pregnant.”
I clench my fists. “I’m trying to have a baby.”
She smiles at me smugly. “I’m having multiples.”
No wonder she’s the size of a cow! Okay, I admit, I’m a little jealous, but I’d kill myself if I ever got that fat.
“They’re very active.” She rubs her humongous belly. “I can feel one kicking right now.”
“That’s nice,” I say coolly. I just want to punch her.
“Dr. Grimm thinks I’m having twelve dancing princesses.”
The wall clock spares me from having to say another word to this peasant. “CUCKOO!” says the little birdie twelve times. It’s noon. Time for our appointment. Where the hell is Gallant?
Dr. Grimm teeters into the waiting room. He’s wearing a long white coat and a tall cone-shaped white cap that sits just above his rimless spectacles. His white flyaway hair sticks out on the sides, and his white beard falls to his chest. To be honest, he looks more like a sorcerer than a doctor.
“My dear Jane, let’s see how we’re doing in the baby department,” he says warmly.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Gallant?” I ask tentatively.
Dr. Grimm wraps an arm around my shoulders and escorts me into his office. “No need, my dear. He messengered over a note saying he couldn’t make it.”
What! He’s not coming? I thought having a baby was the most important thing in the world to him. He’s even the one who forced me to see Dr. Grimm to help us along. He’s never missed an appointment! Ever!
“Did Gallant say what he was doing?” I ask nervously.
“He said he had an emergency meeting.”
My breath catches in my throat, and every muscle in my body tightens. “ We’ve been meeting.” Gallant’s words from the other night ring in my head.
I was wrong. Dead wrong. Gallant’s affair with Aurora is far from over. He can’t resist her! He’s still sleeping with the beauty!
Dr. Grimm’s small office looks like it does belong to a sorcerer. Or an evil mad scientist. There are large flasks of candle-warmed bubbling potions, test tubes dangling from wires, and frighteningly complicated arrays of dials, controls, and strange gurgling apparatus. On one wall is a library of books dealing with magic spells, chants, diets, and other bizarre fertility aids. On another is a shelf filled with neatly labeled bottles. Like evening primrose, birthing stones, and sparkling crystals. Magic fertility enhancers.
What
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