Page 19 of Not Our First Rodeo
Maybe it’s the pregnancy fatigue, or maybe it’s the mental exhaustion I always feel after a panic attack, but the truth falls out of me without my permission. “It was a panic attack.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and tangible, and my heart races as I wait for him to respond, to ask a thousand questions, to try to help.
But he just nods, and says, “Are you okay now?”
I blink at him in surprise, unsure of how to respond. Iwasn’tokay. I was dreading his response, and fear and regret were clawing up my throat at my accidental confession. But the way he didn’t press, the knowledge that I don’t have to explain my deepest secret on the cold ground outside of the doctor’s office, soothes something inside me.
So when I reply, it’s truthful. “Yes, I think so.”
He nods again. “Are you ready to go in or do you want to stay out here for a little longer? Or we can reschedule.”
I let my eyes drift to the mountains in the distance. I want to run to them and not go inside that office, not experience what I did the last time I was there, when I stared at an ultrasound screen, looking intently for a heartbeat that none of us could find.
But I also realize that running away isn’t going to stop anything bad from happening. Squaring my shoulders like I have a thousand times before—when it would be so much easier to let them curl in on themselves—and inhaling deeply, I say, “Let’s do this.”
Beau holds my gaze for a long time, warm brown eyes assessing. I don’t know what he’s looking for.
“We can go in,” he says finally. “But I just want you to know that we don’thaveto, and rescheduling wouldn’t make you any less brave.”
His words slice down into the most vulnerable places inside me, stealing my breath, but I refuse to let it show.Thisis why I asked him to leave three months ago. He can see all the pieces of me I’ve kept hidden for so long, even from him. I’ve never learned how to show someone everything, but somehow Beau sees it anyway.
I swallow against the lump clogging my throat and will my voice to come out strong. “Thank you, but I’m okay, really.”
Instead of answering, he stands and extends a hand to me. I take it, grateful for the warmth of his skin when mine has gotten so cold. Before I realize what he’s doing, he’s pulled me into a hug, enveloping me in his heat, and I can’t help but sink into it.
His lips press to my temple, soft skin and rough mustache. “You’re the strongest person I know, Elsie Jennings, even if you don’t feel like it all the time.”
The words feel like warm honey slipping down my spine, making the cold, dark places inside me feel like they’re thawing for the first time in months.
He pulls back before I can push past the lump in my throat to respond. Then he takes my hand and leads me into the doctor’s office. All the sour memories of this place come rushing back the moment we walk through the doors, and suddenly, I feel like I’m going to be sick if I have to talk to the receptionist. But to my surprise, Beau leads me to a seat and leaves to check me in.
I should protest, tell him I’m capable of handling it on my own, but I’m too tired to attempt it. Instead, I sink into the uncomfortable chair and allow my eyes to drift around the place. There are photos of local babies on the sage green walls. I recognize them as some of the kids of people Beau went to high school with. If things had played out differently, maybe our baby would be on that wall right now. It makes an ache stab in my chest.
Beau returns a moment later, sitting in the seat beside me. “All checked in.”
“Thanks,” I say, and I mean it. My hands are still trembling and my legs feel like gelatin. I’m not sure I would have been able to stand at the desk and accurately answer their questions.
He gives me a small smile. “No problem.”
His phone vibrates in his back pocket, and he pulls it out to check it, reading what’s on the screen before typing something back. I let my eyes settle on his hands, strong and capable, and Ithink about reaching for one of them, holding on to it and letting some of his steadiness seep into me. He’d let me hold on to him like he’s a pillar in a storm.
But before I work up the courage, a nurse calls my name, standing at the door that leads back to the exam rooms. I recognize her from around town, but I can’t think of her name.
My heart is pounding again. I feel it in my throat, in the backs of my knees, in the place between my eyes. We follow her through the doors, and she smiles at us warmly. But despite my best efforts, I can’t make myself return it.
“Let’s go ahead and get your weight,” she says, motioning to a scale up against the wall. Even now, when I’m not dancing, I still avoid looking at the number. It’s been years since my body image has been a major struggle for me, but you don’t grow up being told by dance teachers that they can see the lunch you ate through your leotard and just learn to accept everything about your body. I’d mostly grown to love mine and all the amazing things it could do before my injury and the miscarriage. Before I’d started to feel like it was betraying me. But in both stages, I avoided looking at the scale. I’d long since determined that that number was none of my business.
The nurse scratches something on her clipboard, and then we head back to the exam room. I sit down in an uncomfortably hard chair and fold my hands in my lap, desperate to hide the shaking. The nurse asks me a hundred questions that I already answered online.
“Is this your first pregnancy?” The question feels like a punch to the gut, and I can’t help but let my eyes drift toward Beau’s. His grieved expression mirrors what I guess mine looks like. It makes me feel oddly connected to him in this moment, takes the sting out of the answer just the tiniest bit.
“No.”
The nurse types something. “Any live births?”
I don’t move my gaze from Beau, soaking in his strong, steady presence. “No.”
She finishes asking her questions and then finally turns to face me. “There are cups in the restroom for you to pee in and a small door in the wall where you can place the sample. I’m going to head out for a few minutes.” She stands and opens a cabinet, pulling out a faded hospital gown. “Go ahead and change into this and get comfortable on the table. I’ll be back in a few.”
