Brat

by Alicia Michaels

  “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 fi
rst 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.”

  Christian frowned, his dark eyebrows furrowing over his electric blue eyes. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “What happened? He didn’t do anything I need to kick his ass for, did he?”

  I couldn’t help but smile at that. Christian was definitely the big brother of our group, always looking out for us girls. God help the guy that screwed one of us over. Before Jenn got with Luke, she was dating this asshole named Dain, who had been playing her and God knows how many other girls. He was an old high school friend of Christian’s, but when he found out Jenn had been hurt by Dain’s betrayal, Christian was livid. Even though Jenn had given him a black eye, Christian hadn’t been satisfied. Jenn had told me Christian had confided that he’d gone back for a piece of Dain himself. Needless to say, the jerk went around sporting a bruised cheek and a busted, swollen lip to match that shiner for a while.

  Everyone knows Christian is a player, but the girl who finally captures that guy’s heart is going to be lucky as hell. Christian is a protector, on the field and off, and he is like a lion about the people he loves—ready to chase down and claw anything or anyone that would dare mess with us.

  Wrapping my arms around Christian’s waist, I hugged him tight, resting my head on his chest. Surprised, he hugged me back.

  Laughing, he patted my shoulder. “What was that for?”

  I smiled up at him and stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “For being the best big brother I wish I’d had growing up. Chase didn’t do anything bad and he didn’t hurt me, I swear. It just isn’t going to work out. We’re both really focused on our futures right now, and our lives are going in different directions.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I could see that. Unless you decide to start a clothing line using only hemp, you have nothing in common with him at all.”

  Just hearing Christian voice it out loud confirmed it. I was absolutely right about me and Chase, and if someone else could see it then I wasn’t crazy. Insane attraction just wasn’t enough to build a relationship on, not when the people involved are still scarred from the past and so different they aren’t even pieces of the same puzzle.

  “Well, you don’t have to worry. We’ve come to an understanding of sorts. Everything is cool, don’t worry.”

  He pulled away. “All right then, as long as you say it’s cool I won’t kill him.”

  “Get out of here you big, dumb jock.”

  He wrinkled his nose at me. “Whatever, loser. You going to Luke’s thing tonight?”

  “Yeah, I’m going.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

  “Have a good practice!” I called after him as he loped down the stairs.

  Chase passed him on the landing, coming up as he was going down. He’d just returned from two back to back classes after a full day of work and he looked exhausted … but still delicious in his khakis, button-up shirt, and tie, a faux leather satchel hanging from one of his large hands. My heart stuttered at the sight of him, my skin growing warm. His steps faltered and his gaze swept over me in that way it always did; a way that left me feeling exposed.

  Leaning against the doorframe of his and Christian’s room, he crossed his arms over his chest and studied me. “How are you feeling?”

  I shrugged. “Fine, I guess. All the crappy stuff seems to happen in the morning.
By noon I tend to feel much better. Got any plans tonight?”

  “Yeah, I’m going home for the weekend to give my mom a hand with my brother.”

  I should have been relieved that he would be gone, but somehow I felt just the opposite. “Oh,” I said, my eyes lowering to the carpet in the hallway. “That’s great. Well, I guess I’ll see you when you get back.”

  “Chloe?”

  I stared up to find him standing less than a foot away from me, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grinned. That smile hit me full force in the gut, throwing me off balance. Luckily, there was a wall behind me and I steadied myself. “Yes?” I breathed, my eyes wide as he leaned close.

  He paused just before our lips could touch and smirked. “I’m going to miss you, too,” he said simply before withdrawing, turning back toward his room. It closed behind him and I was left standing in the hallway, gaping like an idiot.

  Chapter 5

  The weekend passed us by in a surprising blur. Luke and Wicked City slayed their first set at Hole in the Wall, earning them new local fans, and—more importantly—beyond a decent first week’s pay. The night was fun enough, even though I couldn’t indulge in my usual slew of martinis and Jell-O shots. Luke’s band was actually pretty good, and Luke himself is a superstar in the making. It was a fun night, and served to take my mind off Chase and next week’s appointment for a few hours. Even Kinsley, who managed to drag herself out of bed after her nap, was in a better mood. Saturday morning and afternoon were spent helping Luke and Jenn unpack the rest of their crap, and finishing up a few homework assignments. And, of course, that night the Longhorns delivered the first of what everyone knew would be a string of victories, murdering North Texas sixty-five to thirty-two.

  Sunday was a quiet day, with Christian gone to have his usually weekly dinner with his folks at home, and the rest of us pretty much focused on finishing up our homework. It was like the teachers wanted to establish from the get-go what jerk-offs they could be by piling on as much work as possible in the first week. Okay, we get it, senior year is serious stuff—geez, ease up a bit.