Immaculate

“That’s so scary and so upsetting, Mina,” Dr. Keller said, reaching over the desk to hold my hands in hers. “I can’t begin to imagine how you feel when you read something like that.”

“It sounds crazy, but I’m almost unfazed by people like her now. But these others, the ones who seem to worship me . . . Sometimes I’m terrified, Dr. Keller. I’ve been getting all these strange letters and e-mails—begging for locks of my hair, my clothing, anything I’ve touched. They all seem so desperate—so obsessed. Obsessed. With me. It’s entirely surreal. I worry that some of them will do whatever it takes to feel close to me. To feel saved by me, blessed somehow. Which is ridiculous. I’m still only me, Dr. Keller. Only Mina. How can I save anyone? I’m just fighting to save myself.”

We sat in silence, the ticking of the clock above her desk the only sound in the room. She still held my hands tightly, which left the tears dripping down her cheeks unstopped.

“Dr. Keller,” I said, eager to make the moment feel lighter, easier again. “Dr. Keller . . . I’m sure this probably isn’t orthodox, and if you’re not comfortable with it or you’re busy, I completely understand, no pressure at all. But my mom’s having a little baby shower for me this Saturday, and I’d love it if you came. It’s nothing big, just a few friends and family, and of course you don’t have to bring me anything. Any gifts, I mean. It would just be nice to have you there. But like I said . . .”

“Mina,” she said, laughing as she let go of my hands. “You’re right. It’s not traditional for me to go to patients’ baby showers. But I want to be there. And I think for you, Mina Dietrich, I can make an exception.” She lowered her head and lifted her brows, shifting her eyes left to right. “Just don’t tell on me, okay?”

“Secret’s safe.” I gri

“Patience, Mina. Soon enough you’ll be carrying that round bump in your arms instead.”

I closed my eyes for a second and let myself really picture it—my newborn, wrapped in blankets and nestled in my arms. I could almost feel him or her, the warm weight pressing against my chest, the sweet, milky smell of baby filling my nose. “Soon enough.” I sighed, turning to wave as I reached for the door handle. “Noon on Saturday, then?”

“Noon on Saturday.”

• • •

I hadn’t wanted a shower and had adamantly insisted against one, in fact. But my mom was determined, and she made a valid point, tacky as it may have sounded: I needed whatever donations I could get. And so it was settled. I would be having a baby shower. It was a small crowd, anyway, just my aunt Vera and Lucy, Ha

I was nervous, though, despite the small guest list, and I posed and squinted in front of the mirror for a solid half hour, changing back and forth between three different maternity dresses my mom had bought for the occasion. I wanted to look casual but capable, mature but pretty in that glowing soon-to-be-mom kind of way. I finally settled on a dark green sweater dress with an empire waist that seemed to be just the right balance of subtle and showy—classy but still proud of the gigantic bump I couldn’t have hidden even if I’d wanted to.

I was still contemplating myself in the mirror when I heard a knock at the front door. I figured it was Aunt Vera, coming over early to help my mom set out the food and finish with any last-minute decorations. I didn’t pay much attention to the quiet voices down below, at least not until I heard footsteps on the stairs.

They stopped just beyond my door, and whoever it was stayed there, still and silent, hesitating. I could hear myself breathing, could almost believe that I heard them breathing, too, from across the closed door. My heart started racing, which was ridiculous, admittedly, because it was probably just my aunt, maybe Ha

I stepped back from the mirror and yanked at the knob, freezing when I saw the face, the eyes, staring back at me. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t use my lungs, my lips.

“Mina,” Izzy said. My name sounded so familiar on her lips—so normal and natural and wonderful.

“What are you doing here?” I was surprised that I did still have lips after all, and a mouth and a throat and vocal cords that functioned. One by one, piece by piece, my body started coming back to me, and I could actually feel what was happening—feel all the confused and angry and bizarrely happy sensations humming through me.

“Can we talk?” Her voice was quiet, almost shy. I studied her face, trying to relearn all the intricate details I’d missed for so long, and was surprised to see the dark circles under her red, sleepy-looking eyes.

“You want to talk now?” I took a deep breath and pressed my hands to my belly to center myself. “Today’s my baby shower, Izzy. Not now. I can’t argue with you now.”

“I’m not here to argue, Mina. I’m really not, I promise.”

“Then why are you here?” I was proud of how strong I sounded. A few months ago I would have already been fighting back tears, but Dr. Keller had been right—I had changed. I’d learned to be tough, to stand up for myself and what I believed in. I’d learned that the people who couldn’t accept us didn’t deserve my tears.

Izzy stepped farther into the room and closed the door before I could move to stop her.

“I’m here to say that I’m sorry, Meen.”

I was Meen again, not even Mina. As if nothing had changed, and we hadn’t spent nearly the last six months without each other.

“I’m sorry for so many things, I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry that I didn’t stick by you from day one like Ha

I felt stuck to the floor, like I couldn’t run to her side even if I wanted to. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. Not yet. Not that easily.

She put up her hand, wiping at her dripping eyes with the other. “I’m not done yet. That’s just part one.” She laughed, but the sound turned into more of a twisting, broken sob that knocked away at my already weakening defenses.

“I know you saw me on New Year’s Eve with Nate, and I haven’t been able to forgive myself since. I have no excuse for what I did—it was disgusting and unacceptable of me, and my only explanation is that he was really all I had at the begi