by Trudy Stiles
Jerk.
“Yes, they did, as a matter of fact.” God, this lie is going to kill me. “And I didn’t get any on my face. I had them in places you can’t see…” I trail off. Fuck.
His blue eyes get darker as he gives my body a once over and he just nods. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Another smirk. I’m caught.
“So, what do you want?” I ask defensively as I start to push past him and out into the hallway. “I have to be somewhere in ten minutes.”
“Obviously you’re not going to class,” he accuses.
“No, I have an appointment. So What. Do. You. Want?” I’m very pissed now.
He pushes a folder at me. “Professor Martin wanted me to bring you copies of her lectures and lab assignments for the past two weeks. And for me to set up a time with you to do the lab assignment from this morning.” He shoves the folder at me, and I grab it.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“What don’t you understand? Professor Martin wants to help you. Period. So let her. She doesn’t do this often. You’re lucky she isn’t failing you already. OK?” Now he is getting annoyed.
“Fine,” I state in my bitchiest tone possible.
“Fine,” he states back.
I’m suddenly drawn to him. Attracted to him. What is going on with me?
“OK. I have to go now. I’m going to be late for my appointment.”
“Here.” He hands me a folded piece of paper. “It’s my phone number and my lab hours. Suggested times to complete your missed assignments.” He places it in my hand and folds my fingers around it.
I tremble when he touches me. It’s like an electrical current runs from my palm straight to my belly and core. Whoa. I may just melt, and I don’t want him to let go.
“Oh, OK.” I can’t say much else. I’m stunned, tongue-tied by his touch.
His smile returns as he winks at me.
“Call me to set up the lab work, and I’ll let Professor Martin know that you are almost over your chicken pox.” He releases my hand slowly, winks again, and walks toward the elevators.
“Wait!” I yell after him.
I run a little bit to catch up. “I’m going your way.” I smile.
We ride the elevator in silence, and I can hear his every breath. And I’m sure he can hear my heart beating wildly in my chest. Does he feel this, whatever it is?
We arrive at the first floor, and he gestures for me to get off first. Wow, what a gentleman! OK. My standards may not be that high, but really, I’m touched by his chivalry.
We walk out of the elevator, and he turns back to me. “Happy Birthday.” He smiles at me.
“How?” I’m stunned. What is he? Clairvoyant?
“The sign above the door to your room. It said ‘Happy Birthday Carly!’”
“Oh. OK. Thanks.” Incredible. Denise.
“OK,” he says. “Talk to you soon?”
“Yes!” I exclaim. I take a breath. “Yes,” I say again more quietly. “I’ll call you to set up the lab. And thanks for everything.” I’m thankful knowing that he is going to keep my secret from Professor Martin.
He walks away as I stand here gawking after him.
Shit. I’m going to be late.
I start jogging in the opposite direction toward the clinic.
As I am running up the steps, Callie is walking out. “There you are!” She looks worried.
“Sorry.” I’m gasping trying to catch my breath. Although I try to jog a few times a week, I just ran about a mile at a speed I’m not used to running. I’m totally sucking wind. I picture Kyle and his dusty blond hair and smile. “Something detained me.”
“C’mon.” She takes my hand and pulls me into the clinic.
PA Jean is standing in the waiting room. As soon as she sees me, she opens the door to the hallway that leads to the exam rooms. “Carly, we are ready for you.”
“OK.” I follow her, and Callie has a soft smile on her face as I walk away.
I hop up onto the exam table, and PA Jean sits in the chair closest to me.
“Carly.” She starts talking, and her expression tells me that I’m about to find out something that I’m not going to like.
Not.
Good.
“Carly, as I expected, your pregnancy test was negative.”
I sigh and take a breath. “OK, good,” I say, my voice wavering.
“However, we found some additional things when we ran your blood work and cervical samples.”
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My heart is racing and is in my throat at this point. I start to sweat and rub my hands back and forth on the tops of my thighs. The friction from my jeans is making my palms burn.
“Carly, you’ve tested positive for chlamydia. Your levels are quite high, and we need to start treating you immediately. If we even got to it in time,” she says through tight lips.
“Here are some pamphlets on chlamydia that will tell you what it is. It can be completely symptom free, but it can cause serious complications to your reproductive tract.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m stunned, silent. Chlamydia? What. The. Fuck.
Fucking Todd. Fuck.
I feel sick.
I stop rubbing my hands on my jeans and take the pamphlet. I don’t look at it. I just fold it into a small enough square to shove in my jacket pocket. I start to hop off of the exam table. “So if that’s it, I’ll just be going,” I say quietly. I can’t stay here any longer; the room is starting to close in on me.
“Carly, sit down,” PA Jean says sternly.
I do as I’m told and hop back up on the table. I don’t make eye contact with her as I stare out the window at the still-falling snow.
“Carly, we need to talk about treatment. I’m prescribing you antibiotics to take for the next thirty days. I’d still like you to consider birth control medication or other methods of protection.”
“But…” I stop. What’s the use? I should talk to her about it and find out my options.
She continues. “Birth control pills may help counteract some of the side effects of chlamydia. It can help regulate your period and menstrual flow. Sometimes chlamydia can cause scarring in the uterus and fallopian tubes and going on birth control can help ease any discomfort.”
“OK.” I’m numb at this point and will say yes to anything.
She hands me two prescriptions. One for antibiotics, the other for birth control. She then hands me a paper bag.
“Three months’ worth of birth control pills are in here to get you started. Fill the prescription when you need it,” she says. “And finally, if you become intimate with anyone while you are taking the antibiotics, please use a condom, in order to protect your partner from infection.”
Really? As if I’m going to have sex after all of this!
I grab the bag, hop off the table and walk toward the door.
“Carly?” Jean asks.
I turn to look at her.
“Have you thought about talking to Dr. James?” she asks.
“I haven’t even thought about it, Jean.” I say sternly. I can’t deal with this right now.
“Please talk to her, Carly. At least, please consider it?” she begs.
“Fine.”
I walk out the door. Through the waiting room. Past Callie.
Out into the snow.
Happy.
Fucking.
Birthday.
Philadelphia, PA
Past
Age 19
It’s been three weeks since I escaped from Hell. Three weeks since I got away from that pig, Tony.
Five weeks since I gave up my little girl.
Sara.
; I’ve lived with nineteen years of emptiness.
I left Oregon in the dust. The wad of money that I took from Tony’s pocket was the mother-load.
Four thousand, five hundred dollars!
I know that if he ever gets his hands on me again, he will kill me. I’ve never seen him carry this much money on him before, so this must have been for something significant. Shit. I don’t care. It’s mine now, and I’m so far away. He won’t find me.
I hope.
I took several busses across the country, and I didn’t do any sightseeing. I just wanted to get to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania as fast as I could. My hometown.
I was able to rent an efficiency apartment on the north end of Philly. Not the greatest area, but it was someplace that I could afford and call home.
Home.
I need to make this feel like my home.
I found a job waitressing three nights a week at a diner two bus stops away from my apartment. Again, not in the best part of the city, but it’s a job. I also found a second job in a small bookstore. I worked it out so my shifts for both don’t overlap. I need to keep adding to this little nest egg that Tony so graciously started for me.
I cringe. What a douchebag!
I don’t know why I spent so many years with Tony.
I was desperate and ran away from foster home after foster home. I made it across the country when I was seventeen years old and wound up in Portland, Oregon. The first place I came across was Tony’s club. I lied to the manager about my age. He only cared about my tits and hired me on the spot.
The moment that Tony saw me working the tables near the stage, he approached me and said that I was something ‘special’. Yeah, special enough to fuck and then beat the shit out of on a regular basis. But what did I know at that point?
He talked me into renting the apartment above the club. He knew I needed a cheap place to stay and how could I turn down two hundred dollars per month rent? Little did I know what would follow. Almost daily beatings, sexual abuse. Fuck.
I shake my head to snap myself out of it. That is over now.
I’m starting my new life.
I touch my cheek where Tony cut me. I have a jagged scar about four-inches long that is still healing. One day, when I have enough money, I’m going to get it fixed and erased. I don’t want this reminder to carry around and wear like a badge for all to see. It’s disgusting and a reminder of what I am. Of who I am. Of what I’ve done. Fucking scar.
Today I’m working at my favorite place on earth, the bookstore. Nothing smells better than a crisp, new book. I could inhale the scent of these books all day. Ah. Yes, I’m weird. The bookstore is quiet today as it is almost every day and I’m here by myself while Kirsten, the owner, is out to lunch.
As I’m arranging the latest books to display, I hear the door chimes jingle.
Not turning around, I yell, “I’ll be right with you!”
I stack a few books on a shelf and turn my head toward the front of the store.
I see a guy standing by the front counter, and he’s playing with the bookmarks that are hanging from the metal hooks on the small display case. He’s actually playing them as if they were instruments. He’s weaving his fingers back and forth against the strings of the hanging bookmarks, and I swear his lips are moving, silently singing a song to the music he is creating with those bookmarks.
“Excuse me.” I stare at his lips while trying to figure out the words he’s mouthing.
He stops abruptly and snaps out of the creative trance that he’s in. I almost apologize for disturbing him. I shake my head. What is wrong with me?
He turns to look at me, and I immediately start stuttering. “How… How can… can I help you?” His eyes are so dark brown that I can almost see my reflection in them. He’s beautiful. Not too tall, just about six feet. Jet-black hair, a little long and spiked on the top. Pale skin. Thin, but not too thin. Tattoos on his arms make them look like he has sleeves under his tight black tee shirt. He’s wearing black jeans and black Chuck Taylors.
I have now completely lost the ability to speak.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m looking for a music book.”
“Oh,” I answer. “What kind of music book? Instructional? A certain instrument?”
He huffs a little. “No. I mean a book that I can write music in,” he answers.
He’s a musician.
My eyes glaze over, and I don’t speak. I just stare.
At him.
“So?” he says. “Do you have any?”
I snap out of it and shake my head back and forth as if to shake cobwebs from my hair.
“Um, no. We don’t have music ledgers. I’m sorry.” And I really am sorry.
Like really sorry.
I couldn’t be more sorry.
I almost say I’m sorry again because that’s how sorry I am.
I shake my head.
“OK.” He turns to leave.
“Wait!” I yell. I don’t want him to leave.
Think Tabby!
I grab the three-subject notebook that I was using to take inventory earlier this morning, open it up and rip out the pages that I used. I thrust the notebook at him and say, “Here! Use this!”
He turns around and wraps his hand around the end of the notebook, brushing his fingers along mine. Across the knuckles of his right hand are tattooed letters that spell ‘E-P-I-C’. Holy hell. His rough, calloused fingers feel divine.
“You’re giving me your notebook?” he asks almost incredulously.
“Well, yeah.” I answer back.
“Cool,” he says with a slight chuckle. Then he smiles at me, and my knees almost collapse. “Thanks.”
He hesitates before he takes the notebook from my hands, and he stares at me. He’s squinting his eyes trying to figure me out. I’m so drawn to him.
“Well.” He pulls the notebook and I release it. “I’ve gotta run. But…”
“What?” I interrupt him. Shit.
He continues. “My band is playing at the ‘High Note’ on Friday night at nine. Why don’t you come and I can buy you a drink? You know. To thank you for the notebook?” He winks at me.
I’m not twenty-one. I have no chance of getting into the High Note. Shit. I have a shift at the diner that I’m supposed to work.
“Yes! I’ll be there!” I answer. My damn mouth doesn’t listen to my damn brain.
“Great!” His smile gets bigger. “I’ll leave your name at the door. You should have no trouble getting in.”
“OK,” I say quietly.
He smiles. “I’m Alex. Alex Treadway.”
“Hi Alex. I’m Tabitha. Tabby. Tabby Fletcher.”
“OK, Tabitha. Tabby. Fletcher. See you Friday night,” he says as he turns and walks out the door.
Alex.
I turn to the bookmarks that he was so magically playing, and swipe my hand through them. I swear I feel a vibration between my fingertips and hear the music that he created.
I think of the tattoo across his fingers.
E-P-I-C
I smile.
Yes, meeting him certainly was.
Spring Lake, New Jersey
Present
Age 29
Dear Emily,
Time is just flying by! We are getting ready for you my sweet little girl.
Your room has been painted (pink!) and your furniture has been ordered. I already have a rocking chair, and it’s the only piece of furniture in your room right now. I’m sitting in it as I write this letter to you! I feel like I can already smell you and feel you in this room.
Tonight, your Daddy painted your name onto the wall above where your dresser is going to be. He spent over three hours on this project! He wanted it
to be perfect!
When he was done, he stood back, stared at the letters, and just nodded his head. He said, “Yes, Emily. You belong here.”
He is so right, sweetie. You do belong here.
I can’t wait!
I’m having lunch with Tabitha today, and I hope that she is OK. I think about her so much and it pains me to think about what she is going through. She loves you Emily. With all of her heart. She wants you to have the life that she can’t give you.
We are going to make her so proud and so happy with her decision. We’ve made that promise to her. Our Promise. We promise to love you and keep you safe forever.
Love and kisses,
Momma
I close my journal and lay it across my lap. It’s Sunday morning, and Kyle is out jogging. If I’m going to make it in time to meet Tabitha in Philadelphia for lunch, I need to get moving!
I stand up and place my journal on the chair that I was sitting in. I turn around and hug myself with my arms wrapped tight around my sides. I survey the room and close my eyes, picturing the room full of furniture and stuffed toys. Princess dolls and dollhouses. A smiling little girl with brown hair and eyes with the rosiest cheeks and the cutest dimple.
I pause to remember the day last year that we found out we couldn’t have children of our own.
Kyle and I sit across the desk from our reproductive endocrinologist, Dr. Banks. We have now attempted intrauterine insemination three times and in-vitro fertilization five times. All unsuccessful. During our last cycle, Dr. Banks ran some additional tests to try to figure out what was going on. Today we are about to find out those results.
“Kyle. Carly.” His gaze moves between us.
“I’m afraid the news isn’t good.” His face softens as he gently frowns.
We both take a deep breath as Kyle grabs my hand and squeezes tight. He rubs his thumb along my knuckles softly.
“As you know, during your last cycle, we tested the embryos that you produced.” He pauses to breathe. “Those embryos were all tainted. Tainted with bad DNA and chromosomal abnormalities. The stage that these embryos were in indicates with a high probability that your eggs, Carly, are extremely poor quality.”