Page 25 of The Last Trip

I huff a breath as sudden, frustrated tears fill my eyes. Then, overwhelmed by the frustration, they overflow. “Oh. I don’t think so.” I chew my lip. “I mean, it doesn’t matter. I just didn’twant to be in the wrong person’s room and have them come in here or something.”

“They won’t, because this is your room.” Her dark brows rise as she practically begs me to argue again. “Sit down, Ms. Hawthorne.”

I suck in a breath, grateful, at least, that she’s ignoring my tears so they will hopefully go away soon. Dutifully, I sit down on the edge of the chair, feeling uncomfortable with the way the white sheet on the table is clearly wrinkled. Someone has been sitting on the bed, and probably in this chair, too. This room hasn’t been cleaned, and if I think about that too much, it’ll make me sick.

She approaches me with the machine to test my blood pressure without a word, slips the cuff on my arm, and presses a button. Seconds later, she pulls the cuff off of my arm and walks back to the counter, facing away from me.

“Is it better?” I ask, my voice low.

Without looking my way, she says, “Your doctor will discuss everything with you when she sees you.”

I chomp on my bottom lip, frustration and exhaustion brimming over. I can’t open my mouth to speak for fear my voice will break.

She steps toward the door and pulls it open, walking out into the hall before looking back. “Come on.”

I stand, like a scolded child, and fall in line behind her on my way to make sure my daughter is okay, while feeling very much not okay myself.

Later, with the reassurance that the baby is fine, and I’m just experiencing mild Braxton Hicks contractions, the doctor sendsme home with instructions to monitor my blood pressure at least twice a day and call her if it gets too high.

On my way home, I call Cal. I’m no longer in the mood to ignore him or keep him out of this. The nurse’s actions and disregard for my concerns about being in the wrong room, though it all seems small and insignificant in hindsight, really upset me. We should feel safe with our medical professionals, and her responses toward me made me feel the exact opposite. I just want someone to make me feel safe at this moment, and the person who can do that without fail is Cal.

He answers quickly. “Hey, honey. What’s up?”

“I, um, I just left the doctor’s office,” I tell him, my voice on the verge of cracking.

“What? What’s wrong? Did something happen with the baby? Did you get hurt at the park?” His usually calm voice is suddenly filled with fear and concern.

“No, baby’s fine. I’m fine. I was having some pains, so I went in to have everything checked out, but they’re just Braxton Hicks. Nothing to worry about.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the doctor? I would’ve gone with you.”

Now I feel as if I’ve betrayed him in the worst way. What if something actually had been wrong? He deserved to be there, and I let my pride and frustration keep him from that. “I know.” Now my voice does crack, and suddenly, the dam breaks. I’m sobbing as I say, “I’m sorry. I was just really stressed, and my blood pressure was up, and I was mad at you about the house, but none of that matters. Can you come home?” I just want to hug him, cuddle up on the couch, and forget about this whole stupid argument.

“Of course. I’m still at work, but I had coverage for today, so I don’t have a class. I can leave. Are you on your way home now?Do you want me to meet you somewhere? Are you okay to drive? Tell me what you need.”

I sniffle, wiping my nose and cheeks. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I just…I just need you to meet me at home, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll finish up here and meet you at home in the next hour or so…” He trails off on the word, sounding distracted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, nothing. That Norma lady from the rental keeps calling, wanting us to come back and pick up your gift. She’s getting pretty persistent about it. I told her I can probably run up there and get it one day soon when I have a chance, but she wants you there specifically. I guess they want to see your reaction or something. I told her I’m not sure you’re up for the trip.”

“No, Cal. I’m not going, and I don’t want you to go either. I don’t trust them. Why are they being so pushy? Why would they have gotten me a gift in the first place? It just feels like they want us back out there for some reason, and now specifically me.”

“Some reason like what?” he asks, his tone less judgmental than before.

“Do you not think it’s strange?”

He sighs. “I think they’re a lonely old couple whose kids are probably grown and long gone, and they’re trying to be nice. But the point is, if you’re not comfortable, we won’t go. Plain and simple. I’ll block their number. They don’t have our address, so we’ll all just move on. You and our daughter are all that matter to me. You know that, right?”

I squeeze my eyes shut at a stoplight, drying my cheeks. “I know.”

“Now get home safe, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

We end the call, and I turn my blinker on, preparing to turn left to go home, but something clicks inside me. I don’t want to go home. Right now, I don’t feel safe at home. Not alone. I don’twant to wait in that apartment for him for even a second. I’ll go by the school and surprise him instead, sneak a kiss in the parking lot. It’s been ages since I did that. Not since graduation in the spring, I suppose.

The drive is relatively quick, just a short trip to the campus downtown. When I get there, I drive through the rows of cars, searching for his. The black Camry is hardly one of a kind in this lot, but I recognize his by the yellow ‘Baby on Board’ sticker stuck to his back windshield. He insisted he get it the day we found out I was pregnant.

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