Page 18 of In the Air Tonight

“I have a routine questionnaire that goes over some basic things.”

I answer a bunch of questions about my health—age of first period, most recent period and a full depression screening, which I’ve been through before. The questions bring back memories from when I was feeling so low I wondered how I could still be alive. I hadn’t known then that it was possible to go even lower.

“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

I want to die on the spot. Can she tell if I am, and will she know if I’m lying?

“It’s okay, Denise. You can talk to me.”

As if a dam has burst, I start to cry so hard I can’t breathe or think or do anything other than cry.

She stands by my side, holding my hand as the emotional tsunami overtakes me. I suppose it was only a matter of time before it broke.

“I’ll get you some water.” She hands me another tissue. “I’ll be right back.”

When she returns with a plastic cup of water, she rubs my back and holds the cup while I take some sips. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. How can I help?”

“You can’t. No one can.”

“That’s not true.”

I release a bitter laugh as I mop up my tears with a third tissue. “In this case, it is.”

“I’ve found that it helps to talk about whatever is weighing on you. When you share it with someone who can help, it takes some of the burden off your shoulders.”

Her words settle over me like a warm blanket. I want so badly to tell someone, but I’m terrified of the consequences.

“Would you have to tell my dad whatever I say in here?”

“Absolutely not. It’s between us, but I may encourage you to talk to him or someone else who can help you.”

“Am I pregnant?”

“I can’t say for certain without further testing.”

A sob erupts from my chest as my worst fears come true. “Can you get pregnant the first time?”

“Yes.”

That’s not what I wanted to hear. I’ve been tempted to ask Google that question for weeks but was afraid of the answer. The health classes that covered such things were years ago now, and I can’t remember the details. Besides, I’ve had no need to know those details before now.

“Are you in a relationship with someone?”

“Yes, but he lives in Spain.”

She doesn’t respond to that, probably hoping I’ll say more.

“This… What happened… It wasn’t…” I can’t speak or breathe over the wave of emotion that jams my throat.

“Denise, were you raped?”

Here it is. The moment of truth. If I tell her, it’ll never again be just my secret—and his. Someone else will know.

She continues to run her hand in soothing circles over my back. “You’re in a safe place. Whatever you tell me will remain confidential unless you don’t want it to.”

“W…will you have to report it to the police?”

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