Page 50 of Ghosted By Texas

Becs: You’re on and you owe me dinner too if you cry like a baby, too.

The odds of her crying over a ‘cute little black and white blob’ were far greater.

Clea: I’ll buy you dinner, since you’ll be buying lunch because I already know I’ll get weepy.

I laughed at her response, because most of it was true. I didn’t think I’d cry though, since I was going in knowing exactly what to expect.

Clea: Houston asked if Austin got a hold of you.

Becs: Fuck Austin.

Clea: Seriously, I agree, but he is the father. Are you sure he shouldn’t be going to this appointment, instead?

Becs: I’d appreciate it if neither of you told him about the appointment. It’s not his business. When the baby gets here, then it becomes his business.

Clea: Becs, I’m not so sure…

Becs: I am. Please, drop it. I have first graders up next, and I don’t want to accidentally paste their lips shut because I’m angry with you.

Clea: I do understand. Love you. Don’t paste the first graders together. Save that for the fifth graders.

Becs: Those little shits are too fast for me. I have to come up with something else for them.

Clea: It’s scary that you’re going to be a parent.

Becs: Nah. I’m all talk. I love my kids. Well, except that one who took a crap, put it on my desk, and called it butt art.

Clea: I do not envy your job. At all. That’s…

She never did say what that was. I assumed she had a case of the dry heaves that kept her from finishing the text and I had to put my phone away since the bell rang.

“Okay, first graders, let’s make the best paintings ever for your parents!” I called out enthusiastically to them. For the first time ever, I imagined my child being one of the bright and smiling faces that looked back at me with eager anticipation. I couldn’t wait to get my first painting. Then, I wondered if it would go to me or Austin, since there would be two different households for my child. Shit. That was depressing and tears pooled in my eyes.

“Are you okay, Ms. Robinson?” Kaley asked me.

“I’m fine. Something in my eye hurts.”

“Probably an eyelash,” she offered wisely.

“Nah, it might be one of those crunchy eye buggers,” Jake Weller put in.

“Ew, why do you have buggers in your eyeball?” Shayla asked.

“That’s a good question for you all to ask during your science class,” I informed them. Their teacher hated me, so a little payback for her attitude helped to brighten my day.

~*~

I was weighed, blood pressure and temperature taken, peed in a cup, and my blood was drawn, too. I had officially been probed in just about every way you can be for a regular checkup. Then, I was told to put on the stupid paper gown and cover my legs with the even dumber paper blanket. Oh, and it was freezing cold in the office. Even Clea left her jacket on while we waited, and I sat there shivering.

“This is ridiculous, can you hand me my sweatshirt? Luckily, it was one that zipped in front, so I was able to toss it on, on top of my paper gown.

When the doctor came in, she apologized immediately. “I’m so sorry. One of our older nurses had a hot flash, messed with the thermostat, and here we are in the arctic, dealing with extreme temperatures until the heating and air people can come figure out why it’s stuck on polar temperature settings. I realize it’s the beginning of April, but it hasn’t warmed up that much yet,” she prattled on.

It had taken a little over a week before they had an opening to schedule me in for an appointment, so March had rolled right into the next month, and I was even more pregnant than before. The exhaustion and slight nausea were proof enough that the test hadn’t been wrong, along with my still missing period.

“When was the first day of your last period?”

“The end of January,” I answered honestly as Clea stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “I had a lot on my mind and didn’t realize,” I explained to my best friend. Considering she had complained about her period being off, I could understand why she was judging me for not realizing the same had been true for me.

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