Page 87 of Leave Before I Love You
“No,” I reply, trying to sound calm and collected when, in reality, I’m seconds away from throwing myself across her desk. “But this is an emergency. One of those circumstances where you have to make an exception to the appointment rule.”
She blinks. “An emergency?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding furiously. “Like, a…possible baby emergency. Hence, the reason I’m here. At an OB-GYN.”
“We don’t usually do walk-ins,” she says, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. “But I can look at the schedule and see if Dr. Moretti has any openings this week.”
“This week?” I question, my voice rising in panic. “No, that won’t work.” I lean in, lowering my voice like I’m about to spill state secrets. “Listen. I need an appointmentnow. I might be pregnant. And I’m not supposed to be pregnant. Like, me being pregnant right now is absolute insanity and I need to figure out what in the hell is happening and I can’t just go to some rando clinic because do I look like the kind of girl who goes to rando clinics? Um,no. I need to see Dr. Moretti.” I pull a credit card out of my wallet and slam it down on the desk. “Charge me whatever, but I need to see the doctor.”
Her lips twitch and I think she’s about to smile, but she just shakes her head. “One moment.”
She picks up the phone and proceeds to have a quietconversation that I can’t hear before she hangs up. “We don’t usually do this, but I recognize you from the news… You’re one of the island survivors, aren’t you?”
Panic floods my veins and makes my eyeballs widen comically. She shakes her head. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. I imagine you’ve been through enough.” Then she looks both ways before handing me a clipboard with a stack of papers on it. “Fill out this new patient registration form and take a seat. Dr. Moretti will fit you in.”
Quickly, I scratch down all my info on the sheet without even moving from the window, courtesy be damned, and hand it back to her.
“Thank you,” I say, and she nods then jerks her chin at the waiting room chairs. I comply, pulling a silk scarf out of my bag and wrapping it around my head. Now that she mentioned knowing me, I’m a little afraid everyone else will too. Luckily, the place is ridiculously fancy, with chandeliers, a coffee bar, framed photos of smiling babies on every wall, and a huge spread-out waiting room. It’s more spa than medical office, and I find a quiet corner away from all the other patients.
I don’t know how long I stare at the wall before a nurse calls my name, but I don’t think it matters. Time is a chasm, reality is warped, and I might be motherfucking pregnant. This isn’t exactly something I had on my schedule, and it takes as long as it takes. The nurse is young, with a bright smile and a clipboard that she clutches like it’s her lifeline when I get her in sight, waiting at the wooden door next to the sign-in desk.
“Ms. Banks?” she says, and I’m thankful they had the forethought not to say my first name, given the circumstances.
As I approach her, I smooth my hands nervously down my Prada jeans. “That’s me.”
“Right this way,” she says, leading me down a hallway lined with more baby photos. “So, you think you’re pregnant?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice tight. “But I need to know for sure. Like, immediately.”
She nods, her smile never faltering. “We’ll start with a pregnancy test, and Dr. Moretti will see you after that.”
I follow her into an exam room, where she hands me a cup. “You know the drill, right? Pee in this, bring it back to me, and we’ll dip a strip. Easy as that,” she says with a wink when my whole body locks up.
I trudge through the motions of pissing in a little cup via an unruly tool with which you can’t control the spray—kind of like putting your thumb over a garden hose—and blow out a breath when I manage to fill it halfway.
I seal it, wash my hands, hand it off to the nurse outside the door, and return to the room, jumping up onto the paper-covered table and sinking my head into my hands.
My God, how times have changed.
Five minutes of staring at the door like it’s about to burst into flames later, the nurse returns, looking entirely too calm for someone holding my future in her hands.
“Congratulations,” she says, her smile tenuously bright. “You’re pregnant.”
My stomach pitches to the side, and my ears start to ring. “What?”
“The test is positive,” she repeats. “Your feeling was correct, and you are, in fact, pregnant.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s wrong. It has to be wrong. I think you need to do the thing where you put goo all over my belly and see inside my uterus. They do it onGrey’s Anatomyall the time.”
“An ultrasound?”
“Yes, that.” I nod manically. “Do that. Because I think your tests are expired or something.”
“That’s not how that usually works,” she says. “Our tests aren’tlike home tests, and they are very effective. But I’ll let the doctor know your request if you feel really strongly—”
“I feel strongly. Very, very strongly. I’m the freaking Hulk over here, okay? World’s Strongest Man Winner. Omnipotent and omnipowerful like God Almighty, for the purposes of this moment, you know?”
She smiles. “I’ll try my best.”
