Page 45 of Abel

Whore!

I haven’t seen or spoken to my mother since she left. She didn’t even come to my grandmother’s funeral when she passed away, and that hurt more than her leaving me ever could.

‘Don’t cry for me, baby.’ I can hear my grandmother’s voice as if she were right there with me. ‘As long as you’re here, I don’t need anyone else in this world, my sweet baby.’ She hummed. ‘But you need that boy over there just as much as he’ll need you. Be there for each other… Always.’

And with those last words of wisdom, she died, surrounded by the two people who loved her most in the world.

Camden was the boy she spoke of, and he was there… Every step of the way.

Enter Travis into the equation, and you had a bond that could never be broken. They’re the very best of friends a girl could ever ask for.

I’m not sure why I’m sitting here, thinking about all that while I wait.

It’s the wait that has me thinking.

Glancing around the waiting room, getting more depressed with each passing second, I don’t admire the interior.

A rather putrid gray color that does not instill happy thoughts into anyone’s mind is painted across the walls. There should at least be a red accent wall to draw even the smallest slither of happiness from the occupants, but it does nothing to dull the way you already feel.

Magazines litter the coffee table sitting directly in front of me, Moms-to-be, Parenthood, and Women’s Day are all strewn on top. Funny for a primary care doctor’s office.

Nothing against pregnancy and all, but they can have it. I don’t plan on starting a family until I’m maybe thirty years old, fully invested in my own art gallery, and have a man that cherishes the ground I walk on.

Leaning over, I pick up one of the magazines and start flipping through. I see picture after picture of mommies with their bellies on full display while their younger kids cling to their legs, looking up at them with so much love, it makes me smile.

“Well, doesn’t this cuteness overload make my ovaries hurt?” I whisper.

It does, but not enough for me to go out there and get pregnant, but just enough for me to want kids down the line.

“Miss Huntington?” I hear someone call my name.

Placing the magazine back on top of the others, I rise from my seat, plaster a smile on my face, and walk over to meet the person looking around for me.

“Hi. I’m Miss Huntington.”

Extending her hand out to me, she says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Natalie.”

Placing my hand in hers, I answer, “Thank you.”

“So, what brings you in today.” She asks, moving at a pace that’s hard for me to keep up.

“Originally, I had a stomach bug that just didn’t want to go away. Now, I’m convinced it’s never cleared up because I’m sick a lot, but instead of losing weight, I’ve gained like seven pounds.”

“Interesting. When was your last menstrual cycle?”

“I haven’t had one in a few years since I started this new birth control.”

She flips some papers on her chart. “Ah, yes, I see that right here.” She clicks her pen, “Tell me about your other symptoms.”She leads us to an exam room, motioning for me to hop on the exam table.

I do it with a little struggle, but once I’m situated, I fill her in. “Fatigue, sensitive boobs, which always happens when it’s that time of the month without it being that time of the month if that makes sense.”

“Absolutely.” She says, silently nodding for me to keep going.

For the next few minutes or so, I tell her what else has been going on as she takes my temperature and vitals. In the midst of all that, she takes out a sample cup. “I’m sure you know the drill.” Rolling my eyes, I shake my head yes. “Goodie. Bathroom is down the hall to the right. Pee in the cup, leave the sample in the little doorway over the toilet dispenser, come back here and Bethany will be in to take some blood. When was your last PAP?”

“Seven months ago… I think. I have it in my calendar.” I say, going to fish it out when she stops me.

“No need to have an accurate date, I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t within the last month or so.”

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