Page 4 of Coming Up Roses

Myla Rose

Seeingno sense in delaying the inevitable, I grab my cell and dial Taylor. It goes to voicemail. So, I hang up and call him again. Voicemail. Now, I’m not the kind of girlfriend who goes all crazy when her man doesn’t pick up, but I really need to talk to him before I lose my damn nerve. I try his number one more time. He declines the call, sending me once again to voicemail. You’ve reached Taylor Mills. Sorry I can’t take your call right now . . . I drown out the rest of the recording and leave a message after the beep.

“Hey, Tay, I know you’re really busy with school, but if you could call me as soon as possible, I’d love it. I have some stuff . . . just call me, ‘kay?”

“He didn’t answer?” Azalea runs her fingers through my messy hair, pulling the tangles free as she goes.

“Nope. Guess all there is to do now is wait.”

“Myla Rose, I know this is tough and unexpected, but sister-girl, this isn’t you.”

I open my mouth to defend myself but close it just as quickly. She’s right, this isn’t me. “You’re right. I got myself into this, and even if it sucks, I need to own it. Also, I need to call the doctor.” I pale at that realization, and Azalea notices.

“It’ll be okay. They have laws and ethics and oaths. That's the last thing you need to worry about."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. The law is the law. Now, go on and give them a call. I'll be right here with you."

I Google the number to the OB-GYN's office and tap the Call button. My stomach churns with each ring. After the third, the automated greeting picks up.

Thank you for calling Dogwood Obstetrics and Gynecology. Please listen closely, as our menu has recently changed. I wait for the recorded voice to tell me the number to press to speak to the receptionist.

After a few more rings, it connects. "This is Tina, how may I help you?"

"Yes ma'am, hello. I just got a p–positive pregnancy test. So, I was calling to make an appointment."

"First day of your last period?"

"Um, maybe right before Christmas?"

"Okay, so due in September. You don't need to come in until you're eight weeks. Dr. Mills can see you February thirteenth at eight A.M. Does that work for you?"

"Yes ma'am, that'll be great." I disconnect the call and make note of the appointment in my calendar.

"Well?" Azalea asks.

"Apparently, I don't go until I'm eight weeks. So, next month, just before Valentine's Day."

"Huh. Guess you learn something new every day. Do you want me to come with you?"

"As much as I'd love it, we can't both take off."

"True. Well, maybe Taylor will want to go with you." She sounds a hell of a lot more hopeful than I feel.

"Thanks for rushin' over. I think I'm gonna lie down for a bit," I tell her as I crawl under my fluffy duvet.

"Always, Myles. Anytime and every time." She draws the covers up to my chin and plants a kiss on my forehead before showing herself out.

* * *

I waketo the sound of my phone alerting me to a missed call. From Taylor. I bolt upright, hitting Redial.

"Good God, Myla Rose. Three missed calls—is the world ending?" The irony of his words isn't lost on me.

"No, Tay, just need to talk to you."

"You wanted to talk, so you called me three times, back-to-back?" His voice has this tone to it. I can't quite put my finger on what I'm hearing, but I don't like it.

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