Page 191 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“Let’s just focus on Sinners and Saints,” Dante paused, letting out an impressed sound as he pulled away from the curb and accelerated with ease. The Cayenne was delightfully responsive.

“Smooth, right?” I sent him a lop-sided grin. He didn’t suffer from the ‘boy racer’ bug as I did, but Dante could appreciate a good drive and my Cayenne was agooddrive. “Can we stop to get something to eat on the way to work? I can’t believe I passed out like that. Thishouse hunting thing is stressing me out.”

Dante’s sidelong glance accompanied his terse words. “We’re not going to work, Madi. We’re going to A&E.”

His face was set in an obdurate mask, and even though I felt better now, a small part of me was concerned. Fainting? That wasn’t me. I was working too hard, not taking care of myself.

“I don’t like A&E, Dante.” I grumbled.

The expression on his face softened slightly. “I know, but we should go. You passed out twice.”

“Because I’m exhausted,” Came my reminder. “And we missed breakfast.”

Dante sighed and that was the end of that. He had control of the steering wheel after all….

“Well, your blood pressure is low at the moment,” The lady doctor efficiently undid the strap from around my arm.

“We missed breakfast.” I looked at Dante, his attention was on the doc.

She smiled with a nod. “That could be a factor, you might be anaemic.”

I nodded too, but quickly defended myself. “My diet is good though. Really healthy, no junk food.”

Dante twisted his head in my direction, the squint around his eyes was a tell-tale indication my words weren’t wholly truthful. “She’s never fainted before.” he blabbed.

“We’re dancers, ballerinas.” I blinked prettily at the doc. “Well, technically I’m a ballerina and he’s a ballerino if you’re talking old Italian style. If we French it up then he’s a danseur and I’m a danseuse. Gendered titles are tricky. Ah, we have a production opening in two days.”

She glanced at Dante and tried to hide her surprise behind a professional smile then turned back to me. “That sounds interesting,”

I nodded again. These NHS doctors were really working on their doctor-patient interaction, even though this was the busy A&E department I didn’t feel like a number. I did feel bad for taking up their time though, even promising to go see my GP later on in theweek hadn’t dissuaded Dante from his intention to bring me here.

“So just a few more general questions, then we can run some tests to see if you’re anaemic.” She spun towards the computer, clacked a few keys before asking, “You’re not pregnant at the moment?”

A dry laugh escaped my lips. “Um, no.”

Dante rolled his eyes.

“When was your last menstrual cycle?” she queried.

“Uh,” I chewed my lower lip, suddenly drawing a blank.

She gave me an encouraging smile, one of female solidarity. “It’s ok if you can’t remember the exact date. Was it within the last four weeks? I just need a general timeframe.”

“Um,” I leaned forward in the chair, really biting my lip now. “I’m not sure, um, you see my cycle is a bit weird. I mean, it can be irregular, it’s always been that way,” I shrugged. “Sometimes it’s that way with dancers. It,” I chewed my lower lip again, searching my brain for the answer. When last had I bought tampons? “It began coming regularly when I started taking the pill last year,” I scratched behind my ear now, still wracking my brain for the memory of my last period. “I’m not pregnant.”

She just smiled and nodded.

I looked over at Dante. “I’m not.”

‘I know.’he mouthed back silently.

“There’s no chance,” I relaxed against the chair. “Unless it’s the immaculate conception,”

We all chuckled. To my ears it sounded forced.

“I’ve not had sex since September!” I blurted out nervously, once again leaning forward. Imusthave had my period recently. Things were so hectic with work, with my life, that it must have simply slipped my mind.

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