7. Willa
CHAPTER SEVEN
WILLA
A bright light in my eyes wakes me, and Ashlie’s voice whispers with Emily’s. I blink to see a couple of paramedics, in addition to the one blinding me.
“Hey, Willa,” the paramedic says. “Just lie here for a few minutes. When’s the last time you ate something?”
“Uh, this morning.” The blood pressure cuff on my right arm squeezes uncomfortably until a slow hiss of air eases out. I focus on the woman, lingering on her cornrows secured in a bun at the top of her head. Her name tag reads M. J. Thomas.
“Your blood pressure’s a little low. I’ll help you sit, then I want you to sip on something sweet.” M. J. calls over her shoulder,“I don’t think we need to take her in the rig, but I want her to be seen ASAP.” She helps me into a sitting position and types on a tablet.
My eyes sweep around my small studio—the lavender walls, the black and orange Halloween backdrop in the back, my tidy workspace in the corner.
Everything looks like it did before, aside from the four extra people.
Emily is talking with another paramedic at the counter now, sliding worried glances at me every few seconds.
I suddenly remember my last clients of the day and crane my neck to see the clock.
My heart pounds in my chest as I try to stand.
They’ll be here any minute, and I still need to adjust my lighting and filters.
“No, girl.” Ashlie comes toward me, carrying a can of orange soda and wearing her red director polo for the swim center. “Sit back down. Emily took care of everything. Your clients have been rescheduled. Just relax.” She squats and hands me the drink.
“What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t you write the employee handbook? Emily followed protocol and called your emergency contact.” Her eyes scan over me, eyebrows dipping with worry. “Good thing I’m just down the street. I beat the paramedics here. Why aren’t you eating, Wills?”
“I got caught up in editing.” I pop the tab and take a drink. It’s cold and fizzy but isn’t sweet. “And I haven’t really been feeling well all day. I think it’s the flu.” The next sip tastes like ass-tainted soap, and I scrunch my face. “Here, taste this.” I stick the can under her nose.
“Nuh-uh!” She juts her head back as she pushes the can away. “You’re not giving me the flu… What’s wrong with it?”
“It tastes like soap. And smells like sewage.”
Her lips scrunch, skepticism falling over her face. “I’m gonna take your word for it. Let’s get you to the doctor.”
M. J. and Ashlie help me stand, my vision fluttering as soon as I’m up. They hold me steady until the room settles, and I turn toward my desk to gather my things.
“Nope. Doctor.” Ashlie pulls me toward the door. “Emily will bring all your stuff to you tonight.”
“Ash, just let me transfer some files to my tab?—”
“No, Willa! You just passed out on the floor. Get in the damn car.”
I whip my head back to my sister. Her playful sass is gone, replaced by a furrow between her eyes and a hard set to her jaw.
Ashlie and I have been rebuilding our relationship over the last few years.
We’ve gotten to a good place for the most part, but when we disagree, heads roll.
Right now, though, with that look in her eyes, I think she’ll drag me to the car kicking and screaming if I try to challenge her.
And with the way I’m feeling, she’s likely to whoop my ass despite the five inches I have on her.
“Yeah, okay. Just let me grab my ba?—”
“Already got it, girl. Come on.”
“I just don’t get why they made me pee in a cup.
Watch, they’ll come back in and tell me it’s all in my head and ask if I’ve thought about losing weight.
” The rough paper crinkles underneath my legs as I shift on the rigid exam table.
I’m comfortable with my curves, but doctors never find it funny when I tell them thick thighs save lives .
No matter the illness, a woman can’t have any other ailments as long as she carries a little weight.
“They make everyone pee in a cup, Wills.” Ashlie doesn’t even look up from the magazine she’s flipping through while she chides me. She’s used to my ranting by now, but I can’t let it go.
“Not everyone. Every woman . And I told the nurse I just had my period.”
“Okay, girl. You march out there and tell the doctor how to do her job. I’ll wait right here.” Her head falls to the side, but that teasing look is back in her eyes.
“I’m just saying , doctors always think a woman is pregnant or fat. She can’t possibly have any other health problems. I didn’t eat enough today. Might be getting sick. I’m fine.”
“Whew. You’re fun when you get hangry. Here.” She hands me the crackers from my bag, and my mouth waters. “Eat these and calm your ass down.”
A quick double tap on the door after it opens is the only warning we have before the doctor comes in. Why even knock if you’ve already opened the door ? What if I was changing in here ? What kind of hospitality is that ? You knock, and you wait for someone to say they’re ready before you come in.
The tall Asian woman with graying hair slides the glasses from the top of her head and sets them on her nose. “Hello… Willa Willis?”
“Hi. What’s the point of knocking?”
“Willa!” Ashlie gasps, wide-eyed. “Sorry about her, doctor. The flu has clearly made her lose her mind…”
The doctor laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it. Moodiness comes with the territory. I’m Dr. Clifford. Are you comfortable discussing your results with your…” She gestures to Ashlie.
“Sister.” I nod, my face twisting quizzically. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Well, in that case, your flu should resolve in about nine months. Congratulations!” She hugs the clipboard to her chest, bouncing on her feet like she’s proud of her nonsensical diagnosis.
“What kind of flu is that?” I ask, glancing at Ashlie and back. Her mouth has dropped open as she stares at the doctor. It takes me a couple more seconds before it hits me.
Dr. Clifford tilts her head slightly. “You’re?—”
“Pregnant? No.” I scoff, batting away the completely ridiculous notion with a shake of my head. “I’m not.” My eyes search the doctor’s face for the joke. Ashlie put her up to this or something.
“Yep. It explains the fainting and your lowered blood pressure. Have you had any cravings? Weird tasting food?”
“No, because I’m not?—”
“Earlier she said her soda tasted like soap,” Ashlie says. I shoot her a wide-eyed threat. Narc .
“Ah, yeah, that can happen as hormones change. Cravings, altered taste, aversions. It’s all very normal for early pregnancy.”
“I’m not pregnant. I just had my period a week ago.”
“Mm-hmm, and was it lighter than usual?”
“I—yes…”
“How long did it last?”
“Just a couple of days. But my periods are always short.” My voice lowers each time I open my mouth with a rebuttal. The checkered vinyl flooring blurs as my eyes rove, searching for the logical response I’m supposed to have. None of this makes any sense, and yet, it’s crystal clear.
“That’s all perfectly normal. Egg implantation can cause bleeding. Do you have an established OBGYN?”
My eyes lock onto my sister, whose face has gone pallid as she stares back at me. Hands shaking, I nod numbly at the doctor.
“Great! Follow up with your provider. They usually want you to wait until you’re eight to ten weeks along. Do you know when conception would have been?”
“Yes,” I whisper. I know exactly when. My birthday, after a night of unforgettable dick.
I’ve tried to push all memories of that spontaneous night out of my head, as well as the man responsible for them.
That’s how a one-night stand is supposed to go.
You have an out-of-character, earthquaking, body trembling experience, and leave it there.
Trevor’s the only man I’ve been with in months.
He’s the only one it could be, and now, he’s responsible for so much more than memories.
“Good. I’ll let you gather your things. Just check out at the front desk when you’re ready.
And congratulations, mama!” The doctor closes the door, leaving me shocked and petrified as the weight of her words settles in around me.
Mama ? No . That title has no place in this room.
Mama is a woman back home, who’s disappointed in everything I do.
Mama is critical and callous. Mama is the only example I have of motherhood, and I don’t want to be anything like her.
I’m still clutching the bag of crackers, now pulverized from my grip as I tremble on the paper-topped table. My eyes track the cracks on the floor tiles. I almost forget I’m not alone when Ashlie touches my arm.
“Wills, is it Carter’s?”
“Huh? ”
“Carter. Is he the…?”
A tear falls down my cheek as I shake my head.
And then another. My breath hitches in my throat several times.
I can’t control it, nor the pressure in my chest squeezing tighter by the second.
Me , pregnant ? This can’t be happening.
I drop the crackers and knock my phone off the exam table, trying to catch them.
A solo trip to Europe . That’s what I’m supposed to be planning for right now.
Just me, my camera, and the breathtaking views overseas.
And now , a baby .
I look at my sister with wide eyes, and she smooths her hand down my back, saying something I can’t hear. My stomach heaves. The buzzing in my ears grows with the need to run and hide, but my body is trapped in place.
“Willa, hey. You’re panicking. Look at me.
” She boxes my head in her hands, forcing me to look into her eyes.
“Just breathe. Follow me. In through the nose. Out through the mouth…again. In…out. Good.” The calm in her stare is my only lifeline right now.
I don’t dare look away. She pulls me off the table and leads me to the sink.
Cold water flows over my fingers when she plunges them under the stream.
The room finally eases back into focus, but she keeps my hands underwater until my breathing slows.
Pregnant ? With a baby ?
Water flings in the air as I turn and cling to her, violent sobs racking my body.
“Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay.” She rubs my back, wrapping her comfort around me while I process how this could have happened. We were safe . We used protection . This shouldn ’ t be happening . I’m supposed to be saving for a once-in-a-lifetime excursion through Europe, not diapers and wipes.
Ashlie doesn’t pull away until I do, and even then, she keeps her hands on my shoulders. It only takes a few minutes for the tears to stop, but I still feel like I want to throw up. Because I’m fucking pregnant.
“Do you know who the?—”
“Trevor.” I glance at her, then the floor after I see the shock on her face.
“How dare you?” she whispers.
“Excuse me?” I scoff, pushing away to snatch my phone off the ground. “You have an entire fiancé. Why do you care?”
“I’m not mad about that ! Marry him for all I care. But how could you not tell me, Wills? We’re sisters.”
Taking a deep breath, I look up at the garish fluorescent tube lighting. “I don’t know. We were drinking, it was my birthday, and I just wanted to let loose for once. It wasn’t supposed to follow me out of San Diego.”
“Didn’t you use a condom?”
“We did, but I guess it broke…”
“Was it good? Do you like him?” Ashlie gasps and steps toward me. “Are you even going to keep the baby?”
“Of course I’m keeping the baby, Ash. Even if I have to do it on my own.
” As shocking as this news is, I have no question in my mind about that.
I’ve always thought I’d be a mom someday, I just thought it would involve a syringe and donor number 752.
Figured I’d raise a child like I do everything else, on my own.
I never imagined the other half of the equation being in the picture.
“You have to tell him, Willa…”
I know this. He wanted to talk the morning after but I blew him off, mostly from embarrassment.
Not that I regret our tryst; I don’t. I’m adult enough to acknowledge I enjoyed everything we did that night.
But morning has a way of putting things into perspective.
I didn’t want to make something out of nothing.
Now though, it’s a gigantic something that I absolutely need to talk to him about.
It wouldn’t be right to keep this from him.
“You won’t have to do it on your own, you know? Trevor won’t let that happen.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I snap.
Her eyes narrow as she sucks her teeth. “I’m blaming the attitude on hormones, but don’t think I won’t go off on you, Wills. You’re not that pregnant. ”
“Ugh, I’m sorry,” I say, my face falling into my hands. She’s right about Trevor. In the years I’ve known him, he’s always the first to jump in and help. As soon as I tell him, he’ll be all in. The perfect partner to lean on. But leaning on him—on anyone—that’s the part that has me terrified.