by Emilia Finn
She’s usually a strong and independent woman, and though she loves her big, strong overprotective man, she hates being treated like a child. Her insistence to prove the guys wrong though sometimes sets her back and she’s exhausted after only short periods of awake time. She’s a stubborn ass and that fiery attitude is helping to heal my heart and worry for her.
My best friend is back, but she’s so damn tired and sore.
After my breakdown that night in front of Jon, I’ve managed to pull my head out of my ass and I’ve gotten myself together.
Jon and I have not had sex again since, and just as promised, we’re back to normal. He’s my other best friend, he holds me most nights and we laugh and bullshit with each other every day.
I don’t know how we’ve managed it, but we’ve kissed and had sex, two separate potentially explosive friendship ending occasions, and both times we’ve kept our promise to each other. We went back to who we are the next day.
I still love him. Like, really, truly, monogamous relationship love him, but the hurt has eased. It’s a nice love. I smile when he’s around, I see him every day, I flirt with him and I sleep with him at night. If I ignore the fact that he doesn’t know my true feelings and that he doesn’t reciprocate them, then I’m okay.
Denial is my other other best friend now.
Jon’s anxiety seems to have eased since that night, like our being together helped him too, and though I’m sad we can’t keep doing that, I can’t say I regret it. It felt good, for my body and my heart.
The rest is my problem, not his. And I won’t make it his problem.
I can be his best friend.
Although Jon’s anxiety has ebbed lately, he’s back to being the annoying caretaker these last few days since I’ve been sick with the flu and bedridden. I’ve lost weight, I’m not eating and I’ve been vomiting, but I’ve been doping myself up with NyQuil, I’ve been resting and at his insistence, I called out sick from work this week.
Not that I had much choice. I’ve had my head in a bucket or in the toilet this whole week.
“I’m going out for a bit.” Izzy breezes past my mostly dead form spread out on their couch, with the billion dirty tissues and cans of ginger ale littering the table.
Izzy stops and lays her cool palm on my forehead, she’s almost as motherly as Jon is lately, and she tsks at the warmth she feels there. “You need some more Advil?”
I shake my head slowly, careful not to incite another bout of vomiting. My throat hurts from the stomach acid and not much else coming up. “Nah Iz, I’m good,” I croak pathetically. “Already took some. I’m going back to bed soon then hopefully I’ll wake up tomorrow and be back to normal. I miss Kit but I don’t wanna go over there and take my germs.”
“She knows you’re sick. She understands.” Iz stands up straight again. “Jon! I’ll be back later.”
He pokes his head into the living room from the kitchen. He’s been in there cooking me chicken soup; theoretically, I know it smells good, but my stomach won’t let me believe it. I’m not sure there’s anything in the world that’ll ever smell good to me again. “Where’re you going?”
“Just out,” she answers him. “I’ll be back late, don’t wait up.”
“Sissy,” Jon speaks low on a growl. He doesn’t tolerate the fact she’s a grown ass woman very well. I wonder if he acknowledges yet that she’s not a baby. And she probably isn’t a virgin either.
“See ya, Jon. Take care of Tink.”
His eyes snap back down to my exhausted body and his lips purse. He’s been nagging me to see a doctor for days but I keep brushing him off. It’s just the flu. I’ll be fine.
The evening passes me by in a blur. I’m vaguely aware of Jon bringing me soup, though I don’t get more than a single spoonful down.
I brought it back up again shortly after.
I dozed as Jon rubbed my feet and I dreamed of making love to him again. Though of course we don’t.
We made a deal. It was one time.
The next day when I was still on the edge of death, I decided to finally see my doctor. I was still vomiting and my period had arrived with a vengeance. My cramps have taken on a whole new level of painful, which is a bitch since this nausea decided to high five the cramps and wreak havoc at the same time. I wonder if I’ve pulled a stomach muscle or something from my near constant vomiting. The extra heavy flow of my period is killing me and I’m terrified I’m going to make a mess of Jon’s house any minute. How fucking mortifying.
“Are you sure I can’t come with you?”
“It’s fine, Leo.” I keep my eyes closed to ward off the sick and the cramps, though I can feel him near. “Lacey’s coming to get me and you need to go to the gym. Bobby’s out; you need to pick up the slack.”
“But the guys won’t mind if I’m late. I want to come with you.”
“Seriously,” I blindly reach out for his hand and latch on, twining my fingers between his. “I’m fine. I’ve already called Lace, she’s on her way. I’ll grab some antibiotics or something then I’ll be back to normal and not stinking up your house.”
Jon’s face scrunches; no one likes vomit, and though he’s tried to be understanding - he even forbade me to go home and ride this thing out alone - he still stands back every now and then when I hurl, the smell of vomit making him queasy like any other person.
I love Kit, but I’d keep my distance if she was vomiting too.
The doorbell rings and I sit up straight on the couch. My stomach rolls again, but I lock it down. “See.” I’m still croaking and my throat feels like razor blades have had a dance party overnight. “That’s her now. I’ll be home in an hour then I’ll sleep till you get home.”
“What do you want me to bring home? Ice cream? More soup?”
I accept Jon’s help to lift me to my feet and steady me. My head swims a little, and my stomach cramps a lot. This month’s period is already sucking. It might be best if I do go home this time; it’s already way heavier than usual.
“Hey Case, you here?”
“Yeah, hold on,” Jon calls out to my coworker as he practically lifts me off my feet and carries me, and though I want to roll my eyes, I feel too sick to muster the energy for even that.
“Thanks Leo. And ice-cream. That might be nice.
“Alright.” He kisses my forehead softly just before we round the hall and emerge in view of the front door. “Text me after you finish at the doctors. I wanna know what’s up with you.”
I nod my head then I smile as the pink haired and blue eyed Lacey walks in and takes my hand like I’m an invalid who needs help. I’m sick, but I’m still twenty-something and perfectly able bodied.
“Alright, guys, I’m okay. Thanks for coming, Lace. I’ll see you after, Leo.”
Jon stands at the door in his navy sweat pants as they ride low on his hips, and his Rollin tank that clings to his delicious chest, and his eyes track my movements. He blows a tiny air kiss, probably invisible to anyone else, but I see it and I smile. “Bye Sunshine.”
Lacey and I walk slowly down the pathway to her parked car, and though I tell myself I’m fine and able, I remind myself I haven’t eaten a whole meal in a week and I’m exhausted from broken sleep. I’m stubborn as a mule, but I don’t want to fall on my face either. I know my limitations.
“So…” Lacey laughs softly. “You and Jon had sex lately?”
“Ha.” I roll my eyes. “Not recently.” She knows about the first and only time. She’s the only person on this planet beside Jon and I that knows. I was working close with her one night weeks ago, she and I got to talking and I spilled my guts. Well, not all my guts. She has no clue I love him, but she knows he’s my best friend and that we hooked up.
That’s normally something I would share with Kit, but obviously she was still in a coma when it happened and when she woke, me flashing my jazz hands and announcing I had sex with her boyfriend’s best friend just didn’t feel appropriate. I’m not hiding the fact; I just
haven’t brought it up yet.
“Mmm, he’s so fine,” Lacey declares on something akin to a groan and I roll my eyes again. Ain’t that the truth?
“Yeah, well. No, we haven’t. We won’t again. It was a once in a lifetime deal.”
Lacey helps me into the passenger seat of her tiny Mazda then she skips her colorful butt wrapped in a sequin skirt despite the fact it’s ten a.m. on Thursday and not ten p.m. on a Saturday, around to the driver’s side. She flashes her flirty smile at me. “So if it was a once in a lifetime thing and you’re just friends, does that mean he’s available?”
Fuck no! “Yeah,” I sigh. “I guess.”
She looks out the corner of her eye as she pulls away from the curb. “I heard that sigh, girl. You want him, so why not claim him?”
“It’s not like that.” A new wave of nausea rolls in my stomach and I groan because my stupid ass didn’t bring a spew bucket. “Can you just drive smooth, Lace? Don’t stop and start too hard, I feel sick.”
“Yeah, hon, we’ll be there in two minutes, lock it up.”
“Mmm.” I recline in the chair and close my eyes.
~*~
“How long have you been feeling like this, Casey?” Dr. Storan removes the thermometer from my ear and he reads the screen before jotting the numbers down on a pad of paper.
“Um… all week, I guess.”
“Have you had a fever the whole time?” He presses his stethoscope to my back and I flinch at the cold steel.
“No. Just a couple days.”
“And you’ve been vomiting?” He writes some more stuff down then he threads my arm through a blood pressure cuff and turns the noisy machine on.
“Yeah, I’ve been vomiting for the whole week. I can’t seem to keep anything down, and I don’t even want to try. I’m not hungry.”
“Any other symptoms?” he asks as the cuff machine beeps and he rips the Velcro open again.
I flex my arm to get the blood flowing in my arm. “I’ve been cramping, but that’s normal.” Dr. Storan knows about my years of endometriosis and the irregularity of my periods, the heavy one month then light periods the next, or the lack of period completely as it just totally skips a month. He’s been my doctor since I was a teenager and I came to him after my first month of curling into the fetal position and sulking at the pain in my uterus.
“What’s the date of the first day of your last menstrual period?”
“Today. It started overnight.”
“Alright…” he writes some more stuff down on his pad then he takes a light and I open my mouth.
“Alright Casey,” he murmurs distractedly once he’s checked me over and glances back over his notes. I look over at Lacey as she silently sits in the corner and watches. She offered to stay in the waiting room, but I didn’t mind if she came in and I felt bad that she’d be bored sitting alone. “So apart from an inflamed throat, which we’ll assume is from your vomiting, you don’t have any other symptoms of a cold or flu. No running nose. Your eyes and ears are fine. Your chest is clear.”
“So what’s wrong with me?”
“I actually don’t know yet,” he chuckles softly and I smile despite feeling like death warmed up. I grab my stomach again when a cramp eats me from the inside out and I groan in pain.
“Hmm,” he frowns down at me in that fatherly way he does. He’s old enough to be my dad, and he’s kind and has a soft touch. I like him, even though he’s a guy and always up in my girly business. “They worse than usual this month?”
I shrug. “Dunno, I guess. I’ve been busy feeling so sick that all my problems have kind of melded together into one giant pain in my ass.”
He chuckles again. “Alright, well I think we’ll have to run a few blood tests.”
I sneer at him. “Needles?”
He looks up from his paper with a shy smile. “Just one needle, sorry.” He reaches into a drawer beside his leg and pulls out a clear pee cup with a lemon yellow lid. “I also want a urine sample. I’ll have to check you don’t have a kidney infection, possibly urinary tract. Take this into the bathroom and fill it up.”
“Umm,” I take the specimen cup and feel my face turn warm. “I have my period, so…”
“That’s alright, I’ve seen blood before. Just pee and we’ll do our best, but don’t sweat it because we’ll also test your blood samples.”
“Alright.” I stand shakily and hobble my weak ass to the bathroom attached to his office, then I sit down and start peeing and catching. I’ve gotten kind of good at this over the years, and I barely even pee on my hands anymore.
It’s a skill I probably can’t list on my resume, but it’s a skill nonetheless.
I finish up and cap the jar, wash my hands then blush at the pee that’s usually a light yellow but is now almost exclusively pink. Gross.
“Here you go.” I place the jar on some stacked paper towels on the corner of his desk then he snaps some gloves over his hands like some mad scientist ready to create the next Frankenstein.
Storan takes some small sticks from his top drawer and dips them in the pee, then he lays out three different sticks on the paper towel as he flicks his gloves into the bin and writes some more notes down.
“Casey…” he stops hesitantly as his brow pinches and his gaze travels to Lace in the corner. His eyes slowly meet mine again. “Did you want to ask your friend to step out for a few minutes?”
“Oh.” Lacey stands abruptly, grabbing her bag and shoving her phone in as her sequined butt flashes with the overhead fluorescents. “Yeah, no worries, I’ll go--”
“No.” I stop her, though my voice is still croaky and weak. “It’s okay, she can stay. I don’t mind.”
“I really don’t mind leaving.”
“No, it’s fine. What’s up, Doc?”
“Ah, well…” he picks up one of the strips he dipped in pee. “So I don’t think you have any infections; in your bladder, urinary tract or kidney … though that’ll be ruled out officially with blood tests.”
“Okay…”
“But, this strip here,” he lifts another and studies it closely for another long pause. “Well… This one says you’re pregnant.”
The cramping that had me bending at the waist only a moment ago is completely forgotten, vanished in the wake of Storan’s words.
“Pr--” I stop as my body experiences its first ever mini stroke. “Pregnant? No.” I shake my hands between us like I can wave away this shit. “No. That’s not right.”
“I know this will come as a shock to you--”
“A shock?” I ask loudly, startling both him and Lacey with my sharp words and quick movement. “It’s definitely a shock! You told me it’s unlikely I’ll ever get pregnant unless I have surgery for my endo scarring. You said--”
“I didn’t say it was impossible, I said you might have trouble. You still need to have protected intercourse.”
“I did! I’ve been on the pill for a decade. I haven’t missed any days, and I’ve had sex only once in more than a year. This can’t happen to me.”
“I think you need to go for scans today, Casey. You’re cramping and bleeding, and while both aren’t uncommon during pregnancy--”
“I’m not pregnant!” I’m screeching now, and if I could step away from this situation for a second, I’d be embarrassed about my operatic tone.
“While both are common,” he continues patiently, “with your history, your scarring, we need to get this checked as soon as possible.”
“I’m not preg--”
“Then there’s the fever you’ve been nursing.”
“I’ve got the flu!”
“Your fever has me worried, Casey. I’m really worried this could be ectopic. You’re bleeding heavily, you’re in pain, you have a fever… we can’t ignore this.”
“I have the flu!”
“We’re stepping into another room.” Storan stands and puts his cell phone in his back pocket, then he picks up his pad of paper. “Come with me. We need to do
a scan today. If it’s all good, then I’ll help you manage your fever and vomiting and we’ll find out why you’re having them. But if it’s not good, then we need to deal with it all now before it gets worse.”
No.
I try to ignore the sharp cramping from within my body as I argue internally. He can’t be right. He’s definitely wrong. He hasn’t been wrong yet, but today he is. Today he’s an incompetent idiot that knows nothing.
I’ve spent the last five years knowing that if I ever wanted kids, it would be a battle that my hypothetical husband and I would have to fight at the time. That I’d have to have surgery because of scarring on my tubes. I was told that I rarely even ovulate because the scarring was blocking everything up.
I’ve been on the pill since I was fifteen years old; my attempt at regulating my body and at least trying to control my out of control fallopian tubes. It’s been a bitch buying and taking pills for so long, but it’s just second nature now. I rarely even think of it, I just take the little cream colored pill every morning on autopilot.
But none of that is an issue I’ve thought about seriously yet. I’m not married. I don’t even have a man in my life – that wants kids.
I can’t accidentally get pregnant. I especially can’t accidentally fall pregnant with Jon Hart’s baby. He doesn’t want any babies. He’s told me a hundred times since we met he’ll never marry or have children. That he’s missing some genes. He won’t pass on his ‘faulty’ genes.
He’s going to be so mad if Storan turns out to be competent and not full of shit today. Jon’s going to lose his fucking mind over this.
“Come on,” Lacey murmurs in my ear, snapping me out of my internal panic at losing my best friend over this and she takes my weight and helps me stand.
Lacey supports me and we follow Storan out of his office, down a brightly lit hallway and into another room with a big bed, a bigger machine and an even bigger screen on the wall.
“I’m going to need you to remove your pants and underwear--”
“But my period--”
“It’s fine, Casey. Just take them off, lay down over here and put this towel over yourself. I’ll come back in a minute and we’ll get started. It’s totally up to you if your friend stays or steps out.”