Brat (7 page)

Deciding to mind my business, I set the pretzels aside and tried to get back into my novel, hoping that reading about someone else’s erotic escapades could distract me from the sexpot across the hall.

I shot out of bed and dashed into the hall, just barely making it to the bathroom before emptying my stomach. I clutched the toilet as my belly heaved forcefully, causing my eyes to water and my throat to burn. By the time I was finished, I felt as if I’d been wrung dry.

Suddenly, something cool and damp touched the back of my neck and I sighed with relief, groaning as someone’s hand pushed the hair back from my face. I grimaced when I turned to find Chase kneeling beside me. He was pressing a wet washcloth to my neck and watching me sympathetically.

“Morning,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I heard you running to the bathroom and wanted to check on you.”

Geez. How am I supposed to avoid him if he’s here all the time, looking all hot first thing in the morning, saying and doing all these nice things?

“I’m okay,” I insisted, standing slowly on shaking legs. “Just a little morning sickness, I guess.”

Chase helped me get my balance before standing back, watching me with his arms crossed over his chest. “Can I get you anything?”

“You can move so I can brush my teeth,” I replied, staggering toward the sink.

His eyes widened. “God, you’re right. I’m so sorry. I’ll leave you alone now.”

I nodded, reaching for my toothbrush as Chase backed out of the bathroom and closed the door. After brushing and rinsing several times, and running a comb through my hair, I left the bathroom. Trudging down the stairs, I followed the smell of food. Amazingly, now that the taste of vomit was gone, I was starving.

“Make up your mind, kid,” I muttered to the thing living inside me. “Sick or hungry? ’Cause I can’t do both.”

In the kitchen, Christian and Luke were sipping cups of coffee at the small table that only sat four people. Jenn was slicing tomatoes and Chase was scrambling eggs in a huge, glass bowl. Pausing in the entrance to the kitchen, I surveyed the scene with interest.

“We cook now?”

Jenn smirked. “No,
we
cook. The last time we let you near the stove you almost burned the apartment down.”

“Is it my fault that macaroni and cheese box had the worst directions ever? I don’t trust Kraft. Never did, never will.”

“Well, Jenn mentioned heading to the cafeteria, but Chase offered to make omelets instead,” Luke said, standing and heading to the coffee pot for another cup. “We might as well enjoy the groceries now, because we all know by the time midterms hit, none of us will have time to shop anymore.”

“So I should expect organic everything, no meat, and probably some kind of healthy herbal crap in my eggs?” I griped, taking Luke’s vacated seat.

Chase made a face at me, his biceps bunching and rolling at he beat the frothy eggs. He wore a black T-shirt with a picture of Earth on it. In white letters beneath it, the slogan said ‘Stop destroying our planet, it’s where I keep my stuff’.

“Just because I don’t eat meat, doesn’t meant I won’t cook it for people who do, princess,” he retorted. “Ham or bacon?”

The smell of bacon frying made my stomach quiver. “Bacon. Lots of bacon. And load me up with onions and mushrooms, too. Don’t skimp on the cheese.”

“Bacon, onion, and ’shrooms. Extra cheese. Got it.”

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed as Chase turned back toward the stove. “I was here before Chloe, why does she get the first omelet?”

“Because she’s cuter than you,” Chase answered.

“Damn, I need to start using Oil of Olay,” he grumbled, leaning against the counter beside Jenn and snagging a piece of tomato from beneath her knife.

“Stop that before you lose a finger. You’re going to need all of those intact for Saturday night.”

Luke snuck another tomato. “The best songs come out of life’s little punchlines. I could write a song about it and call it ‘Bitches be Crazy, Cuttin’ off Fingers and Shit’.”

Jenn scowled at him. “Real catchy, Luke.”

He gave her one of his charming grins. “I thought so.”

Chase sat the finished omelet in front of me, and I immediately dug in, my stomach calming happily as I ate. Jenn turned on a second burner, helping Chase to get the eggs out faster. By the time the last omelet was made, I’d annihilated mine. Feeling much better, I left the kitchen, passing Kinsley on my way up the stairs. Wearing her Longhorns cheer top, a pair of sweat shorts, and sneakers, she carried her backpack on her back, and a gym bag in one hand.

“Hey, Kins, omelets in the kitchen.”

She produced an apple from her bag and flashed it at me. “I got breakfast already. I don’t have time, anyway. My first class starts in ten, then I’ve got a full day and cheer practice after. See you later!”

With a swish of her black ponytail, and a crunch of her apple she was gone. Seeing her so cheerful this morning only told me I’d been worried about her for nothing.

Once I made it to my room, I realized it was only nine a.m., three hours earlier than I usually get out of bed. I purposely schedule evening classes to stick to my strict schedule of sleeping in. I had the option of going back to sleep for a few hours, but was too wired and on edge to sleep. I took my time making the bed and getting dressed, spending longer than usual flat-ironing my hair and doing my makeup … which killed about an hour. By then, Chase had left for work, and Jenn, Luke, and Christian had gone to class. Alone in my room with nothing to do until my Magazine Production and Writing class at three, I was finally forced to act on the decision I’d made last night. Finding the phone number quickly through Google, I typed it into my phone before I could lose my nerve. When the friendly voice on the other end answered, I felt my heart drop down into the pit of my stomach.

“I need to make an appointment,” I said, my voice shaking as violently as my hands. I gripped the phone tightly and forced myself to say the rest of the words. “I need to talk to someone about having an abortion.”

Chapter 4

I stared out the window of Chase’s car as the city of Austin sped by me. Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans for at least the fifth time, I forced myself to breathe. The clinic was able to fit me in for a consultation two days after my phone call. When I’d told Chase about the appointment, I insisted he didn’t need to come, which only made him assert that he needed to be there.

“I promised to be there for you and I meant that,” he’d protested. “I’m taking you to the appointment.”

Even though I’d tried to argue him down about it, in the end I was glad Chase was there. I wasn’t sure how I would have driven myself when I couldn’t get my hands to stop shaking.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice like the boom of a shotgun in the silence of the car.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I nodded. “Yes,” I answered, my voice strained and clipped. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your new job. Did they give you crap about taking a day off so soon after getting hired?”

Chase shrugged. “I called in sick. No one wants a sick lab tech working over live specimens. The job I got is for a pharmaceutical company that specializes in natural and homeopathic remedies. We do studies to test the effects and outcomes of the company’s products, which get sold in health food and supplement stores.”

“Leave it to you to find the only pharmaceutical company in the world that meets your standards,” I snorted.

Instead of being insulted—I think he was used to my ribbing him, just as I’d grown used to his—Chase only laughed. “You’d be surprised. The industry is growing as people are slowly starting to wake up and realize all those chemicals they put into their bodies are killing them, not saving them.”

“Hey, some chemicals are naturally occurring in nature, right?”

“True,” he relented with a shrug.

“Then let’s not be so quick to paint them all as evil, because chemicals are responsible for this bitchin’ hair color.”

Chase observed me from the corner of his eye. “Nothing natural about that. What
is
your real hair color, anyway?”

“I’ll never tell,” I said with a wink. “As far as anyone else knows, it grows out of my head this shade.”

“Right, and your eyelashes are naturally that dark, long, and curly.”

“See? You catch on quick.”

“We’re here,” he said suddenly, turning into the parking lot of the women’s health clinic. The lightheartedness of our conversation had been a pleasant distraction, but now it all came screaming back. There was no avoiding it any longer.

This is the right thing to do,
I reasoned with myself.
What kind of life is this baby going to have with you as a mother?

I could see it now, a baby wearing Louis Vuitton onesies, in the arms of a live-in nanny while her mother jet set to New York, Paris, and Tokyo to follow her dreams of fashion journalism glory. As an alternative, I could drop out of school and get a regular nine to five to support the baby on my own, ending in a life of disillusionment and broken dreams. Hello, resentment, table for one? In either scenario, me and the baby end up miserable, and likely hating each other.

Reminding myself of that gave me the resolve I needed to get out of the car and put one foot in front of the other. Chase’s hand found the small of my back, gently supporting me as we entered the clinic, immediately swallowed up by soft, baby pink walls. What’s with that color anyway? Every women’s health clinic or hospital floor are always painted in this awful shade of soft, cotton candy pink. What makes them think women want to be constantly surrounded by the color? Being inside this building made me feel as if I was walking into a giant vagina.

After signing in, I was handed a clipboard and pen by a pretty dark-skinned receptionist sitting behind the counter. Her beads clicked at the end of her braids as she turned to gaze up at me with a pleasant smile.

“Please fill out these forms and health history,” she said. “The nurse will call you back shortly.”

The first forms were relatively easy: name, address, phone number, insurance information, etc. After that things got tricky. I paused with my pen poised over the paper, and frowned at the questions listed on the health history.

“What’s wrong?” Chase asked, noticing my hesitation.

I sighed. “I just realized I don’t know any of my family medical history.” I blankly stared at the numerous questions about what medical conditions my parents and grandparents might have had, clueless about how to answer them.

Chase frowned. “Nothing?”

I shook my head. “We don’t talk about that kind of stuff in my family. Illness is too personal and undignified.”

I avoided his gaze and the pity I was sure I’d find there. He patted me on the shoulder. “Just do the best you can,” he said gently.

Shrugging, I checked ‘no’ on every condition and hoped for the best.

The receptionist had been right; the nurse came quickly—the second I’d signed the last form. “Chloe Sanders?” called a short, chubby nurse in pink scrubs. Seriously, what was up with this ugly, Pepto Bismol pink? It was making me want to gag.

Chase and I followed her back to a small room, where the nurse took my vitals and asked me a ton of questions about my period, the pregnancy, and my own health history. After about a half hour wait, the doctor finally entered the room.

“Good morning, Ms. Sanders, and Mr. …”

“Watkins,” Chase answered, shaking the doctor’s hand. “Chase Watkins. I’m the father.”

The doctor, a balding man with limpid blue eyes, nodded in acknowledgement and sat in his rolling chair. “I’m Dr. Simmons.” He took up the file the nurse had left and quickly perused it, nodding at what he saw. “According to the dates of your last period, you’re about ten weeks along,” he murmured. “So, if you are sure you wish to proceed, we can have you scheduled for an aspiration as early as Tuesday morning.”

“I’m sure,” I said for what I felt had to be the hundredth time. Saying it again didn’t make me feel any surer, though. Nausea was worse today than it had been all week, and I was pretty sure the front of my jeans would be soaked soon from all the sweat I kept wiping off on them.

“Very well,” the doctor replied, reaching into a drawer and coming out with a stack of pamphlets. “These go over the aspiration procedure, as well as the risks and possible complications. I’ll go over those with you now, but these are yours to keep in case you have more questions.”

I flipped idly through the pages of the material, only half listening as the doctor droned on and on about the procedure, using scary words like tenaculum. By the time he got to the rare complications, which included blood clots and uterus perforation, I was choking back vomit.

“Before we can schedule you,” Dr. Simmons continued when I assured him I didn’t have any questions, “we’re going to need urine and blood to confirm the pregnancy and run some lab tests. If all your labs come back clean—and I have no reason to believe they won’t—then you can have this all said and done on Tuesday, as I stated before. The procedure only takes about fifteen minutes, but we like to keep patients here for recovery for a few hours after, just for monitoring to be safe.”

That was it? It only took fifteen minutes to end a pregnancy? It seemed like such a pitifully short amount of time, considering that making a baby took nine whole months.

“We’ll also need to perform an ultrasound and use a Doppler to hear the baby’s heartbeat.”

My throat constricted tightly and I gripped the arm of my chair tightly. “Can’t we skip that part?” It would be so much easier to do this without having to look at the baby or hear its heartbeat. Didn’t this doctor understand that this was hard enough?

“I understand the need for an ultrasound,” Chase said, finally speaking up, “but is the Doppler really necessary if she’s already decided to terminate? It seems cruel to subject her to that.”

The doctor gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s a new law in the state of Texas. The ultrasound and Doppler are now required at least twenty-four hours before the abortion can be performed. You can choose not to view the images of the sonogram, but you have to listen to the heartbeat, and I have to describe the sonogram findings to you.”

Chase shot to his feet, the muscles in his neck cording and stretching as his jaw tightened. “What the hell kind of law is this? Forcing women to endure an emotionally unsettling procedure is only exacerbating the pain of having to make the decision to terminate even worse. Who does that?”

Dr. Simmons stood as well, but remained calm as if Chase wasn’t the first person to go ballistic at the suggestion of the ultrasound and Doppler. “It is the law, young man,” he said in a gentle but firm tone. “One that this clinic, as well as any other in Texas, must abide by if we want to keep our doors open and assist young ladies like Ms. Sanders here.”

Placing a hand on Chase’s arm, I joined them on my feet. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “Whatever we need to do.”

The doctor nodded and returned to his desk, scribbling a few notes in my file. “The nurse will be in shortly to take your blood and urine for the labs. Once she does that, you can go to the front desk and schedule your ultrasound and the procedure. We can do the ultrasound on Monday, and the aspiration on Tuesday.”

“Yes, thank you, Doctor.”

He left us alone after that, and while I found my seat again Chase began pacing the exam room “It’s not right,” he seethed. “They shouldn’t be allowed to do this to you.”

“You heard the doctor, it’s the law,” I insisted. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes it is,” Chase countered. “Do you honestly think having to listen to that baby’s heartbeat is going to make it any easier for you to go through with this?”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised. Texas is the huge, shiny buckle on the Bible belt. I can get through it, Chase, I’ll be fine.”

Sighing, he came toward me, deflated. He knelt in front of me, his large hands enfolding my small ones. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I guess I’m not helping much either. I just want this to be as easy for you as possible. I know you didn’t make the decision lightly.”

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

“I’m going to answer your question with a question,” he said, his fingers tightening around mine. “Do
you
think you’re doing the right thing? Because I already told you where I stand on this.”

I nodded, resolute. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I do.”

“Then that’s all I need to know.”

The weekend now loomed before me, long and tortuous. Luckily, I had plenty of things to keep me occupied. Aside from a pile of homework, there was the first game of the Longhorns football season against North Texas, as well as a string of parties and Luke’s band’s performance at Hole in the Wall. After my only Friday class, I returned to the apartment to find Kinsley lying in bed with the covers pulled over her head. Frowning, I stared down at my cell phone. It was only six-thirty.

“Kins?” I whispered, prodding her shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

Usually, Kinsley spent her Friday afternoon at cheer practice, after which she promptly returned to the apartment to get a jump on her weekend homework. Saturday was always game day, and she wanted her head clear so she could cheer without worrying about homework. It wasn’t like her to come home and just fall into bed. I could see one of her feet poking out from beneath the blanket and noticed she was still wearing her cheer sneakers. Also very unlike my neat freak roommate.

Groaning and shifting, the mound beneath the covers refused to emerge. “Leave me alone,” she mumbled.

Rudeness is also very unlike Kinsley. “Are you sick or something? I have some cold and flu tabs in the medicine cabinet if you need them.”

“I don’t need cold and flu tablets,” she said, her voice muffled by the blanket. “What I need is to sleep and for you to leave me alone.”

“Okay, fine. Sorry,” I snapped. I didn’t know what was going on with that girl, but I had enough of my own crap going on without having to deal with her attitude. Leaving my backpack on the floor by the bed, I turned and left the room, bumping into Christian in the hall.

“Hey, what’s eating Kinsley?” he asked, his bulky body blocking the stairway. Wearing his Longhorn jersey and those delicious football pants that make his thighs look like tasty treats wrapped in Lycra, he toted his practice helmet under one arm.

“I have no idea,” I answered. “Why, did she bite your head off, too?”

Christian nodded. “All I did was ask her to vacate the bathroom. I know you girls spend a lot of time in there, but she was pushing it.”

“I’ll try to get Jenn to talk to her,” I said. “Something is going on with her, and Kinsley won’t talk to me about it.”

“That might be best. Meanwhile, you’ve been acting weird. Me and Chase are still settling into each other as roommates, but I’m getting strange vibes from him, too. Something going on with you guys?”

I ran a hand through my hair, avoiding Christian’s gaze. “Not anymore,” I told him, not bothering to try to lie about what happened on the island. When I didn’t come home that night, everyone knew I was with Chase. “Look, we had a thing and it’s over.”