these stirrup things that she’s used once before when they took her Pap. It’s just as embarrassing. The nurse is up by her head jotting something down on her clipboard and Amber secretly suspects that’s just her way of pretending they’re giving her privacy when really they’re not.
“Are you ready, Amber?” Dr. Walters asks. He’s been her pediatrician since they’ve moved here and has talked her through every embarrassing doctor-patient moment she can remember.
She still flushes when his latex covered hands press inside. It’s cold and embarrassing and hurts a little as well. And nothing at all like making love to Michael, thank God. She’d feared, once upon a time before Michael had wiped all those crazy thoughts away, that having sex would be kind of like getting a check-up. Prodding, invasive, huge pointy things stretching and poking at her most sensitive parts.
The plastic snap of Dr. Walters’ gloves being removed brings her back to reality.
“All right, you can put your legs down, everything seems okay in there.” He tosses the gloves in the trash and washes his hands in the sink.
Amber’s cold and sticky from that slimy stuff he used down there to ease the way. She’s terrified and embarrassed and she wants to take a bath.
Which is of course the time her blood test comes back and Dr. Walters confirms, “Congratulations. You’re having a baby.”
* * * *
The rest of the trip is a blur. Amber’s not sure how she gets home, or gets dressed, or keeps breathing for that matter. She’s pregnant. With Michael’s child.
She’s going to be a mother. How the hell is she going to be someone’s mother?
She still feels sick but it’s with the heavy knowledge that she’s not ready for this, none of it, and not just the general nausea she’s been feeling as of late because she’s…
She’s pregnant.
The first thing she does is find the number to Michael’s base. He doesn’t like her to call there because the only time he gets calls is when it’s an emergency and it terrifies him to hear the summons that he’s needed on the phone. But, Christ, if this isn’t an emergency she doesn’t know what is.
She blurs through asking for him, lips numb and uncooperative, hand returning time and again to her stomach. There’s a child in there. A baby inside. Michael’s and hers and she’s not ready for this shit, dear God why didn’t they use a condom. She will every single time from now on if someone just takes it away!
His voice comes on the line and it’s wrecked, terrified, “Amber? What is it? What’s wrong?”
And she nearly tosses the phone then and there, along with the little bit of breakfast she’d managed to force down and all the bitter acids in her stomach floating around.
Floating in her stomach along with a baby.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts, tears are thick in her voice but they haven’t fallen yet.
And there’s a long silence.
And then softly, he asks, “Is it mine?”
She does throw the phone then. And she does cry. She sobs and she heaves for breath and when she’s done she does throw up.
Both Mom and Dad find her there on the kitchen floor, surrounded by her own mess, falling apart with the dial tone heavy and screeching loud in the air.
* * * *
“You have some options,” Mom says. They haven’t gotten along in almost five years, since the moment Dad broke down in tears in their living room moaning, “Why, Patricia? Why? Why? Why?” while Amber and Jeremy stood on the stairs, frozen in panic. Neither of them had ever seen their father cry before then.
Amber needs her now though. Dad doesn’t understand, he’d just as soon “beat that little punk’s ass” as figure out what she’s going to do now. Actually, he’d probably prefer the latter. His face has stayed a steady shade of angered red since Amber has managed to hiccup out her confession.
“You can have the baby,” Mom says calmly, her hands envelop Amber’s own trembling
“Are you ready, Amber?” Dr. Walters asks. He’s been her pediatrician since they’ve moved here and has talked her through every embarrassing doctor-patient moment she can remember.
She still flushes when his latex covered hands press inside. It’s cold and embarrassing and hurts a little as well. And nothing at all like making love to Michael, thank God. She’d feared, once upon a time before Michael had wiped all those crazy thoughts away, that having sex would be kind of like getting a check-up. Prodding, invasive, huge pointy things stretching and poking at her most sensitive parts.
The plastic snap of Dr. Walters’ gloves being removed brings her back to reality.
“All right, you can put your legs down, everything seems okay in there.” He tosses the gloves in the trash and washes his hands in the sink.
Amber’s cold and sticky from that slimy stuff he used down there to ease the way. She’s terrified and embarrassed and she wants to take a bath.
Which is of course the time her blood test comes back and Dr. Walters confirms, “Congratulations. You’re having a baby.”
* * * *
The rest of the trip is a blur. Amber’s not sure how she gets home, or gets dressed, or keeps breathing for that matter. She’s pregnant. With Michael’s child.
She’s going to be a mother. How the hell is she going to be someone’s mother?
She still feels sick but it’s with the heavy knowledge that she’s not ready for this, none of it, and not just the general nausea she’s been feeling as of late because she’s…
She’s pregnant.
The first thing she does is find the number to Michael’s base. He doesn’t like her to call there because the only time he gets calls is when it’s an emergency and it terrifies him to hear the summons that he’s needed on the phone. But, Christ, if this isn’t an emergency she doesn’t know what is.
She blurs through asking for him, lips numb and uncooperative, hand returning time and again to her stomach. There’s a child in there. A baby inside. Michael’s and hers and she’s not ready for this shit, dear God why didn’t they use a condom. She will every single time from now on if someone just takes it away!
His voice comes on the line and it’s wrecked, terrified, “Amber? What is it? What’s wrong?”
And she nearly tosses the phone then and there, along with the little bit of breakfast she’d managed to force down and all the bitter acids in her stomach floating around.
Floating in her stomach along with a baby.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts, tears are thick in her voice but they haven’t fallen yet.
And there’s a long silence.
And then softly, he asks, “Is it mine?”
She does throw the phone then. And she does cry. She sobs and she heaves for breath and when she’s done she does throw up.
Both Mom and Dad find her there on the kitchen floor, surrounded by her own mess, falling apart with the dial tone heavy and screeching loud in the air.
* * * *
“You have some options,” Mom says. They haven’t gotten along in almost five years, since the moment Dad broke down in tears in their living room moaning, “Why, Patricia? Why? Why? Why?” while Amber and Jeremy stood on the stairs, frozen in panic. Neither of them had ever seen their father cry before then.
Amber needs her now though. Dad doesn’t understand, he’d just as soon “beat that little punk’s ass” as figure out what she’s going to do now. Actually, he’d probably prefer the latter. His face has stayed a steady shade of angered red since Amber has managed to hiccup out her confession.
“You can have the baby,” Mom says calmly, her hands envelop Amber’s own trembling
Similar Books
