Page 76 of Catnip, Claws, and Chaos

“You pregnant?” Our driver’s squeaky voice cuts in from the front. In the rearview mirror, those creepy white eyes lock onto mine, weirdly gentle despite looking like something from a sci-fi nightmare.

My shoulders slump. “I don’t know yet.”

The unease in my expression must say everything because Clark—according to the app, that’s his name—nods once and refocuses on the road.

I feel like I’m on my way to hell. Even though Clark’s driving an old green Toyota and not some sort of boat, I have to admit he would make a perfect Charon. As long as he doesn’t speak, that is.

I see the clinic coming up in the distance, and my heart starts to pound. I half expect to see flames engulfing the huge white building and hear a dark, menacing voice ordering me to enter and welcoming me to hell.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, Emily, we’re here!”

I was wrong. The petulant voice belongs to my best friend, not a demon.

We get out of the car, waving goodbye to Clark and walking quickly to the main entrance. Okay, well, Sarah walks quickly while I drag my feet behind her, desperately trying to put off the inevitable. I feel like a dead man walking.

A pleasant receptionist gives us directions to the gynecology department. We take the elevator to the third floor, where a young admin is seated behind a desk. “Good afternoon!” she greets us. “How can I help you?”

“We’re here to see Dr. Hall. The name is Emily Baker.”

The young woman checks something on her computer screen and then nods. “All right. Please take a seat, and a nurse will be with you shortly.”

I look around for a place to sit, and my eyes practically bulge out of their sockets when I see the rest of the patients waiting to see the doctor. There are at least five women with enormous bellies sitting next to their partners.

I shake my head. I’m in the wrong place! I shouldn’t be here. But it’ll be useless to try to convince Sarah that we should leave, so I sit down with a sigh next to a woman who seems to be in her eighties. At least she doesn’t have one of those huge, unnerving bellies with a baby inside it. At least, I hope she doesn’t.

“Hello, dear.” She smiles at me, and small wrinkles form at the sides of her mouth. “Is it your first time?”

“Um, no.” What I mean is that I’ve been to a gynecologist before. I don’t know Dr. Hall, but I’m sure he’s no different than all the other gynos, right?

“Ah, well, I went through it four times. I can’t say it was easy, but I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything in the world.”

I look at Sarah and mouth, “What the hell is she talking about?”

My friend rolls her eyes and prepares to respond when someone calls my name.

“Baker? Emily Baker?” A woman wearing pink scrubs surveys the room.

I consider not getting up in the hopes that she’ll go on to another patient, but Sarah isn’t on board with that idea.

“We’re here!” she says, leaping to her feet and calling the nurse’s attention to us. Yep, it’s too late to get out of it now.

We follow her to one of the exam rooms inside. There are pictures on the walls of ultrasounds and one of those drawings that depicts the female reproductive system. I wrinkle up my nose. Why would anyone want to know what a vagina looks like from the inside?

The nurse directs me to sit down and draws my blood. “Done,” she says, removing the tourniquet from my arm. “Please change into the smock and wait here. The doctor will be in shortly.” She hands me the ugly paper garment and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

“What are you waiting for? Put on the smock and sit down on the exam table,” Sarah prods me, repeating the nurse’s words.

“You know what? I think I've changed my mind.” I lunge toward the door.

“Very funny, Em.” Sarah blocks my path, crossing her arms over her chest. “Would you mind telling me why you're refusing to take this seriously? Why are you acting like you don't even give a shit?” Her voice cracks.

“It's not that I don't give a shit, Sarah.” Heat rushes to my face. “It's that I don't want to know! You're the one who should stop sticking her nose into my business!”

“I'm your best friend. It's my job to worry about you!” Hurt flashes across her face.

“But there's nothing to worry about. I'm fine.” The lie tastes metallic on my tongue, like the blood from biting the inside of my cheek too hard.

“Emily, sweetie, I'm sure everything will be fine, but we need to know if you're really pregnant. You can't just wait and possibly put yourself or the baby in danger.”

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