17. Chapter 17
Rhett
I’ve put this off my entire life because, well, ignorance is bliss. But right now, my biggest fear is looking me dead in the eyes, and I have to man up. I have to do it for the baby and for Aspen.
Her wanting to come causes a nervous stir in me. I’m scared of how she will feel once she hears the doctor explain it all. But mostly, I’m afraid of how she’ll look at me after. Will there be pity pooling in her pretty brown eyes, or worse, fear?
I run my hands through my freshly washed hair a few times as if that will help the onslaught of anxiety. Grabbing my hat from my bedside table, I throw it on and head to the front door before I bail altogether.
When I pull up to Aspen’s house, I realize I barely remember the drive. So lost in my thoughts that I think I did the whole thing on autopilot.
As soon as I walk up the steps, the front door swings open.
She greets me with a smile that makes a wave of calm wash over me, slowing my racing thoughts and heart.
I take a second to appreciate her. Her long brown hair is curled with the top half pulled up.
My fingers itch to sneak a strand of her hair between them to feel its softness.
“Good morning, how are you feeling? Are you nervous?” She steps out of the front door and surprises me by wrapping her arms around me.
I wonder if she knows that I’m losing it.
That I’m so fucking scared to face this, to get the answers I’ve been avoiding.
And the only reason I’m doing it is for her and our baby.
I debate whether to put up a brave front.
She knows me well though, and would see right through it, so I opt for honesty instead. “Terrified.”
She pulls back, leaving one hand sprawled across my back. “I’m proud of you for facing it anyway. I hope our baby has your courage.” Her gentle smile makes a swell of tears rise.
Blinking rapidly to hide them, I smile back at her. “I’m not brave; if I was, I would have done this years ago.”
“Give yourself some credit.” She rubs the hand still on me up and down in soothing strokes. “And thank you for letting me come.”
“I don’t think I could have done it without you.” The admission slips from my lips before I can stop it.
“Well, let's get this over with.” She slides her hand from my back down my arm and to my hand, giving it one squeeze before walking past me to the truck. The feeling of her skin on mine, her hand in mine again, is the kind of joy I needed today
The nagging thought that I will end up ruining it all soaks up the joy, replacing it with another round of worry.
If this goes badly, I’ll need to update my will and make sure everything goes to Aspen and the baby.
Probably should get her on my bank account, too.
Even thinking about steps I will need to take has me feeling so damn overwhelmed.
“Stop overthinking. I can hear those gears turning from here. If you keep going, you're going to have steam piling out of your ears."
“I’ll try and stop thinking so loud,” I mock, hoping to get a laugh out of her. Would hate to anger a pregnant woman before we’re stuck in the car for an hour and a half together. Her ability to make a heavy situation feel better with her sense of humor is one of the many reasons I’m drawn to her.
“Or you could just talk about your feelings.”
I scoff. “I would rather sit butt ass naked on the asphalt in summer, thank you.”
“You cowboys are all the same. No one is in touch with their sensitive side.”
“You don’t give me enough credit; I cried when you made me watch Titanic,” I argue.
The one benefit of our messing around being a secret is that she couldn’t tell anyone I ugly cried.
It was mortifying enough to do it in front of her.
I’m used to being pretty damn collected.
I don’t let my emotions fly in front of anyone.
But with her, every single brick life has placed around me crumbles into dust.
“Ah yes, fond memories,” she jokes as she turns to me when we reach the truck, but I see the way her face falls as she recalls the memory, and now I’m overthinking that. Fuck, my head is a mess.
I swing open her door and close it behind her. This will be the most time we’ve spent together since she ended it between us. I’ve visited plenty, wanting to make sure she feels supported, but I don’t know where the boundary lies, so I only stay for an hour or so and leave.
I soak up every minute of the drive sitting next to her, enjoying her laugh as she scrolls on her phone. Not being able to help myself, I peek over every time I hear it just to see that smile flash.
Sooner than I’d like, we pull into the parking lot of the hospital.
It’s the biggest one in Wyoming and the only location with a specialist in Muscular Dystrophies.
While not entirely uncommon, this isn’t a common diagnosis.
The amount of time I’ve spent scouring the internet for glimpses of hope that maybe I'll come out of this unscathed.
Worse, when I found out about the baby. The instinct to protect was instantaneous.
As we hop out of the vehicle, Aspen doesn’t wait for me to open the door; she hustles around to my side, ready to be my rock.
“Alright, you’re one step closer to answers.
No matter what we learn today, it’s going to be okay.
” She holds out her hand for me to grab, and I shouldn’t hold on to it, but I do.
I allow myself to be weak for today, because I need her.
She’s my anchor in this storm, holding me grounded when the unknown wants to throw me into despair.
The check-in process is seamless and within minutes we are pulled to the back, with an endless amount of questions about family history and questionnaires from the nurse.
My fingers nervously tap against my leg as I sit in the chair. I hang my head to keep my eyes out of Aspen’s sight as I squeeze them shut. My heart gallops so hard behind my chest, it feels hard to breathe, like this room is going to close in on me.
Two taps on the door pull me from my spiral. The door swings open and Dr. Macintosh walks in. “Hello, I’m Dr. Macintosh. Rhett, it’s great to meet you.” He holds out his hand for me to shake. “And who do we have here?”
“I’m Aspen,” she pipes in with a smile, holding her hand out to shake. It’s nice having her here. She does this sort of thing for a living.
“Nice to meet you. Rhett, are you comfortable with us discussing all of this in front of her?”
“Yeah, we’re actually having a baby and I think it would be good for her to learn all about it,” I pause, “just in case.”
The doctor gives a knowing nod. “That’s a great thought.
I’m not sure what you know as far as gene passing goes, but BMD is linked to the X chromosome, meaning you can only pass it to a daughter, making her a carrier.
Even then, it’s incredibly rare that she would manifest any symptoms. If you have a son, they will not have BMD because you would have given the Y chromosome.
The only way this is passed is when a mother carrier passes the mutated X chromosome to a child. It’s a 50/50 shot.”
Aspen lets out a huge breath, as if a wave of tension has finally been cut loose. “I had read that, but it was a little confusing for me. So what does that mean for Rhett?”
“That means his mother is a carrier. Based on the paperwork you filled out, it looks like her dad had a positive diagnosis, yes?”
I nod, words not yet found.
“Do you by chance know how old he was when he started showing symptoms and when it progressed?”
I clear my throat, not wanting to deal with the embarrassment of a crack. “Yeah, he was about sixty when symptoms started showing; it progressed pretty rapidly. My mom became his caretaker a year later, and he was gone six months after that.”
The doctor nods, his face solemn. “I am really sorry your family had to go through that. It’s a brutal disease, and I wish there were better treatments available. But research is changing every day, so I want you to keep that hope.”
He goes on a long discussion about the disease and testing after asking questions about my day-to-day life.
If I find myself having a hard time picking up my feet, if I can’t grip things the same.
I’ve been so overly aware of my body since this happened with my grandpa.
Every muscle cramp caused my brain to go into overdrive, thinking this was it.
Symptoms can appear at any time and are different for everyone.
If I woke up sore two days in a row, I was sure that was it.
It never was. I’ve had no symptoms so far.
“So, we have a couple of options since you are asymptomatic we can do just the CK, which is short for creatine kinase, it’ll tell us if you’re showing any signs of muscle damage that might not be presenting themselves yet, or a DNA test, but since you’re not showing any symptoms, we can tack that on later if you test positive on your CK test.”
“I want to do both today, if possible.” The words fly out of my mouth the second he finishes his spiel.
“Are you sure? The DNA test is quite expensive and we can always do it after the CK results.”
“I need to know.” This constant flow of background thoughts keeps me occupied all day, keeps me from living, and I can’t do this anymore. I feel like I lose a piece of myself every day to the worry and I don’t want that for me.
“Okay, I understand.” He turns to his laptop, types for a few seconds, and then turns back to us. “The nurse will be back in to draw some labs. Before I go, do you two have any questions?”
“You actually answered all of mine, even the ones I was too afraid to google, so thank you.” Aspen smiles and sits a little straighter.
Our baby will not have BMD. If it's a girl, she might be a carrier, but she will never have to watch herself slowly disintegrate, and that’s a relief Aspen and I both share.
“How long does it take for labs to be back?” I ask.
“CK should only be a day or two; if the receiving lab is backed up, maybe a week. The DNA test is about a month or so. It has to be sent to a specialty lab. I’ve seen them come in as short as two weeks and I've seen it take two months.” My stomach drops at that, and I feel my muscles tense up.
“It’s really important that you know that just because it’s taking longer doesn’t mean you’re testing positive.
It just means the lab is busy. I know this is nerve-wracking.
But we will be here to help every step of the way.
” He holds out his hand for me to shake.
“How are you feeling?” Aspen asks as soon as the door closes behind the doctor.
“I feel okay. Our baby is safe, and that’s the biggest relief. I’m not sure if I could live with that,” I admit.
Her gaze softens, and damn it if it doesn’t make my heart swell. “It wouldn’t have been your fault either way, Rhett.”
I nod, because she’s wrong. It would still have been my fault for not being more responsible.
The nurse pops in a few minutes later and draws a few vials of blood.
We walk out of the hospital in silence, both lost in our own thoughts.
Mine are mostly lost on the girl beside me and what our future is going to look like.
The road I want and the road I dread are so close together that I can’t differentiate them anymore.
I want to protect her, but this might be the one thing I can’t guard her from.