Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“And when was your last period? I don’t see it listed on your intake form.”
Unrelated, but okay.
“Guess I didn’t fill it in.” I have to think about it for a second. “It’s been over a month, but this food poisoning stuff has really thrown off my body.”
She peers up at me. “And are your periods usually regular?”
“Yes, always.”
Dr. Lopez looks first at her medical assistant, then at Sawyer, smiling tightly. “Sawyer, would you mind stepping outside for a moment?”
I lean forward on the exam table, holding out my arm in protest so Sawyer will stay put. “If this is about me potentially being pregnant, I’m not.” I laugh, trying to ease her worries. “I took a test a few weeks ago. Three tests, actually.”
“All on the same day?” It’s troubling that she doesn’t sound as impressed as I thought she would.
“Yes,” I reply firmly. “All negative.”
“And have you tried testing again since then?”
“No.”
I sound incredulous at the idea that I would torture myself in that way. Why would I bother? I got my answer three times over.
She looks again at her medical assistant. “Let’s have Ms. McCall leave a urine sample.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t want to disrespect this sweet doctor. “That’s really not necessary. I’m not pregnant. I’m sick.”
I’m tempted to give an exaggerated cough à la Karen in Mean Girls just to prove my point.
Dr. Lopez nods, smiling. “Of course, I understand. Still, I think it would be helpful to rule out. It’s just protocol.”
Who can argue with “just protocol”? I follow the medical assistant to the bathroom and listen to her instructions, all the while fighting back my annoyance. What a total waste of time, but I’ll play along if it means getting to the bottom of this stupid food poisoning debacle.
I leave a sample, finish up in the bathroom, and head back to the exam room where Sawyer’s sitting waiting for me. He’s glancing out the window when I step back inside, lost in thought from the looks of it.
“Sorry about all this.” I sigh to let him know I think it’s ridiculous, but when he turns to me, he looks entirely too serious. I can tell he’s getting in his head about this pregnancy speculation, so I skirt around the exam table and take a seat in the chair beside his. I pick up his hand and squeeze it.
“We’ve been here before, yeah?” I try to sound nonchalant. “They’ll test, it’ll come back negative, and then we can focus on the root of my real problem: that damn barbecue.”
Sawyer smiles, but it’s reserved. It’s like there’s a secret behind his eyes, something he’s not telling me.
I tilt my head and wrinkle my brow. “What is it?”
He inhales and looks down at our hands, shaking his head. “Nothing. Let’s just see what the doctor says.”
I haven’t said a word in over an hour.
I’m sitting outside on Sawyer’s porch, staring down at the creek. He’s hovering about, worried. He’s brought me iced tea, lemonade, a sandwich, some Oreos. I haven’t touched anything.
“Are you okay?” he asks now, for the hundredth time.
I can only nod, mute. I’m in shock.
Why is he not in shock? In fact, he seems relatively calm.
I’m pre—
See? I can’t even get it out.
Preg-g-g—
Okay, whatever. I’m the P word—at least according to the urine sample and the ultrasound that was performed in the OB clinic next door to Dr. Lopez’s practice. The rollercoaster of emotions I’ve been feeling these last few weeks has once again decided to tick-tick-tick its way to the top of a thrilling drop.
“I just gave away all those boxes,” I say with a shake of my head, like that is the most worrisome issue surrounding this sudden turn of events. “Do you think I can get them back?”
“Let’s not worry about that stuff. We’ll get whatever you need. And I still have that milestone book and the stuffed bear. I was keeping them for…” He cuts himself off then sighs and takes a seat next to me. “I just wanted to keep them.”
That fruit book! The cute yellow bear! For some reason I’m relieved by the news.
“I really thought it was the barbecue…”
As I say this, a little laugh bursts out of me. Maybe I’m having a psychotic break.
“Do you want me to call Queenie?” Sawyer asks gently.
“No. Don’t call Queenie! I can’t deal with all that right now.”
Besides, Queenie probably already suspects this. All those glances and secret conversations between her and Marge—I bet those two knew all along and were just waiting for me to realize it myself. Newsflash, Madison: All the signs were there.
“Are you happy?”
I blink and look at him. I can tell he’s holding back, trying to give me space to process everything before he layers on his own feelings. I can’t help but break out in a smile. “Extremely…but I’m almost too nervous to let myself believe it.”