Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

 

“Thanks for coming with me,” I whisper, filling out a ream of paperwork at the physician’s office. Usually Mom completes all the forms, but I told her I could take care of it myself. It’s like they want to document my entire life story. I’m ten minutes away from a carpal tunnel diagnosis.

“No problem.” Everly says, scrolling through her Insta. “It’s not like I had anything else to do. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I don’t exactly have a social life here in Hawthorne.”

“Do you miss New York?” I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I haven’t even thought to ask. It wasn’t all that long ago I was in her shoes. The town of Hawthorne isn’t an easy place to fit in. And the prep school is even less so.

“Kind of.” She shrugs, eyes growing distant. “We lived on the Upper East Side, so there was always a ton of stuff going on.”

I know what she means. It was the same in Chicago. There were museums, malls, movie theaters, major league sporting events, and concerts. We were constantly on the go. I have no idea what people do in Hawthorne for fun.

Tip cows?

Party in a cornfield?

It remains a mystery.

By the time I sign the last page, my hand is cramping up. I shake it out before taking the clipboard to the front desk.

The receptionist shifts the sliding glass partition and gives the documents a cursory glance before flashing a smile. “Great. They’ll call you back shortly.”

With a nod, I return to the chair I’ve been camped out in. After ten minutes of fidgeting, a door opens to the inner sanctum and a woman in scrubs glances at the chart in her hand before calling out my name.

I pop to my feet, more than ready to get this over with. “Hi.”

“Good afternoon, Summer. I’m Colleen, one of the doctor’s nurses. I’ll get you started.”

She holds the door open for me before stopping at a scale. “Let’s check your weight.”

I step on the metal contraption and am surprised to discover that I’ve lost ten pounds since I moved to Hawthorne. I had suspected it would be a few, but that seems excessive. The nurse jots down the number and then we’re moving through a long narrow hallway dotted with college and medical school diplomas.

“We’ll be going to room eight,” she says as we pass by a cluster of desks.

Once inside the compact space, she takes my blood pressure and temperature. So far, everything is normal. She settles at a tiny desk with a laptop and types in the information before glancing at me. “So, tell me what brings you in today.”

“Um,” my gaze skitters away as embarrassment licks at my cheeks, “I’m interested in birth control. Maybe the pill?”

“All right.” She types in a few more things. “The doctor will go over all of your options after the exam.”

I jerk my head and blow out a steady breath. I’ve never been to an OB-GYN. There was never a reason. Now there is. I’m not exactly sure what to expect, and that sends anxiety spiraling through me.

“What was the first day of your last menstruation?”

Hmmm, good question. I should probably know the answer to that. My brow creases as I mentally trip over the previous month. The days and weeks have blended together to become more of a blur. A prickle of unease grows in the pit of my belly. My periods have always been unpredictable. From what I’ve read online, the pill can help regulate that.

“Um, I’m not sure.”

“Give me your best guess.”

I shake my head and throw out a number that seems plausible. “Maybe five weeks ago.”

“Okay. The first thing we’ll do is a urinalysis. There’s a bathroom across the hall. The sample bottles are already in the room. Use the Sharpie to write your first and last name on the label. After you’ve collected the sample, set the container in the small door on the wall and lock it.” She rises from the stool and pulls open a drawer from the cabinet before grabbing a pale-yellow paper gown. “Then you can change into this. Take off all of your clothing, even your bra and underwear. The flaps of the gown go in front.” She pauses for a beat as I process all the information that’s been hurtled at me. “Any questions?”

I shake my head, trying to remember each step. Mom had offered to come with me, and I’d turned her down flat. As I sit on the exam table, I kind of wish she were here. I feel alone and a little scared.

“All right,” the nurse smiles gently as if she can sense my apprehension, “Dr. Davis will be in shortly.”

“Thank you.”

She bustles out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

First order of business...the urine sample.

A few years ago, Mom had broached the subject of a gynecologist and I’d nixed the idea. It’s not like I was sexually active. Who wants to go to the doctor and have a pelvic exam for shits and giggles?

But now...

It’s completely necessary, and I’m kicking myself for not doing it sooner.

Once in the bathroom, I scrawl my name on the plastic container and do my best to collect a sample. Ironically, now that I need to pee, I can’t force myself to go. It takes at least five minutes to finish up. As soon as I return to the examination room, I strip off my skirt, shirt, and undergarments before wrapping the gown around my body. Then I grab my phone and settle on the paper-covered table to wait for the doctor.

Ten minutes crawl by before there’s a light rap of knuckles on the door. A short blond woman in her late forties smiles before glancing at the chart in her hand. She has a kind smile and warm eyes that instantly put me at ease.

“Hello, Summer. I’m Dr. Davis. It’s nice to meet you.” When she offers a hand to shake, I reach out and take her narrow one. “I understand you’re here for an exam and to discuss birth control options.”

That would about sum it up. “Yes.”

She settles on the swivel stool before laying the chart on the desk and turning to face me. “How long have you been sexually active?”

There’s no reason for embarrassment, but still... “Less than two months.”

“Okay. Do you have a permanent partner?”

Ummm...

I scrunch my nose. “Like a boyfriend?”

Her lips lift slightly as she nods. “A boyfriend or one partner that your intimate with.”

My gaze skitters away. “Yes.” While Kingsley is definitely not my boyfriend, I suppose he falls into the permanent partner category.

She nods before wheeling the stool closer. “The reason I ask is because we checked your urine sample for hCG —

hCG?

I have no idea what that is.

Why would they check for that?

“And it turns out you’re pregnant,” she finishes quietly.

Pregnant.

The word reverberates in my head.

No. That’s not possible.

The roar of the ocean fills my ears until it drowns out almost everything else. My tongue darts out to moisten parched lips. The saliva filling my mouth disappears, leaving it to feel as dry as the Sahara.

Barely can I croak out the question. “Are you sure?”

“I’m afraid so. The urinalysis is ninety-nine percent accurate.” She rises from the stool. “We’ll take bloodwork when we’re finished. Why don’t you lie back on the table and I’ll examine you? Afterward, we can talk about your options.”

When I walked through the office door thirty minutes ago, I had assumed we would discuss an entirely different set of options. My mind buzzes as I recline on the table. It’s like I’m having a strange, out-of-body experience and this is happening to someone else.

I can’t be pregnant.

Tears prick the back of my eyelids.

“I’ll start with a breast exam.”

Dr. Davis peels back the left side of the paper gown until my breast is exposed and asks me to place my left arm above my head. Barely do I feel her fingers as they move steadily in a circular motion, gently pressing against the soft tissue. Then she moves to the right side and repeats the process.

“I didn’t feel anything that would be cause for concern, which is good.”

I want to burst out laughing, but somehow manage to keep it contained.

Hello, lady, I’m pregnant!

That alone is cause for concern.

Like...major fucking concern.

Dr. Davis extends the metal stirrups and helps place my feet inside them.

“Would it be correct to assume this pregnancy was unplanned?”

That question opens up the floodgates as a rush of hot tears fill my eyes. I jerk my head into a nod. If I attempt to speak, I’ll end up sobbing and I don’t want to do that. Stupid as it sounds, it never occurred to me that I could get pregnant. Kingsley wore condoms. It seemed like we were being careful.

Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“Let’s finish up with the pelvic exam and then we can talk.”

The rest of the visit goes by in a blur of information. Turns out I’m six weeks pregnant. My periods have always been irregular, and I’ve never done a great job of keeping track. If Mom hadn’t scheduled an appointment, who knows when I would have realized I was late. Especially considering everything that’s happened. For all I know, I got pregnant the first time we had sex. Or maybe in Door County at Kingsley’s beach house.

Kingsley.

Oh God...

What am I going to tell him?

Am I going to tell him?

I can’t believe this is something I have to think about.

Once I’m dressed, I push out through the door to the waiting room. Everly glances at me before jumping to her feet and searching my face. It’s as if she can sense that all isn’t right. The truth of the matter is that nothing has been right for a while. But it’s even more fucked up than I suspected.

“Everything good?” she asks carefully.

“Yup.” I nod and glance away, unable to hold her curious stare. “Just ready to get out of here.”

“Bet you’re glad that’s over with.” She swipes her purse from the chair before slinging it over her shoulder. “Pelvics...so not fun.”

I almost bark out a laugh. Instead, I keep the sound buried deep inside. I’m afraid if I release it into the air, the laughter will quickly turn to tears. As tempted as I am to confide in Everly, I need to keep this to myself until I figure out what I’m going to do.

Each time I think the situation can’t get worse, somehow I manage to jackhammer to an all new low.