52. Opal
FIFTY-TWO
Opal
A fter our silent drive home, Alex pulls into my driveway, and without a word I open my passenger side door and slam it behind me, not bothering to watch as he drives away. Anger and resentment simmers beneath my skin, heating my entire body.
I don’t know who I’m more angry at, him or myself. Maybe I should have let it roll off my back and kept trying to enjoy the free vacation, but at this point in my life I’m just tired. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay when I’m not, and it’s becoming harder and harder to pretend.
Just when I thought I might be getting over it, ready to leave our past behind us, I’m right back where I started. This just proves what I already knew, I can’t let it go. And as much as I want to, I can’t trust Alex.
“You’re home already?” My mom calls out to me as I walk past her towards the front door. She and Mamaw are sitting on the porch together drinking tea.
“Yeah.” I don’t wait around for the rest of the conversation that’s sure to ensue. Instead I collapse onto my bed and finally let out the tears that have been threatening to fall ever since we left Crystal Cove.
A throbbing headache blooms in my head suddenly, causing me to wince and shut my eyes. “Fuck,” I say out loud under my breath.
I guess I have a migraine coming on. I experienced one years ago, but I don’t remember it coming on so suddenly like this. Great. Another fun pregnancy symptom, I’m sure.
I crawl out of bed to retrieve some Tylenol from the kitchen, praying it’ll do something to take the edge off of the pain. Once I’m balanced on my feet, tiny dots dance around my line of vision and I have to blink a few times to focus my eyes. What the hell?
Slowly, I make my way out of my room and pass by Mamaw and my mom in the living room.
“You okay, honey?” My mom’s face is twisted into a concerned expression that isn’t normally there. Typically our relationship is closer to what I’d assume sisters have, or maybe an aunt and niece. We love each other, but I’ve always viewed her more as a friend than a parent.
“Yeah, fine. Just have a horrible headache.” The last thing I want is to rehash this morning’s events with them. Now that it’s all said and done, I’m a bit embarrassed by the way I reacted, but not enough that I want to apologize to Alex. What would be the point anyway?
“I thought you two would stay down there longer than one night?” Mamaw says, the kitchen wall separating us now as I pick through the medicine cabinet.
“I wasn’t feeling well.” It’s close enough to the truth.
My mom walks into the kitchen behind me, and softly lays her hand across my forehead the way she used to when I was a little girl. It’s vaguely comforting. “Do you think you’re getting sick?”
“No. Just a migraine. I feel a bit dizzy too, I think I’m gonna go take a nap.”
“You’re dizzy?” Her voice is laced with concern, and it puts me on edge for some reason.
I swallow the pain killer and wash it down with water. “I mean, a little. I’m fine, Mom.”
“How many weeks are you now?”
“Twenty.” The answer comes automatically because even though it’s not something I constantly talk about, I do check my pregnancy apps religiously, so I always know how far along I am.
She looks me in the eyes, worry etched into the lines of her face. “Mom,” she calls out to Mamaw who’s still in the living room. “How many weeks was I when I was diagnosed with preeclampsia?”
Pre what?
“I don’t remember.” My grandmother hobbles into the kitchen, holding tightly onto the walker that we’ve finally convinced her to start using. “Do we need to bring her in?”
“Whoa, what? What are y’all talking about?”
My mom sighs and sits down in one of the chairs beside our kitchen table. “When I was pregnant with you I had high blood pressure, it started with severe headaches and blurry vision. Then my body started to swell up. I had to be put on bed rest and then they had to do a cesarean to deliver you.”
What the actual hell? Just when I thought pregnancy couldn’t get any more exciting. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you or stress you out. Just because I had it doesn’t mean you will, but I think we should at least call your doctor and let them know how you’re feeling. It can sometimes be very serious.”
My stomach churns and suddenly my breathing feels weak and shallow. I’ve already been feeling anxious about giving birth, but this takes it to a whole new level. I can deal with the pain and discomfort, but I just want my baby to be okay, that’s all I care about.
I’ve struggled with anxiety my entire life. Since I was a young child, I’ve felt like I was waiting for something terrible to happen. Standing on the precipice of disaster every day.
Even that didn’t prepare me for the anxiety that consumes you when you’re about to have a child of your own. Worrying about your own safety and wellbeing takes the backseat, and your brain is clouded with debilitating thoughts of every possible thing that could go wrong.
“Okay.” I walk back to my room, my hands shaking as I pick up my phone. What did I do wrong? I’ve tried my best to stay healthy during my pregnancy, I don’t understand why this would happen.
I google the doctor’s number and tap it, but when the receptionist answers I freeze. Panic grips at my throat and the combination of anxiety along with the dizziness I was already experiencing is too much for my body to handle.
“Opal?” My mom grabs the phone from me and quickly leads me to the couch, forcing me to sit down.
“Hello? Yes, my daughter is a patient at your clinic, she’s pregnant and she’s experiencing dizziness and a headache.” My mom’s voice sounds muffled. I close my eyes and try to take deep breaths, but with every breath I just feel more afraid and helpless.
“We’ll be there soon. Thanks.” She hangs up and both of them look down at me pityingly. I hate this feeling.
“It’s going to be okay, the nurse told me that we should go in for a check up.” She lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it gently. “I’m gonna pack a small bag just in case we need to stay over.”
I nod and continue breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, finally the panicky feeling is starting to subside, but my head is still killing me.
“It’s going to be okay, darlin’. They’ll make sure you and that baby are both safe.” Mamaw gives me a reassuring smile and pats my knee. “I’ll make sure of it.”