Someone rolls a cart through the opening in the curtain. “I’m Nicole. I’m here to do your ultrasound.” She gets set up. “I need you to lie back and put your feet in the stirrups, like you do at your annual exams.” She squirts lube on a long steel rod. “Just relax. This won’t hurt.”
Relax. Not likely. I’ve never been so tense.
She works the wand around inside me and keeps hitting buttons and moving a mouse thing on her computer.
“What is all that?”
“I’m taking measurements. They’ll tell us how far along you are.”
I close my eyes, and my head falls back onto the pillow. “So there really is a baby?” I practically choke on the words.
“Look here,” she says. I open my eyes as she points to the screen. “This is the heartbeat.”
“It’s already got a heartbeat? How pregnant am I?”
“I’ll finish with this, and the doctor will be back in to talk to you.” She does some more typing and moving, then removes the wand thing and hands me a tissue to clean up. Then she gives me a small black-and-white photo. “This is yours to keep.”
I turn away. “I don’t want it.”
“The photo?”
“The photo. The baby. None of it.”
“Uh… the doctor will be in shortly.”
I’ve never seen someone leave a room so quickly. The photo is on the table. I lean over and take a look. I can see the outline of its head and abdomen, and there are stubs where its arms and legs are. How can it be so fully formed already? It’s surrounded by darkness in the shape of a kidney bean.
Dr. Kallem appears. “Well, Ms. Dunlop, you look to be about nine weeks pregnant. That makes you due on February fourth.”
“Nine weeks? That’s impossible. I wasn’t even having sex then.”
“Pregnancies are dated from your last menstrual period, not from the time you had intercourse. Actual conception would have occurred around April twenty-eighth.”
That’s the night I lost my virginity. I’m speechless.
He hands me some literature. I glace through it. Pregnancy, adoption, abortion. I put the brochures down on top of the photo, feeling sick again.
“Nicole said you were having doubts about the pregnancy. While you should see an obstetrician as soon as possible, I want you to know you have choices. Unplanned pregnancies can be shocking. Take some time to absorb it before making any decisions. Someone will be in with your discharge papers shortly. Do you have any questions?”
My head falls back against the pillow again. “Yeah. How is this my life?”
He touches my shoulder. “This isn’t the end of the world. Sometimes these unexpected surprises can turn out to be the best thing that’s ever happened.”
He has no idea how wrong he is. I’m the last person in the world who should have a baby. With my past, I’m not even sure I’d be allowed to keep it. I don’t know why, but I laugh. I laugh until I cry. He pats me again and leaves.
“I need another minute,” I say to the nurse with the discharge papers. Aaron is out there waiting for me. I can’t let him see me with red eyes and a puffy face. “Can I get some ice, please?”
“Of course.”
I hold ice cubes under my eyes for ten minutes, willing myself not to cry anymore. Then I fold the pamphlets and stuff them into my back pocket and slap on my best smile before walking into the waiting room. “All ready.”
“You’re good? What did they say happened?”
“That the heat got to me. They ran all kinds of tests. Said I’m totally healthy and can go.”
He hugs me. “I’m so relieved. I was sure you had a concussion after what Andie said. They had you back there for so long.”
“They hooked wires to my chest and took blood and stuff. I had to wait a long time between each test. Can we go now, or do you have to do more paperwork?”
“It’s done. Don’t worry about it.”
“I feel so stupid. Please tell Maddox I’ll pay the bill. I probably have enough saved.”
“That’s your money, Dev. Besides, DHR is a business. They have insurance for things like this. Workers get hurt all the time. You aren’t the first one to visit the ER this year, and you won’t be the last.” He opens the door for me. “Let’s get out of here. I hate hospitals.” On our way to the truck, he asks, “Are you hungry? Do you want to stop for food?”
“I’d like to go home and relax. Go to bed early. The doctor said with heat exhaustion, I shouldn’t push myself to do anything else today. You can just drop me off and finish helping at the stable.”
It’s a total and complete lie, but I can’t be with him right now, knowing I’m carrying his baby—a baby I can’t possibly have. What am I going to do?
Back in my room, I hide the pamphlets in the drawer with my journal. I just want to sleep and wake up when this nightmare is over.
Chapter Twenty-five
Aaron
“It’s been two days,” I say to Andie. “Devyn has barely gotten out of bed. She hasn’t even come to see Mickey, and we all know that’s one of her favorite things to do.”
“I’m telling you, heat exhaustion can take it out of you. Could be she was close to having heat stroke. And with the unseasonably hot weather we’re having, could be she’s hesitant to have it happen again.”
I want to tell her it’s more than that. Devyn is pulling away from me. This may have more to do with her past than her fainting. “She seems depressed.”
“Let me go see her. Sometimes talking with a girlfriend is easier for women.”
“I don’t know. Give her a day or two.” I hop in my truck.
“Where are you off to?”
“Have an errand to run.”
I pull up the address on my phone. Even a congressman’s house is easy to find if you dig hard enough. It’ll take an hour to get there. That gives me time to figure out what I’m going to do.
I remember the first time I went to see Cameron’s parents after he died. It wasn’t at the funeral, because I didn’t go thinking I’d not be welcome. It wasn’t until almost a year later, after they’d tried calling me a hundred times. I never listened to the messages. I couldn’t face them. I thought all they wanted was to find out about his last night. His last moments. Was he in pain? Was it fast? Did he know he was dying?
Even after a year, the pain was still raw. And if it still was for me, it would be a thousand times worse for them. But when I finally made myself go to their house in Dallas, what happened was far from what I imagined. I stood in front of the door, sweating, but when they opened it and saw me standing there, they pulled me into their arms. We stood and cried together. When they invited me in, the first thing I saw on their bookshelves was a picture of Cam and me. Me, the guy responsible for their son’s death, displayed prominently in their living room.
His mom made coffee. His dad brought out photo albums. We talked and cried and laughed about Cameron’s adventures. I begged for their forgiveness. They said there was nothing to forgive. It was a terrible mistake, one they blamed on the culture of the university, not me. They’d heard the stories. Read the testimony from the others who were there. Cam wanted to participate. He wasn’t forced into anything. He wanted to join a fraternity so bad, he was willing to drink himself to death. And I was the one handing him the bottle.