Face a mask of worry, I reach out to touch him. Yet stop myself. Let him sleep…
I step around one of his mother’s art pieces and head to the kitchen. I’ll make crepes and Evan can tell me what the hell happened to him on the job last night. As I begin to grab eggs out of the stainless steel refrigerator, I gulp deeply. My stomach is unsettled. I grip a carton of milk and then it teeters back onto the glass shelf and my hands go to my mouth. On the balls of my feet, I quietly stalk over the limestone flooring to the bathroom.
I scurry to the porcelain toilet and fall to my knees. My arms clamp around the toilet. Its fresh-lemon scent stirs ferociously at my stomach. Head practically entering the bowl, I begin to upchuck bits of nothingness and liquid. Last night, I didn’t cook dinner. With Evan gone, what would be the use? So in an instant, I’m practically dry heaving against the toilet, upchucking clear water.
Am I preg…?
No, it’s not possible.
I text Jamie ‘emergency,’ brush my teeth and have a beanie slapped on my bed-head hair, jeans and am pulling on a shirt while heading out the door. In the elevator, I grab the Vans from my satchel and place one on after the other. Why am I being so ridiculous? I had ample time to dress since Jamie couldn’t have gotten here in ten minutes. The calming elevator music soothes my soul, while I add a bit of gloss to my lips, just enough to separate me from any ol’ hobo off the street.
The doors swoosh open, and a familiar voice is loudly traveling from the double doors.
“My friend is having an emergency, hello, dude, don’t you understand?” Jamie’s shouting at the doorman, at the exit.
The doorman has his hands up in defense, “Sir, I hear you, loud and clearly, —”
Pace quickening, I speak in a louder than normal tone but try not to match my friend’s yelling, “Jamie, I’m here.” I turn to the doorman, “Sorry about that.”
Before the doors close, Jamie is in my ear. “What the fuck is going on, Reese? You’re telling me about a fucking Charger, a stalker, and… and…”
Standing in the middle of the walkway, downtown, I cut in, “I haven’t had my menstruation in a while.”
“Bitch, does it look like I want to hear about your period. Bloody pussy is one reason why I cling to the cock!”
“Shhh,” I snap, as a businessman in a charcoal gray suit gawks at us on his way by. “Jamie, will you please come with me to Dr. Saadat?”
“Oh… YOU’RE PREGNANT?” Jamie’s dark face brightens with interest. “I’m gonna be an uncle! I’m gonna be a godfather. I need to settle down. You’re okay with your daughter having two godfathers, right?”
“Shut up,” I snap at him in much the same manner that Evan did to me in the wee hours of this morning. I glance up, though at this angle, I can’t see the top of the skyscraper-like building. Something tells me that Evan should be at my side right now…
I follow Jamie.
I’ve re-dressed and am stalking back and forth in the tiny area. Jamie is seated on a visitor stool to my right, the examination table is to my left. There are pictures on the walls of heathy versus unhealthy. Dr Saadat ambles into the room, in a white coat, his glasses at the tip of his nose and my file against it. “Miss Dunham, I’d say congratulations are in order. Dr. Azikwe stated your growing babe has a strong heartbeat.”
“Yes, and I'm grateful for that,” I say through clenched teeth. The African doctor had apologized since my primary doctor, Saadat, was booked all morning, and she continued to congratulate myself and Jamie on our blossoming seed. Until Jamie cut in and let her know that no way had he stuck his most prized possession in my ‘chasm of doom.’
I had argued to high heavens to have a chat with Dr. Saadat for just two measly seconds. Dr. Azikwe obliged. Now, he stands before me, mind probably on the next beaver he plans on giving a damn Pap smear.
“How did this happen?” I ask, eyes burning with a fresh batch of tears. Can't be nothing but paranoia but my nipples began to itch the instant I hear my baby's heartbeat. Something, boy or girl… Dear Lord, let it be a girl that is growing in my womb. I fucking never wanted to get pregnant in my life. Yet here we are.
“Well, you're taking the lowest hormone for weight purposes…”
“Hey!” I shout, offended by the facts.
Dr Saadat speaks quickly, giving statistics on the birthing rate for those who take the pill regardless of how serious they are in our daily regimen.
His eyes begin to shift back and forth.
“Look at this motherfucker, Reese, he's a rat, he's a dirty rat,” Milo had said. His knuckles were bloody. At eight years old, I had clung to him, afraid to glance at the man's face for fear of vomiting. Originally, I was gleeful about an outing without mom, and then I learned my father had no reservations about taking lives.
I glare at Dr. Saadat. “You're a fucking liar!”
Jamie begins, “Reese, calm— “
“No, I haven't missed a goddamn single day with my pills!” I advance toward the doctor and Jamie grabs me by the waist. But not before I can get a good grip on Saadat’s lab coat.
“Okay… okay…” he shouts being tugged by me as I'm tugged by Jamie. My friend stops, eyebrows raised.
“Speak!” My voice is low; I have no desire to be put out
