93-Civil Disobedience

**PIPPA**

The sterile room is cheerfully decorated. It puts me at ease right away. Colorful, hand-drawn stencils, depicting children in Central Park, adorn the wall in gold metal frames. The examination table I am on is an eye-catching teal blue.

It is so comfortable, I feel as if I am lying on a cloud. My gown, a lovely shade of light pink, is as soft as lamb’s wool. Same with the disposable slippers on my feet.

Dr. Chopra comes in, brightening the room and my mood even further. If I could bottle her aura, I would be as rich as Xaver.

“So, how are we feeling today?”

It’s not quite official, but even she knows I am now a ‘we.’

“Feeling fine,” is my answer. And I am. Whatever the outcome. I am keeping this child, come hell or high water. My child will have me to rely on and if his or her father wants to take part in their lives, I won’t stop him.

Dr. Chopra turns on the ultrasound machine and goes to the sink to wash her hands.

She is terrific. I would love her to be my OBGYN, but Fifth Avenue prices are not within my budget.

“So… are you ready to find out?”

I nod. This is it.

Jelly on my belly. I shiver, more from nerves than cold.

The image on the screen is nothing my eyes can make out… and then… there is *something.*

“Looks like you have got more than you bargained for,” Dr. Chopra says, beaming at me.

Two peas in a pod.

I’m having twins.

****

Kat grabs me as soon as I round the divider. She pulls me into a corner, her eyes popping out of her skull. “Where have you been, Pippa?”

I scramble to come up with a plausible excuse. “Uh, I went out—”

“Never mind,” she cuts me off, her impatience leaking out like water from a broken tap. “You missed it!”

“What are you talking about?” A nervous sweat breaks out under my arms, and a tension creeps into my chest.

Kat giggles with excitement from behind her hand. Her shoulders rise to the back of her skull.

“Mr. Sayle fired Mr. Farkas!”

“What?!” I shout, my nerves getting the better of me.

Kat swivels her head in surprise, and I lower my tone, digging deep within myself for as much disinterest as I can muster. “I mean… why would he?”

Kat looks at me slyly, like she knows something… juicy. She doesn’t share. Instead, she says, “Not sure, but I heard shouting, and when Craig left, he jerked the door open so hard it hit the wall. *BANG!*” Kat claps her hands together and I jump at the sound.

“Mr. Sayle came out a second later, cool as you please, and told me, ‘Call down to IT and have them suspend all of Mr. Farkas’ accounts. Including his company credit cards.’ Can you believe it, Pippa? I am still in shock.” Kat, silently laughing and clutching her sides, looks anything but.

“How long ago?”

“Right after you left.” Kat shakes her head. “Whole damn building probably knows by now.”

I shrug, a gesture that belies the way my stomach thrashes like palm trees in hurricane force winds.

“I had better see if he needs anything.” Right after I get rid of the lump in my stomach. Kat’s news has me nauseous.

“I’m going down to IT. I want to make sure they are following up on things.”

I force a laugh from my throat and nearly choke on it. “You just want to see Mike.”

“You’ve got *that* right,” Kat says, giving me a queenly wave goodbye.

***

I flush the toilet. The remnants of my half-digested hotdog, heads toward oblivion. I wash my hands then brush my teeth with the toothbrush and mini toothpaste I keep in my desk drawer for times such as these.

Rinsing the foam from the bowl of the sink, I watch the water swirling at the bottom before disappearing down the drain.

The door opens and I snap to attention.

Julia comes in, crying. Snot has mixed with her running mascara to make gelatinous blobs on her face.

I hand her a wad of tissues, freshly plucked from the box on the vanity tray.

Julia seems taken aback by the gesture until her eyes focus and she sees that it’s me. The one person in the building who has never given her a hard time.

“Thank you, Pippa,” Julia says, blowing out her grief.

Eyeing herself in the mirror, she frowns at her reflection.

I wet a paper towel and hand it to her. Julia grimaces back her gratitude. She wipes away the smudges with one eye on me, the other on her task. “I guess you heard.”

I nod, not knowing what to say.

“Two years down the drain, and for what? The fucking bastard!” She throws the used tissues in the trash can with enough force to make the opaque plastic bag crinkle. “I picked up his dry cleaning, babysat his brats, brought him his coffee and even shined his damn shoes. Got shoe polish all over my Chanel dress once.”

I mumble something sympathetic as she continues, warming up to her tirade. “You know what he was like.” Her eyes catch mine. Try as I might, I can’t look away from such destruction. “You worked for him while I was on holiday, right?”

Sure did. I went through two weeks of hell while Xaver was in Japan. How could she stand two* years* of it? I guess she had the benefit of the man himself.

Some prize.

Julia snatches more paper towels, wets them, and eviscerates her makeup. She swipes at her face so hard; I expect to see deep gouges in her flawless complexion.

Still, she talks all the while, spilling secrets I have no right to hear.

“‘You stick with me, baby girl—we are going places. My wife means nothing, Julia. You are the one I want.’ That’s what Craig told me. Nothing but lies. All bullshit. All lies.” She grips the counter top, white knuckling it in her fury. Her mouth balls like the tissues she has thrown away.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” What else can I say? She has made her bed. It is too bad she got the short end of the stick.

“The bastard!” Her fists come down on the granite, hard. She then rounds on me so fast, I have a stepfather flashback.

My eyes strain in my head. I can’t move away from her fast enough.

“I’ve kept all his secrets. You know?” Her mouth lifts into a maniac’s grin. Her eyes are devoid of reason. “I know that he has someone else besides his wife and me. I also know he has had me buy her all sorts of stuff, pretending it is for his wife.”

Julia stalks towards me and my back hits the wall. My hands entwine in anxiety. She is so close I can smell the chili she had for lunch.

“Before I go… I will impart a little tidbit of information I am sure your boss doesn’t know…” She draws a deep breath and blows out Xaver’s business like it is her own to tell. “Craig Fathead Farkas was fucking Xaver’s fiancée, and it was *his* baby she was carrying when she died.”