Page 116 of For Wrath and Redemption
I nod. “Okay.”
She numbs my head with some sort of gel, but it’s unnecessary. I feel nothing except dread. She closes me up with two staples and explains how I need to care for it. She tells me that I’ll have to see a doctor in two weeks to get them removed. I nod through all of it, but barely hear any of it.
My thoughts are elsewhere, cycling over and over on the same things: I should have made him wear a condom. I should have made him pull out. I should never have slept with him in the first place. I cannot have a baby with Jonah Hendrix.
How can they tell so soon? How can this be possible?
I drop my head into my hands.
I’m so stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.
“Should I send your friend back in, or do you need a minute?”
I breathe in and out. I open my eyes and count the tiles on the floor. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave her out there. She’s going to know something is wrong. Do I tell her the truth? Do I lie?
I don’t know what to do.
“You can send her in.”
“A nurse will be back to collect the urine sample, and I’ll call with the blood test results. I’ll put a rush on it, so it should only be a few hours.”
“Thank you.”
Doctor Shirazi’s shoes clack across the floor. The door opens. She mumbles something to Mabel. Then Mabel walks in, shutting the door behind her.
“Oh my God, Claire. Are you okay? Did it hurt that bad?” Her hand comes down softly on my shoulder, then she rubs my arm. “You needme to get you anything? Some water? Did they give you anything for?—”
“I’m pregnant.” When she doesn’t respond, I sit up and look at her. Her eyes are wide. Her mouth is open. “Mabel. I’m pregnant.”
“Okay.” Slowly, she nods. “Okay. Yes. How do we feel about this?”
“Shitty.”
“Right. Do you know...Not that it matters, of course. But...do you...”
“It’s Jonah.”
“Shit.”
I snort out a sad, pathetic laugh that sounds more like a sob. “Yeah.” I drop my head back into my hands, careful not to catch my staples. “God, what the hell am I going to do?”
Mabel squeezes my shoulder. “Anything you need, let me know. I’ll get you anything you need.”
“Thanks.”
It gets quiet again, but the air is charged. It’s not a comfortable silence. I know she has questions. I sit back up and give her a tight smile.
“You can ask, if you want. It’s fine.”
She winces, then shrugs. “Was this, like, a one-time thing, or...”
“It’s...or.”
“How long?”
“Not long.”
“What kind of relationship is this? Like...Do you think he’ll be happy about it?”
