Sophie left the apartment building and stepped outside. It was
only midafternoon, and already the overcast sky shed a dark
gloom over the city. The automatic streetlights were turning on.
She pulled out her phone. Adam hadn’t left a message. She tex
ted, What’s up? and put her phone away. She pulled her collar up
tighter around her neck and headed back to the hospital.
Two minutes into her walk, she sensed it. She glanced back
behind her. The crowd was going about their New York City
business, talking on their phones, walking with their heads down
and earbuds in, everybody in their own little world. There was
nothing out of the ordinary. She turned north on Second Ave
nue, a direction that took her away from the hospital. When she
looked behind her again, she noticed a hooded brown ski parka.
She’d seen that hood when she left Rihanna’s.
She next turned west on Fifty-Second Street, then north
again on Lexington, then east on Fifty-Fourth, making her route
back to the hospital a zigzag. She casually turned to look over her
shoulder and saw him in a crowd of people half a block behind
her. Why was this guy following her?
As she quickened her pace, she tightened her hold on the
shoulder strap of her purse. Brown hoodie must have quickened his
pace too, because he was getting closer. She could hear him behind
her; the ice on the sidewalk crunched under his uneven steps.
She had to do something. There were enough people on the
sidewalk to give her a fairly good sense of safety. She checked her
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JULIE HATCH
grip on the strap and reeled around, ready to club the guy with
her pocketbook. Instead, she slipped. Her arms windmilled in the
air as she fought to keep her balance. Her pocketbook flew out of
her hand. His fist landed a hard blow to her stomach. Shocked,
she felt the force of his punch knock the wind out of her. Sophie
doubled over, gasping, and dropped to her knees. She couldn’t
breathe.
Fighting for a breath, she tried to yell after the brown hoodie.
“Bastard!” All she could manage was a whisper. He’d already dis
appeared up the block. A passerby stopped to ask if she was okay.
He helped her up and offered to call her a cab.
“No, I’m fine.” It hurt to take a deep breath. “Did you happen
to see the person who punched me?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. Do you want to call the police?”
“No, the guy’s gone, and I wouldn’t be able to describe him
anyway,” she said softly. Speaking took effort.
Sophie walked slowly back to the hospital, bent over with
her hands holding her belly. She felt a gush of something warm
between her legs
