Each time when we take pleasure in being utterly immersed in our own private bubble, whether it be mini-vacations or national holidays, I’m always left bereft, and needing to readjust when we have to leave our seclusion and return to normal, daily life. I wish we could stay in our own little bubble forever…even as he pulls his strong, protective arms around me, and I inhale his woody scent, the bubble forms and holds us in the center of its universe.
I know I shouldn’t complain, not after he closed the firm and I basked in his undivided attention for two full weeks over Christmas and New Year…my ever-generous fiancé.
A secret smile dances its way across my features as I recall Christmas with his family and how they welcomed me with open arms. Well, apart from Berkeley––if I see that brat in a hundred years it will still be too soon.
Inhaling deeply, I ponder over how we made love in the heated pool on Christmas night, when Dana insisted we stayed. My back resting against the tiles as Hayden pinioned me in the far corner, my legs bound around his hips, my arms knotted around his neck as he held me close. The diamond-shaped lights in the wall illuminating beneath the surface of the water, as only the sounds of splashing and cascading water from the mini water-falls mitigated our strenuous breaths, which ricocheted through the darkness, while we fulfilled a fantasy and made love under a blanket of stars with Mt. Tam witnessing our exploits.
I glance down at my watch, but the faint glow emitted from the television isn’t strong enough for me to distinguish the time. Seriously, why do people always insist on watching horror movies in the dark…it’s unpractical.
Drawing my arm back, I recover my cell that sits on the arm of the sofa behind my head. The screen illuminates with a bright-white light. 9:00 p.m. Unable to alleviate the aching, nauseating feeling, I decide that sleep is the best option.
“Okay both, I’m going to bed.”
“Okay, sweetie,” Jessie drags herself from Matt’s arm then pushes herself up from the shimmering rug. Offering her hand, she helps me unpeel myself from the mould my body has left behind in the couch.
As I stand, the world stops yet my mind remains moving. I stumble and my ears ring as the unexpected gush of blood courses around my body. The sudden pressure in my head exhausting me of any strength I had left. Feeling my soup beginning to rise from my stomach, I pull the neckline of my pink camisole up to cover my mouth.
In an attempt to steady me, Jess places her hand on my upper arm. “Hon, pause the movie; I’m going to help Sammy into bed.”
Matt nods and searches blindly for the control. “Night, Sam.”
“Night, Matt,” I retort docile through the material of my vest, and begin to stagger my way into my room with Jessie clutching at my elbow.
“Jess, can you please do me favor?” I carefully perch myself onto the edge of the bed, precautious not to make any sudden movements that will send my stomach orbiting.
She nods, and I hand her my cell.
“Can you send a text message to Hayden? Just tell him I’m calling it a night and I will ring him in the morning, and that I love him.”
Slipping between the sheets, I snuggle down on my side and shut my eyes, as I make an effort to force the increasing bitter taste back down to my stomach. Raising and bending my legs, I make myself as insignificant as possible.
An ex-bulimic that hates being sick…ironic wouldn’t you say?
My subconscious sneers. I shake my head dismissively and make a vulgar hand gesture toward her.
I pull the comforter up to cover my mouth.
“It’s all done, sweetie.” I hear her place the handset onto the bedside table. “Goodnight, Sammy,” she finishes and places a kiss on my forehead. With a delicate touch, she combs her fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp in restful motions.
I attempt to say goodnight, but my mouth no longer wants to be cooperative. Each caring stroke of Jessie’s fingers through my hair sends me deeper and deeper. Before I know it, I am drifting into a deep, peaceful sleep.
It feels as though I have literally only just closed my eyes before the buzzing of the alarm pulls me from my slumber with its aggravating sound reverberating through my room.
My eyes remain closed as I blindly and erratically lay hit after hit upon the bedside unit, eventually hitting the clock with shattering force. Silence…finally.
As I lay my arm back onto the bed, a wave of apprehension knocks me off my feet, as I contemplate stepping into the fourth day of nausea. I eventually flutter my lids to be met with growing shadows dwelling in my room and spanning my walls as the sun graces the sky and peeks through my diaphanous lilac curtains.
Gathering the comforter around my body, I grudgingly heaving myself up and throw my face in the palms of my hands before fisting them through my unkempt mane.
“Please, please let me have a better day than yesterday.” My supplication is slowly shadowed by the discerning feeling of the bane of my nausea lying dormant. Locking my hands in prayer, I tip my head back and thank the ceiling.
Hastily kicking the comforter off my body, I haul myself out of the bed and head into my bathroom to let the unpleasant, grim feeling that clings to my body, swirl down the drain.
Within minutes I am showered and dressed. Unwilling to cope with the vexing sound of the hairdryer, I sweep my near black, sodden locks in-between the fold of the material and begin rapidly toweling before passing the brush through it and pulling it into a bun.
“That will have to do for today,” I hiss at my reflection and toss the brush to the side as I begin exiting the en-suite and pass through my walk-in-closet back to my room. Taking long strides towards my dressing-table in my black, waist-tie Jersey dress, I free my black patent, heel pumps which lie under the foothold and step into them then apply a scarce amount of makeup, just enough to lessen the ghost-like paleness.
“Good morning, sweetie. Coffee?” Jessie offers as I appear from the hallway that houses my bedroom. She holds up the pot of onyx, bitter-smelling liquid.
“No thank you, Jess. But I’ll attempt a glass of water though.” Her green eyes widen with blatant cynicism. I
never
turn away my morning coffee, but the rich, full bodied aroma is stirring the unwelcomed, stomach-turning sensations.
Setting the pot back, she pulls out a tumbler from the upper cupboard and fills it under the faucet. “Are you going into work today?” she places the glass onto the breakfast bar.
“I was going to. But that coffee has just turned me right off.” I slip onto the cold surface of the barstool and take a warranted sip of water. I’m grateful for its coldness as it freezes the climbing, bitter taste in its tracks. Placing the tumbler back onto the counter, I prop my elbows on the edge of the bar and rest my brow on my fingertips. “I can’t stand this much longer; how come I have this thing longer than what you did?”
“I don’t know, sweetie,” she shrugs. “Maybe your immune system is lower than mine. I keep telling you to take vitamins, but you never listen.”
Lifting my head from my fingers, I glare at the petite brunet with pigtails. With her one arm folded over her middle, and a piece of toast held tightly in the opposite hand, she quickly pokes out her tongue.
“Trust me, Jess, I’m going to start taking them.” I roll my eyes in exasperation.
Shifting her position, she supports herself on the edge of the counter, while waving her half eaten toast with her right hand. She leans in to me. “Sweetie, you nearly passed out last night. You can barely keep fluids down and the stuff over the counter obviously isn’t working for you. I really think you should see a doctor, at least they might be able to give you something to stay hydrated.”
“Jess,” I whine, tasting the faint scent of salt from the melting butter in my throat.
“Sammy?”
“Please take that out of my face,” I gesture with my brow at the toast and she savagely rips off a bite before straightening her posture once more. “Actually…” I recover my cell-phone from beside my frosted tumbler and pull up my contacts. “You’re right. I’m going to call Hayden, and tell him I’m not going to be in this morning.”
“Good idea.”
Pulling up ‘my hubby’s’ number, I press the green button and lift the handset to my ear. Like clockwork, he answers on the second ring.
“Good morning my beautiful, fiancée,” his greeting prompts an immediate smile. He’s his animated self, and I feel that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling radiating from my heart. I haven’t seen him in three days…I miss him.
“Good morning, honey. Listen, this bug is getting the best of me. Jessie has told me I’m to see the doctor this morning because I can’t keep anything down. But I will come in once I am done, Okay?”
“Do you want me to come with you? It is no problem, I only have two appointments, I’m sure Victor would take them.”
“No, I will be fine on my own. You go to work, and I will––”
“Call me as soon as you’re finished, Okay,” he finishes my sentence as per usual. He speaks with an edge in his voice, deep, demanding…authoritative. Such a tone would usually have me pooling with a need of sexual gratification…if I wasn’t ill.
“Okay,” I grin. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, beautiful.”
“Bye.”
“Bye,” he whispers softly. As the line goes dead, my heart plummets into the deepest rift and I feel a shadow looming over me––the shadow of his voice, his words…his presence.
I take another sip of water, and take a profound inhalation. I close my eyes, in a feeble attempt to muster a hidden strength to overcome the contorting sensation in my gut.
Jess cocks her head and regards me with upmost support. “Do you want me to come with you, Sammy? Matt’s got the day off work and has some errands to run, so it’s no problem at all.”
I can’t help but push through and smile at the degree of warmth and consideration in her soothing tone.
“No, Jess,” I shake my head, “I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine,”
hopefully
.
“Hmm…” she arches her perfectly threaded eyebrow and licks her lips. “She’s a big girl, yet she won’t take vitamin when she’s told. Interesting.”
My blood heats greatly with uprising agitation. Why even bother appointing you a time to see the doctor, if they fail to consult with you at that time? I feel like I’m some animal stuffed into a crate amongst other animals waiting to be taken to the slaughterhouse.
Ugh…meat…
In a vain attempt to quell my stomachs gymnastics meet, I glance around the room. Typical posters from effective forms of contraception, to bowel problems and asthma adorn the stark walls of the Doctor’s Office. Children sit on the floor playing with toy trains and a father reads a story to his child. My inspection is soon broken, my heart pole-vaults to my throat and my nerves are left scattered like marbles on a polish floor as the woman next to me releases a cluster of violent sneezes.
My subconscious shakes her head, displeased.
Yeah, I don’t want to be here either, Missus,
I roll my eyes inwardly.
“Samantha Kennedy to Dr Summers, please––that’s, Samantha Kennedy to, Dr Summers,” the woman sounds over the sound system. Thank God.
Upon hearing my summons, I feel my agitation dissipate. I grasp my purse, whilst secretly grinning with relief as I remove myself from any additional possibilities that I will contract some other bug from the waiting area. I make my way down the corridor beyond the double glass doors to the consultation room.
Dr Summers sits behind the oak veneered desk with her rimless glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. The light sears through the window to the right of the room and connects with the multi-tones of her blond hair, which is secured in a clip displaying her round, golden face. I’m warmed by her understanding disposition as I speak.
“When was your last period, Samantha?”
The chair slips away from me, and the world spins on a different axis. Why is the date of my last period, of any importance? I am here about this Goddamn bug? I frown, feeling blatantly embarrassed by the fact that that I can’t remember. Damn, this is one thing a woman should never forget.
“Um…I have the implant,”––I instinctively point to the inside of my left bicep––“so my periods are irregular. I had it changed around the beginning of October, so my last period must have been a little before then.”
She pushes her glasses up to their correct position, rests her folded arms on the surface of the desk and leans into them.
“Did you abstain from having intercourse for the appointed three weeks after the change, or use additional contraception, during that time?”
My pulse accelerates rapidly, and my breathing soon matches. I throw my face into the hands and shake my head in ashamed naivety. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How could I not remember that? Oh yes, I was too busy being wrapped up both physically and emotionally with my insatiable, hypnotic boyfriend…fiancé. Fuck.
“We should do a test, just in case.” I release my face from the concealment of my hands, and shamefully peek up at Dr Summers. She offers a hopeful smile and hands me a small sample container, before showing me to the restroom.
Please, no, no, no.
I cannot be doing this. So much has changed, I’m coping with it, and I’m embracing it. But this? The possibility of having a baby at this point in time? I have only just started accepting responsibility for my own life––for my own actions; how the hell am I supposed to take responsibility for something that can’t even support its own head?
I shake my head. I can’t do this; it’s all, too much. I don’t have a maternal bone in my body. I don’t get all gushy and brooding when I see a baby. If anything, I prefer to walk in the opposite direction.
Fuck, what if something happens to me and the child has to take on the role that I had to with my mother? My mom wasn’t born an epileptic; things change, circumstances change, you don’t stay healthy forever. Fuck, bollocks, shitting assholes, I scold myself. How could I have been so stupid?
After I finish and wash up, I meekly return to my seat and hand the sample to the empathetic doctor displaying a reassuring, tightlipped grin. As I watch her dip the white stick into the contents, all regard of time is abandoned, and the moments tick past in a painful and decelerate pace. Seconds last for minutes. Only the muffled ringing in my ears pierces through the deafening silence.