lustrous, dark hair… In that way, you’re very much like her.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, somewhat embarrassed by the compliment. “But you must have seen thousands of patients over the years. How is that you remember her after all this time?”
Suddenly my host’s demeanor changed, becoming more somber. “Are you sure you want to know about this?” she asked. “You’re not going to like what you hear.”
I swallowed and nodded. “It’s fine. Just tell me.”
Mrs. Gutierrez let out a deep breath, then looked down at her hands for a moment, as if what she was about to say pained her. “Over the years, I’ve seen countless expectant mothers – even been one myself – and one thing almost all of them have in common is an all-encompassing love for their child. There’s almost nothing they won’t do for the baby they’re carrying. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I saw a pregnant woman who expressed anything
less
than undying affection for her baby. But Mary Jones? She was in a class by herself.”
“Go on,” I said, knowing exactly what I was about to hear.
“Mary acted like she hated that baby. She had no qualms about mentioning how she wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. And she would say it in a matter-of-fact tone, like she was simply commenting on the weather.”
I blinked, trying to find something to soften the blow of the words I was hearing. “Maybe…maybe it had something to do with the father. Maybe he abandoned her, or…”
Mrs. Gutierrez shrugged. “Maybe, but I don’t think so. She mentioned him once or twice, stating how she dreaded having to tell him that she’d felt the baby move or things of that nature, because then he’d get all sentimental. Truth be told, it sounded like she despised him almost as much as she detested the baby and reviled being pregnant.”
“So why’d she even bother with prenatal care if that’s how she felt?”
“I don’t know, but it seemed like she used the office visits – the things she learned when she came in – as a way to try to
harm
the baby.”
My brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not anything I could ever prove, but just little things that happened. Take the Gross Meta recall, for example. There was a recall of prena–”
“I know about Gross Meta,” I said, cutting her off.
“Well, we told Mary about the recall – about the danger of excess Vitamin A. But when she came in for her next visit, her vitamin levels were even higher. It was as if, once she found out it could harm the baby, she doubled down on the dosage she took.”
I was having trouble concentrating. This wasn’t anything at all like I expected to hear. I mean, I’d always understood there was a possibility that my birth mother had willingly given me up for adoption or something. But learning that she may have tried to kill me in the womb? It was too much.
I licked my lips, trying to focus on my next question. “What, uh, what happened to her?”
Mrs. Gutierrez shrugged. “Don’t know. We got to her final trimester – at which point she would have started coming in every two weeks instead of every month, like before – and she just vanished. Never showed up again. When we tried to call her, we discovered that the phone number that we had for her was disconnected, and she didn’t respond to any of the letters we sent to her address after that. We just assumed that she simply moved away.”
I nodded in understanding, but something about what she’d just said was tickling my brain. Then it came to me.
“A moment ago, you mentioned that Mary Jones didn’t respond to your letters ‘after that,’” I said. “Was she responding to mail –
postal
mail – that you sent her
before
she vanished?”
Mrs. Gutierrez seemed to reflect for a moment before answering. “If I remember correctly, yes. I think there were a couple of times we sent her some forms to complete and she’d always show up with
“Thank you,” I mumbled, somewhat embarrassed by the compliment. “But you must have seen thousands of patients over the years. How is that you remember her after all this time?”
Suddenly my host’s demeanor changed, becoming more somber. “Are you sure you want to know about this?” she asked. “You’re not going to like what you hear.”
I swallowed and nodded. “It’s fine. Just tell me.”
Mrs. Gutierrez let out a deep breath, then looked down at her hands for a moment, as if what she was about to say pained her. “Over the years, I’ve seen countless expectant mothers – even been one myself – and one thing almost all of them have in common is an all-encompassing love for their child. There’s almost nothing they won’t do for the baby they’re carrying. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I saw a pregnant woman who expressed anything
less
than undying affection for her baby. But Mary Jones? She was in a class by herself.”
“Go on,” I said, knowing exactly what I was about to hear.
“Mary acted like she hated that baby. She had no qualms about mentioning how she wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. And she would say it in a matter-of-fact tone, like she was simply commenting on the weather.”
I blinked, trying to find something to soften the blow of the words I was hearing. “Maybe…maybe it had something to do with the father. Maybe he abandoned her, or…”
Mrs. Gutierrez shrugged. “Maybe, but I don’t think so. She mentioned him once or twice, stating how she dreaded having to tell him that she’d felt the baby move or things of that nature, because then he’d get all sentimental. Truth be told, it sounded like she despised him almost as much as she detested the baby and reviled being pregnant.”
“So why’d she even bother with prenatal care if that’s how she felt?”
“I don’t know, but it seemed like she used the office visits – the things she learned when she came in – as a way to try to
harm
the baby.”
My brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not anything I could ever prove, but just little things that happened. Take the Gross Meta recall, for example. There was a recall of prena–”
“I know about Gross Meta,” I said, cutting her off.
“Well, we told Mary about the recall – about the danger of excess Vitamin A. But when she came in for her next visit, her vitamin levels were even higher. It was as if, once she found out it could harm the baby, she doubled down on the dosage she took.”
I was having trouble concentrating. This wasn’t anything at all like I expected to hear. I mean, I’d always understood there was a possibility that my birth mother had willingly given me up for adoption or something. But learning that she may have tried to kill me in the womb? It was too much.
I licked my lips, trying to focus on my next question. “What, uh, what happened to her?”
Mrs. Gutierrez shrugged. “Don’t know. We got to her final trimester – at which point she would have started coming in every two weeks instead of every month, like before – and she just vanished. Never showed up again. When we tried to call her, we discovered that the phone number that we had for her was disconnected, and she didn’t respond to any of the letters we sent to her address after that. We just assumed that she simply moved away.”
I nodded in understanding, but something about what she’d just said was tickling my brain. Then it came to me.
“A moment ago, you mentioned that Mary Jones didn’t respond to your letters ‘after that,’” I said. “Was she responding to mail –
postal
mail – that you sent her
before
she vanished?”
Mrs. Gutierrez seemed to reflect for a moment before answering. “If I remember correctly, yes. I think there were a couple of times we sent her some forms to complete and she’d always show up with
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