Page 115 of For Wrath and Redemption
I nod. “Yes, ma’am. I was on the treadmill.”
“Have you eaten today?”
“No, but I usually don’t before I work out. It gives me cramps.”
I force a smile and try to hide how my defenses rise.Look innocent, I tell myself.Look healthy.
Act like you’re in control.
I know I shouldn’t, but I make excuses anyway.
“I adhere to a pretty routine diet and exercise program, actually. This is the first time this has happened.”
I don’t elaborate by saying I know exactly how many calories I consume and exactly how many I have to burn off every day. And while I’m sure the return of certainhabitshas put a strain on my body, I don’t admit to them. I just smile and shrug. The sooner I get out of this hospital room, the better.
“Maybe it’s from all the traveling? I’m not used to so much time on a plane.”
Doctor Shirazi runs her eyes over my face, and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck rise. She turns to Mabel.
“Ma’am, can you step out for a moment, please? I’m going to close the head wound.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll just be out here.”
I can hear the concern in Mabel’s voice. I can feel her eyes on me as she leaves, but I don’t take mine off Doctor Shirazi. A prickle of awareness skirts down my spine, triggering my fight or flight response.
She knows.
I try not to panic. I work to keep my breathing regular. She’s going to prod me with questions. She’ll want to know about my eating habits. My medical history. My mental health. I’m already formulating the lies. The excuses. But when she speaks, they all disappear from my mind, leaving me speechless.
“Ms. Davis, when was your last period?”
I’m stunned. I shake my head. I blink and try to recall it. I close my eyes and think. My periods have always been irregular, and that’s only been exacerbated recently. I can’t think of my last period. I have no idea when it was.
“I’m on birth control.”
“What method?”
“The pill.”
“And do you take it regularly? Same time every day?”
I start to nod, but then I stop. I do. Or I did. But I haven’t. Not with the traveling and the time zones and the stress. And not only have I not been consistent, with the vomiting...
I clamp my eyes shut.
“Shit.”
“Ms. Davis, is it possible you could be pregnant?”
I shake my head.No. No. No.It’s not possible. It cannot be possible.Then, slowly, I nod.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I take it this wasn’t planned.”
“No.”
“I’m going to close your head wound, and then I’ll send a nurse in to take a urine sample. We’ll also run your blood. Just to be sure.”
