24. Chapter Twenty-four
24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
July
Present Day
It was a full twenty-four hours before Samantha’s bottom began to itch. At first, it was just a slight discomfort that would ease with a simple adjustment in her seat—but it quickly grew to more than that. It wasn’t so much the itch but the location that was the most troublesome—because she couldn’t find relief with Tristan in the next seat. She glanced at him now, resisting the urge to grind her teeth against the newfound annoyance. “Can you pull off at the next stop, please?”
He made a face, then peered at the itinerary that sat open in the space between them. “I thought we weren’t stopping again until North Platte?”
She clenched her jaw, then pulled in a deep breath before speaking again. “I have to pee.” There. It was the perfect excuse; one she would thank Renee for repeatedly the next time they talked.
“Again?”
She pressed her hands into the seat, lifting her whole body off the cushion. “Yes!” she practically yelled. “Yes! I need to pee! A baby is literally sitting on my bladder! I need to go to the bathroom.”
He didn’t say another word after that and pulled off at the next exit.
As soon as he came to a stop in the mini-mart parking lot, Sam bound from the truck before he even had time to put the truck into park. The friction between her thighs was so intense that she wanted to scream as she yanked the door open and searched for the bathroom. She waddled down the hall, then cursed under her breath as she read the sign. “See attendant for key.”
Back at the counter, she leaned against the surface and braced her legs apart. “Can I get the key to the restroom, please?” She gritted her teeth, not wanting to alert the entire store of her bodily needs.
The woman glanced up from her phone, looking no older than eighteen, and blinked—but said nothing.
“Your restroom. Can I get the key, please?” Sam said again, using all her patience as she leaned a little closer, thinking this girl may be hard of hearing.
The attendant popped her gum, waited another five seconds,then passed a large red paddle across the counter. “Try not to make a mess,” she said before lowering her eyes to her phone again.
“Thank you!”
Fumbling with the lock, Sam opened the door, stepped inside, then slammed it closed and locked it. The bathroom was stark white and uncomfortably hot, but it was clean enough. A single toilet, a sink, and a small metal vending machine lined the far wall.
She yanked down her pants, grateful to be alone so she could get a good look at the damage. “What the heck!” She cringed. Red bumps covered her bottom from her lower back to mid-thigh. Her first thought went to her encounter with the deer, when she’d fallen into the leaves—but then her mind flashed to the little white flowers on the forest floor where she’d peed.
White flowers; rash. She entered the term into Google on her phone.
Poison ivy was the first return.
“No…” She shook her head. “No…” That couldn’t be possible. She knew what poison ivy looked like. “Leaves of three let it be,” she said aloud. But then she thought back to the flowers and couldn’t quite remember what the leaves looked like. As hard as she tried to imagine them, she couldn’t remember what their leaves looked like. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit.” She braced her hands on either side of the sink and looked into the mirror. She had no idea what to do. She was in a gas station bathroom in the middle of Nebraska, and she was pretty sure she had poison ivy all over her ass.
She thought briefly about texting Tristan and asking for help, but she couldn’t bear it. She took her cell phone off the counter and settled on the next best thing.
Samantha: Hey! I have a problem.
Renee: I’m here.
Samantha: Do you know any home remedies for poison ivy?
Renee: Where in the world did you run into poison ivy?
Samantha: I’ll tell you later. Can you help?
The three dots lingered on the screen for a good minute before Renee answered.
Renee: Did you ask Tristan? He was a Boy Scout…
Sam took a deep breath, knowing full well she’d have to come out and say it.
Samantha: Can’t tell Tristan.
Renee: Why?
Samantha: Because I peed in the woods, and I don’t really want to tell him I have poison ivy all over my ass.
Renee: O
Renee: M
Renne: G
Renee: You’re kidding.
Okay, now she was being dramatic.
Samantha: Can you help me or not!?
The phone rang, and Samantha answered it. “Hello?”
“You have poison ivy on your VaJayJay.”
Sam groaned. “I love you too! And no, it’s not on my—look—did you call to make fun of me, or are you going to help?”
“Okay, okay…” Renee said. “Does it hurt?”
“A little. It mostly itches.”
“Are there blisters?’
She craned to look. “Not that I can see, no.”
“Okay, whatever you do, don’t scratch. Scratching will make it spread. Where are you?”
“I’m in a gas station restroom.”
“Ohhhh Samantha…” Renee started to giggle.
“Ren, this is not the time,” she said between clenched teeth.
“Okay, okay.” Renee quickly sobered. “Have you tried putting cold water on it?”
“Water?” she asked, turning on the faucet. “Will that help?”
“I don’t know. Google says cold compresses. I’m guessing cold water would be the next best thing.”
Sam eyed the sink, wondering how in the world she would maneuver this. “Hold on a sec.” she said, placing the cellphone on the dryer where she put it on speaker. She then removed her shorts and hung those on a hook with her purse.
“Okay,” she said, glancing around the bathroom again. There were no paper towels in the restroom, and the closest thing she could find was the toilet paper dispenser that released one or two sheets at a time. Opting for the fill and splash method, she hoisted one leg to the top of the sink and turned the faucet on full blast. “I really hope this works,” she said to Renee.
With an inward breath, she filled her cupped hand full of water and splashed herself. Once, twice, and then again. She felt like a complete idiot, and hoped to God the lock was secure because she could only imagine how crazy this would look if someone walked in on her.
“How does it feel?” Renee’s voice came through the speaker.
Water ran down Sam’s thighs, soaking her white Vans, but no relief came to any part of her nether regions. “I don’t think it’s working.”
“Is the water cold enough?”
“As cold as I can get it.”
“Is the heat all the way off?
“I have no control over the temperature, Ren.”
But then Tristan’s voice came from the hall. “Everything okay?” he yelled through the door.
Sam quickly turned; eyes wide as she focused on the deadbolt.
How long had she been gone? “It’s fine!” She twisted the faucet handle. “Everything’s fine,” she said a little more calmly, but even to her own ears, she sounded panicked.
“Who’s that?” Renee’s voice came again.
Sam snatched up the phone and placed it on her ear. “Shhhh,” she whispered.
“Was that Tristan?” Renee asked, holding back laughter. “Did he come looking for you?”
“The attendant said she was worried,” Tristan said again. “You’ve been gone a long time. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Sam’s eyes glimpsed her reflection in the mirror. One leg hoisted up on the sink of the mini-mart restroom, pregnant and pant-less. “All is well!” she croaked. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Placing her foot back on the floor, she spun around, cursing the fact that the restroom floor was completely drenched. “That didn’t work!” she whispered through clenched teeth to Renee. “Any other ideas?”
That’s when she spotted it. The vending machine against the wall. It was filled primarily with the normal bathroom necessities. Tampons, pads, condoms…but there was something else that caught her attention. “What do you think about lip balm?”
“I mean, I like it,” Renee responded.
“Do you think it will work?”
“It’s moisturizing. I think it’s worth a shot.”
Sam waddled over to the machine and bent sideways to read the ingredient list: shea butter, cocoa butter, essential oils. “It says it’s organic. Do you think I should try it?”
“Sure…it’s not going to hurt anything.”
Grabbing her purse, Sam fetched out her wallet and counted out exactly eight quarters. Exactly enough. She never had change, let alone quarters. This was fate. She was sure of it.
She placed the coins into the slots one at a time, twisted the knob, and waited for the pale green tube to fall into the basin. Without hesitation, she opened the cap, rolled the lip balm to the very top, then squished it in her palms until it was paste. She smeared it onto her backside and thighs, only stopping when a waft of peppermint hit her nose. “Wait,” she said, turning the tube over to read the label: Minty fresh! Feel it working.
Pregnant and pant-less in a mini-mart bathroom, her bottom began to burn. She would have crumbled to the floor with defeat if she wasn’t worried about germs. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut and whispered into the receiver. “Bad idea. Call Tristan. Tell him to bring me a towel.”
“I have good news and bad news,” the doctor said an hour later as Samantha pulled the paper gown over her knees. “It’s not poison ivy. You must be having an allergic reaction to something else you’ve come into contact with.”
Her backside still burned from where the doctor had given her a shot, but not nearly as much as her pride. She couldn’t get the image of Tristan out of her mind as he stormed into the restroom to save her. He looked frightened, but also a little like Superman.
“You okay?” he’d said as he swooped her up in a towel and carried her out of the bathroom.
“Yes.” But her teeth were chattering. Out of fear, or embarrassment, she wasn’t sure.
“You should have called me,” he’d said when he set her in the truck and fastened her seatbelt. “You should have told me.”
Renee must have filled him in on the phone, and for that Samantha was eternally grateful.
“Will the shot do anything to the baby?” Sam asked, trying to keep her voice from reflecting how worried she was. She must have done a bad job, because Tristan was instantly at her side, gently squeezing her shoulder. She felt mortified that he was there, but grateful for his support at the same time. She wasn’t sure what she would have done without him. How long would she have stayed in that bathroom without pants on?
“Your baby is fine,” the doctor stated. “The steroid was a very low dose. It’s perfectly safe at this stage in your pregnancy.”
Tristan had been quiet for a long time, but now he shifted beside her.
She felt like a failure. She had one job. To keep this baby safe and she couldn’t even manage that. The doctor cleared his throat and turned his attention to Tristan. “Did you have a question, Mr. Smiles?
Tristan met his eyes. “Yes, sir,” he said, responding to a name that wasn’t his own. “I was just wondering where the closest hotel is.”
The doctor tore a prescription from his notepad and handed it to Samantha. “I’m sending you home with an antihistamine cream. Apply it liberally to all affected areas and get some rest.” Then he turned his attention to Tristan before pivoting his gaze to the darkened window. “You’re not from around these parts, are you?”
“No, sir.”
The doctor smirked but his eyes shifted to Tristan for a second time. “The fair’s in town,” he stated.
Tristan shook his head. “We won’t be going to the fair, Sir?—”
“No, no.” The doctor laughed. “The fair is a big deal ‘round these parts. People travel hundreds of miles. You’ll be hard pressed to find a room tonight.” His drawl lost all humor.
Samantha’s heart raced, and she glanced over to Tristan. But then the doctor paused and took a business card from his back pocket. “Here. Ask for Gloria,” he said, handing the card to Tristan. “Tell her Dr. Andrasian sent you.”