Chapter 48
FRANKIE
“Well, that was an eventful morning,” I say to Sloane when I go back inside. “I’m going to take a nap, and then I’m going to drive to campus later.”
“What time? I might go with you.”
“Depends, I told Logan I’d get checked out. I need to get a birth control prescription anyway, so I might as well see if I can get a Student Health Center appointment instead of going to urgent care.”
“Okay, keep me posted.”
I crawl back into bed, aching from my near miss and the way I threw myself off the bike. I ignored it for a few hours, but now that I’m alone in my bed…it was scary.
I should have told Logan that.
It’s a drumbeat that repeats in a loop on my head. I can’t believe he bought me a car.
“He bought himself a car that I’m going to use for a few months,” I whisper out loud.
But it’s still…
I swipe a tear that crawls down my face.
Puffing out my cheeks, I ignore the sad feeling looming inside me, and I go online to book an appointment. I grab one at the end of the day, by which point Logan will be on the ice.
I schedule a text to let him know that’s booked when he wakes up from what will be, at this point, a thirty minute nap.
Then I flip over to the text chain I have with my mother.
She hasn’t sent me anything in a few weeks.
I don’t even know what I want to say.
I was almost hit by car today. I wasn’t, though. I’m fine. But someone else worries about me so much he bought me a car immediately, and if Dad finds out, he’ll find a way to ruin this for me. And I don’t think you’ll understand how devastating that would be for me.
I miss you.
I wish you had taken care of me once upon a time so this doesn’t feel so uniquely profound that Logan is taking care of me now.
I hate how vulnerable I feel right now.
I’ve always been emotional and hot headed, but the last two months it’s been a level up in that regard, and I think it’s because I’m falling for Logan on more than one level, and deep down, I’m afraid of losing him. Not because of him, but because of my past.
And I can’t live like that.
Tears streaming, I type so fast I make typos, and have to keep deleting and re-typing, but I finally get a series of messages out.
Frankie
I’ve met someone important to me
He’s so special, and I’m afraid to tell you and Dad about it
I don’t expect you to understand why I’m scared, but at some point, you might learn about my relationship and I want you to know that I did think about telling you directly, and I decided not to because I need to protect my heart
I wish things were different between us
And then I mute notifications, because however she replies, I don’t want to read it immediately.
I need a nap so badly that when I close my eyes, I immediately slip into a heavy sleep.
When I wake up, I drink a big glass of water before checking my phone.
No response from my mother.
A heart from Logan. Well, that’s as clear a message as I need.
I have a shower, which helps a bit to unknot my tense back, then I get ready to leave.
Sloane comes along as my passenger for the first drive. When we cross the intersection where my bike got mangled earlier, I shiver.
I’m not going to pretend that I’m not glad to have this car right now.
After I drop Sloane at the hospital, I park in the student lot and make my way to the student health center in the middle of campus.
The receptionist scans my student card. “Reason for your visit?”
“I, uh, had to jump off my bike this morning to avoid being hit by a car, and I’m getting pretty stiff. Also, I want to ask about birth control.”
“It’s usually one issue per visit, but I think you’re her last appointment of the day, so just be quick.”
“Yeah, I will, thank you.”
She slides an orange-lidded specimen jar across the counter. “Pee in this cup. Put the cap back on and leave it on the shelf in the washroom over there before you come back here to be called in.”
After I take the midstream sample, I’m shown into a clinic room.
An alert on my phone tells me Logan’s game has begun.
My brain is holding a little space for that, and also thinking ahead to the overnight shift I’m shadowing tonight.
I’m going to be so tired in the morning. I didn’t really sleep long enough, but—
“Ms. Wilson?” The door swings open and a friendly-looking nurse practitioner comes in. I haven’t seen her before but I don’t come here very often.
“Hi. Yes.”
“I understand you were in a motor vehicle accident this morning?”
“No. Just adjacent to one. I almost got hit by a car, but I jumped off my bike and just strained some muscles, I think. I’m pretty sore.”
“You definitely weren’t hit the car? And did you hit your head on the concrete?”
“No, I was pretty lucky. I really just wrenched something in my back. I’m only here because my—” I swallow hard. “My husband is worried about me. He’s on the other side of the country.”
“Understandable. We’ll do a physical exam in a minute. But first, your other question was about birth control?”
“Yes.”
“So you aren’t currently trying to conceive.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m very newly married, and my husband is moving to California this summer. I’ve been meaning to do this for a month, so this is really just two birds, one stone.”
“Ah.” She takes a quick breath. “Well, I’ve got the results of your urinalysis, which we do before prescribing any birth control, and given the reason for the appointment, I understand this may be a shock. Your hCG levels indicate that you are pregnant.”
I stare at her. “Excuse me?”
“Is there a chance that you could be pregnant? When were you last sexually active?”
My mouth drops open. Snaps shut. “Last month,” I say dully, blood roaring through my ears. “And a month before that. But we used condoms—”
Except that time in the middle of the night, when Logan pulled out. And the alley…oh God.
“January fourth.” My voice sounds so distant. “That’s probably the conception date.”
“And have you had any bleeding? Anything that resembled your period, maybe?”
I flush. “I don’t track that very closely. Stress sometimes makes my period disappear.”
“Are you under a lot of stress right now?”
Well, I’m married to a hockey player who is playing really well despite being in a bitter feud with my father, and they might go on a deep playoff run together. I go for the explanation that a doctor is likely to understand. “I’m a fourth year medical student.”
“That’ll do it. Where are you hoping to match?”
“Here. Emergency Medicine.” My voice shakes.
“Okay. Good luck with Match Week, by the way. So…that conception date would put you at eleven weeks.” She scans my face. “That’s in the first trimester, if you want to consider your options.”
I nod. “I might want an abortion, yes.”
“I’ll get you some information about that. Change into a gown and I’ll do a quick physical exam as well.”
“Thank you.” After she leaves the room, I strip down to my socks and underwear, then stare down at my midsection. “What the fuck, body?”
I haven’t had a single symptom. It’s a miracle that we decided to do dry January after our blowout night at Breakaway, and that spilled into sober February and I just haven’t felt like beer in March.
I’ve been too tired.
And a little nauseous.
Okay, maybe I’ve had some symptoms, but in my defence, they’re also common symptoms of being three months away from graduating medical school.
I feel lightheaded now. Is that a pregnancy symptom?
Or is it just a sign that I’ve recklessly blown up my life in a new and completely foolish way?
When she comes back, she sets two pamphlets down on the desk, then she quickly sanitizes her hands. “You probably know the drill here, but I want to look at your eyes and listen to your organs.”
I smile at her, although it’s a challenge, since I still feel stunned. “My roommate did this all this morning.”
She laughs a little. “Medical students.”
“Sorry.”
“No, I’d do the same thing. Take a deep breath and hold. Good, and again.” She pats the exam table. “Lie down for me.”
After she gives me the all clear, she hands me the pamphlets she brought in. “Here are the details about terminating the pregnancy.”
“If I’m not sure…”
“Totally understandable. Until you do make a decision, I would encourage you to follow the standard prenatal guidelines. Which means avoiding alcohol and recreational drugs, among other things. The second sheet also lists medications that are considered safe in pregnancy if you need something for your back. But honestly, rest is the most important thing for recovery when it comes to muscle injuries like this.”
Standard prenatal guidelines. “I, uh, am shadowing an interventional radiologist tonight.”
“Oh.” She nods. “You’ll need to tell them that you’re pregnant. They’ll give you appropriate PPE to wear.”
Shock still ringing in my ears, I mutter a thank you as she leaves, then I stumble through getting dressed again. I clutch the pamphlets until I get outside, then I remember that I have my backpack and I drop heavily onto a bench so I can shove them in the main pocket.
Crap.
Crap crap fuck crap.
I pull out my phone.
It’s only halfway through the first period. I won’t be able to talk to Logan for two hours at least. And by then I’ll be into my shift overnight.
I think about how angry he was when he showed up at our house that first night in January, how disappointed that I’d run away instead of talking to him about the problem in front of us.
I didn’t know then that he could be trusted with my fears.
But now I do.
For the second time today, I do a big emotional dump into someone’s text messages. It’s hard, but it’s real, and unlike with my mother, I know that no matter how shocking or hard it is for Logan to read them, he won’t be mad at me for being human.
Frankie
I went to the health clinic
I’m fine (my back is a bit fucked but everything else is fine)
I also asked about birth control and they do a test first before they prescribe that
(There’s no easy way to say this)
I’m pregnant
I’m sorry to drop this and go, but I have a shift that starts before your game ends
I’m thinking about my options and I hope you’re okay with that
I’m sorry if this upsets you
I’ll try to call you tonight on a break
Oh fuck, you’re flying to Boston…let me know when you get to your hotel?
I’m sorry, again, I know it’s already been a crazy day