36. Scarlett
Scarlett
I’m quiet the entire drive to the doctor’s office.
Arms crossed, head looking out the window.
I want it to be very clear that I am not speaking to him because I am not happy with him.
But Morgan doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he and Donovan are talking the entire way about some financial speed bump they’ve hit at the resort in Tahiti or somewhere.
“For the record, I am here against my will,” I say when Seb pulls up to the curb. “And I am contacting HR after this.”
“Sounds great. I’m sure they’ll love that your boss actually took care of you during a travel job. Health benefits. Such a monster,” he says, and I sneer at him before he hops out and rounds the car to open my door.
“You’re not coming inside,” I tell him.
“I wasn’t planning on it. I have to do a conference call. But Seb will be walking you in and he will also walk you out. So don’t get any AWOL ideas,” he says.
“You are such a pain sometimes,” I say, stomping off towards the doors.
It’s not that I want to be difficult. I’m not sick, and I know I’m not sick. So as soon as the doctor, a lovely woman in jogger scrubs with a huge grin, walks in to evaluate me, I blurt out the reason for my visit.
“I’m pregnant,” I tell her.
“Congratulations, that’s wonderful!” she says, but I don’t smile.
“No, I mean, that’s why I’m here,” I say.
“Are you having pain? Bleeding? Concerns about being pregnant of any kind?” she asks.
“You mean aside from the fact that the father was a complete stranger that I had a one-night stand with only to find out that he would later be my boss who I would travel the world with sharing hotel rooms and pretending to be engaged so his brother doesn’t sue him out of house and home?”
The words spew out of me with as much gusto as the vomit from earlier. I am so embarrassed that I break down crying.
“Oh, honey,” the doctor says, taking a seat next to me on the bed table thing instead of her designated doctor roller chair.
“I’m sorry,” I say as she hands me a tissue.
“Why are you sorry?” she asks.
“Because that was a lot.”
“It is a lot. But not for me. For you,” she says, rubbing the palm of her hand over my back in a circular motion. And honestly, I don’t know if that makes it easier or harder.
“And what does your baby daddy boss think of the pregnancy?” she asks, and I actually crack a smile at her attempt to be funny. Which, in itself, is kind of funny because I was in no mood to joke with Morgan earlier. But Morgan is a man. The doctor is a woman, a woman who seems to understand me.
“He doesn’t know,” I admit, and she nods. No questions asked. She just simply nods.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we do an ultrasound, confirm things and check on things and give you peace of mind that you and baby are okay. And then we can talk about resources and options. Counselors and things like that.”
“Okay.” I nod. Because I don’t know what else to say. Yet her baby step method in dealing with my crisis is helping to calm my nerves a little. No pun intended.
I’ve seen enough movies to know how this works. I put on a gown; I pull the gown open; they squirt jelly on my stomach; they turn the lights down, and the doctor runs the wand over my belly, making a whirring sound.
“Well, I have news for you, honey,” she says.
“I’m pregnant,” I state.
“Yes.” She smiles. “Yes. You are very pregnant.”
I sigh. “I figured those bright pink lines don’t lie,” I say.
“Were they? Bright, I mean,” she asks.
“Oh yeah. Glaringly so,”
She nods. “I’m not surprised.”
“Why?” I ask, my eyes narrowing as I think about her words.
Very.
Not surprised.
I turn to the screen in an attempt to decipher it. “What am I looking at?” I ask.
“Well, this is the sac, this is the baby right here,” she points out.
“And what’s that?” I ask. “On the other side of the screen.”
“That is the baby, too. Baby B, to be exact.”
“Baby…B,” I echo, realizing that there are two of everything. And the term Baby B means there is a Baby A.
“You’re having twins, honey,” she says, moving the wand around like she does this every day and it’s nothing new. Maybe she does do this every day, but I do not. I’ve never even been pregnant before, let alone with twins.
“Cheese and rice,” I let out, and I can’t tell if I am going to cry, be sick, or pass out. Maybe all three.
* * *
After the doctor’s appointment, I let Morgan know that everything is fine.
The office was kind enough not to give out any information other than a possible stress-induced stomach bug.
They give me a prescription for prenatals, and I tell Morgan it’s just an anti-nausea med.
Then we go back to the hotel where I proceed to demand that I can go for a walk on the beach alone.
Morgan reluctantly agrees, but considering I literally have doctor’s approval for such activities and he has another conference call, he agrees.
Thank goodness.
I need time to think. To reflect. To cry if I need to.
Laugh if I need to. Talk to myself if I need to.
I cross the length of our private beach, and my thoughts are swirling so much that I cross over to the public side without realizing it.
It isn’t until I see a mom with a few kids playing in the sand that I even realize there are people around me.
“Excuse me,” a little girl says, stopping in front of me and looking up at me with eyes bluer than the water itself. “Do you want a seashell?”
“Oh,” I say, suddenly surprised by the sweetness of the gesture. “Sure.”
She hands me one, and I smile down at it, turning it over in my hand.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell her. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”
“I’m sure,” she says with confidence. “My sister and I have already collected bunches. But you don’t have any. So you can have that one. Actually…” she rummages around in her bucket. “You can have two.”
“Two,” I say with a smile. “I suppose the first shell might want a friend.”
“Or a twin,” she says, and my eyes flash to her as my heart drops in my chest.
“A twin?” I ask.
“Yes. Like me and my sister,” she says, and suddenly, another little girl walks up to us.
I swallow hard and force a smile again, though it’s not fake. Just…surprised.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I’ll take these back to my hotel with me.”
“And you’ll keep them forever?” the sister asks, and I blink back tears.
“Yes,” I say, looking down at the two identical shells in my hand, all while my other hand caresses my belly. “I’ll keep them forever.”