Page 4 of Trusting Trey
“Breathe through it, Allison,” he instructed, breathing with me in long slow breaths so I didn’t hyperventilate. He kept rubbing the muscle until the tightening began to lessen and I could breathe normally again.
“I’m sorry for waking you,” I groaned, lying back and throwing my arm over my forehead when I read the time on the clock was two a.m.
The room seemed bright from the moonlight coming from the window, and the small nightlight in the room, which is how I saw him get off the bed and go into thebathroom, turning the light on over the sink.I could hear him digging through the medicine cabinet and my stomach rolled at the thought of what he was doing. I heard the pills shake as he dumped one into his hand and the water come on. The sound of the glass filling gave me no choice but to sit up and wait for him to return. He stopped in the door of the bathroom, silhouetted by the light behind him, and I told myself he means well.
He padded back to the bed and handed me the pill and the glass, but I hesitated a second before putting it in my mouth. I stared at the tiny pink pill, praying if I swallowed it my body wouldn’t throw it back up. I noticed his brow raised high and I tossed it into the back of my throat and washed it down. I gave him back the glass with a big smile, “Thank you. Again, I’m sorry for waking you.”
He crawled across me and lay on his side of the bed. “Why do you apologize? You can wake me up ten times a night if you need me. What I’m wondering is, why you’ve been getting muscle spasms again. What’s going on?”
I rubbed my eyes. “That was the first muscle relaxer I’ve taken in a few weeks,” I admitted, glad the room was still dark enough I couldn’t see his facial expression.
“Well, that might be the answer.” He joked half-heartedly and ran his hand over his face. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been yourself the last few weeks.”
I sighed, heavily. “Work really seems to be kicking my butt. I find myself nodding off when it’s quiet. Maybe this cold weather is getting to me?”
It’s true, we were experiencing our first cold snap of the winter, but I’ve lived in Duluth all my life. It was a lame excuse and we both knew it. Last night a fresh inch of snow fell and brought in a cold northern wind. It didn’t matter much, since a Duluth Minnesota winter is always cold.
He rubbed my arm and linked his fingers in mine. “The weather doesn’t explain why you haven’t been taking your muscle relaxer. You know you need that at night or you aren’t going to sleep.”
“It makes me tired, you know that,” I answered into the darkness, and heard him chuckle in response.
“Exactly. That’s the point. It relaxes you, so you can sleep and not be woken up by cramps.”
“You’re right,” I admitted. I’ve had to tell him he was right a lot over the last thirteen years and it never got any easier.
He pulled his legs up and rested his chin on his knees. “So, what’s the rest of the story?”
I wanted to answer him, but my stomach was rolling already. My eyes got huge and I knew my prayer was going to go unanswered. I struggled out from under the sheet to scoot to the end of the bed. I didn’t have my braces on and I crawled to the bathroom and hung my head over the toilet waiting for the inevitable moment. The moment when the pill would be lying in the bowl and my stomach would be burning again. I felt his hands on my waist, steadying me. Then he wet a washcloth and handed it to me, one hand still resting on my hip.
“And lately they make me throw up,” I said, his laughter soft in the dark of the room.
He helped me back to the bed, my high steppage gait noticeable without the braces. I sat on the edge and he knelt in front of me. “They’ve never made you sick before?”
I shook my head in response and the grin that covered his face made me wonder why he was taking pleasure in my agony. “Are you late?”
I stared at him, with one eye shut. “I’m sorry? Late? It’s late, yes. We should go back to bed.”
His smile softened and he tugged my tank top strap back up from my shoulder. “No, I mean you’re late. I checked the calendar before bed last night, wondering if hormones were making you feel out of control emotionally. I was surprised to see you were late and hadn’t mentioned it.”
My stomach jumped and I did fast mental calculations. I was late, but only a week, maybe less. I started shaking my head. “No, no. Well, yes, I’m late, but with how busy we’ve been lately I didn’t notice. That said, I’m not pregnant. No.”
“Are you sure?” he asked cocking one brow and I puffed out my cheeks.
“Dr. Fatma said I wouldn’t get pregnant right after going off the pill after being on it for all these years, remember?” I pointed out logically, flipping into logical librarian mode. Even if he hated when I used that voice on him, this particular case called for it. He needed to see my reasoning, so we could go back to bed.
“He did, but this isn’t ‘right after going off’,” he said using quotation marks. “It’s been nine months, which is longer than the six months he told us it might take. You’ve never been tired to the point you’ve fallen asleep at work before, nor have your medications ever made you sick. I think we should find out for sure. Either way, we need to know so we can call Dr. Fatma and get something for your muscles after the holiday. At least something that doesn’t make you sick.” He stood and put his hands on his hips.
I held mine up, “Okay, I’ll get a test after the holiday. I’m sure you’re just overreacting, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll do it.”
He held up his finger and strode to the walk in closet to the side of his dresser. He rummaged around in it for a few seconds and came back out, holding a box. I heard the sharp intake of my own breath when he presented me with the box of EPT sticks. “No time like the present.”
I scooted back on the bed a little and shook my head, “We should wait until morning. I think there’s some rule about doing pregnancy tests in the morning. They’re most effective then, yup, I’m sure that’s what they say. Good night.”
I tried to scoot under the covers, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me to a sitting position, his face in a frown. He’s the only person I’ve ever known who can frown with his eyes. “I’m pretty sure a few hours won’t make much difference. See,” he said, pointing to the writing on the front of the box.
I took it in my hand and read. ‘Can be used five days before your first missed period’. Fantastic, I guess my argument is invalid. I looked up into his face as he squatted down next to me. “Are you scared?” I nodded, giving the so-so hand. “Of what, baby?”
“That it will be negative, and that it will be positive.” My voice sounded loud in the quiet room.
