02 Unforgivable - Untouchable

by Lindsay Delagair

  “I’d be ready,” I blurted out and then blushed a little, recalling that I was still in church and my thoughts were very unchurch-like at the moment.

  We shook Linda’s hand and then left for lunch. Kimmy went with a friend for the afternoon and we wouldn’t see her again until church this evening. It was nice because it was a chance for the adults to have time to talk. Not everything I wanted to discuss about my pending marriage was suitable for Kimmy’s ears. The problem was when we got to the restaurant for lunch, I realized I couldn’t bring myself to mention it with Micah at the table either. After we ordered our food, he excused himself to the restroom and I was able to ask my mother what had been bothering me.

  “Mom, I’ve got to talk to you about my first night—you know,” I fretted, looking Micah’s direction as he walked away. “I don’t know much about—about birth control.” I could tell Mom wasn’t a hundred-percent comfortable with the subject, but she was at least willing for the few minutes of privacy we had before he returned.

  She told me I was conceived because that thought never entered her mind when my father swept her off her feet. “But, thank goodness, you are more level headed than I ever was,” she stated. “When I met Robert, I wasn’t ready for another baby, not right away anyway. I went to my gynecologist and she put me on the pill, but I had a horrible reaction to it.”

  “What happened?” I asked, hoping she would explain before he returned.

  “It gave me vicious migraines. I couldn’t even get out of bed. I lost a whole bra size that first month,” she glanced down at her chest and frowned. “I never got that back. But the headaches were the worst, and I was apparently forming blood clots. The doctor took me off them, and Robert and I had to rely on condoms. I did try using a diaphragm for a while, but that was really… Well, let’s just say I didn’t like it.”

  That was a little more information than I was prepared for—or wanted to hear.

  Micah returned as she mentioned I really should discuss it with him.

  “Discuss what with me?” he asked, seating himself back at the table.

  I rolled my eyes. Who would have thought the one thing I was dying to do with him was a subject I couldn’t speak about out loud.

  “Birth control,” Mom stated as if she was the mother bird and she was shoving me out of the nest to see if I could fly.

  “Oookay,” he said, his face going red, “I guess I should be more careful when I walk in on ladies’ conversations.” He looked at me, clearly uncomfortable, “Do you want to—to discuss this now?”

  I rarely bit my nails, but I became keenly aware of the fact that I was gnawing through my thumbnail.

  “I think you should make an appointment with my gynecologist,” Mom tossed out. “She’d be able to give you all the options and then you, the two of you, can decide what you want to do—I mean I know what you want to do, but—what I meant to say was—”

  “Mom,” I said, removing the thumbnail from between my teeth and reaching out and gripping her hand, “It’s okay. I get what you’re trying to say.”

  “Great,” Micah blushed, clearly hoping we were changing subjects, “Let’s just get it on—I mean get on with ordering dinner.”

  We made it through dinner, but it was the quietest meal I’d had in a long time, with the exception of the fact that I couldn’t stop laughing as I thought about how tongue-tied we had become.

  Monday morning, Mom and Kimmy left early to go shopping, but before leaving she handed me a business card and told me to call for an appointment. When I looked down I saw it was a card for Dr. Kerstin Kannova, OBGYN. Micah was up and enjoying a cup of coffee out on the pool deck, so I took the opportunity to make the call while I had some privacy.

  Upon explaining my situation, the receptionist put me through directly to Dr. Kannova. She was very personable and suggested that Micah and I come into her office for a consultation. She said she would go over all the options and see what suited us best.

  “Have you ever had a gynecological exam?” she asked.

  “Ah, no.”

  “What birth control methods have you been using?”

  “I—I’ve never—this will be my first time so I don’t—”

  “Oh,” Dr. Kannova replied with a bit of surprise to her voice, “well, you should really have an exam. We can do it the day you come in for the consultation.”

  “Okay, when do we come in?”

  “Hold on, I’m going to transfer you back out to my appointment desk and they’ll set it up for you, but I’d like to make it as soon as possible; most methods require some time in advance before they are effective.”

  I assumed I wouldn’t get an appointment for weeks, but to my astonishment they scheduled me for Friday morning. Now the only problem was explaining to Micah what we were doing that morning. I took a cup of coffee and joined him on the deck. He looked up at me and smiled—maybe I’d tell him later, like Thursday night—late Thursday night.

  Linda called to let us know, for a substantial price, the monastery was ours for the entire afternoon and evening on the fifteenth. Our invitations would be ready Wednesday after one o’clock, but she wasn’t going to be able to pick them up due to a family matter. I told her that was no problem, Micah and I would pick them up.

  Tuesday we drove down to St. Bernard’s to see the monastery in person. Micah and I were both a little awestruck as we toured the buildings and grounds. The photos certainly didn’t do the oldest building in the western hemisphere justice. It left you with a deep feeling of having entered a place that was holy and acceptable to God. We took care of the deposit for the wedding and reception and thanked our guide, and we left to go to the Acqualina.

  We didn’t say anything for the first five minutes or so in the car; it had simply been too overwhelming, but Micah was the first to break the silence.

  “Annalisa, I honestly didn’t think I’d care where we said our vows, but I’ve got to admit I’m glad Linda was looking for something special for us.”

  “I know what you mean, I just kept thinking: eight-hundred years of history, what a place—”

  “To commit our lives to each other,” he finished. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

  We were all smiles by the time we pulled into the Acqualina. We were taken up to see a deluxe, 1,600 square foot, ocean side one bedroom suite and then shown around the restaurant and grounds, before finishing out our day in the spa. We lay out, side by side and enjoyed an intense massage, four massage therapists and eight hands working every ounce of tension from our bodies. What an incredible ending to a great day.

  Wednesday afternoon we drove to the printers for the invitations. All the preparations seemed to be going by so fast and yet the wedding still seemed so far away. Eleven weeks to go was starting to feel like an eternity.

  “Hi,” I said as we walked into the small print store, “I’m Annalisa Winslett and this is my fiancé, Micah Gavarreen. Linda asked us to stop by and pick up our wedding invitations today.”

  “Oh yes,” the balding man behind the counter said, “I finished boxing them up about two hours ago. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

  He returned quickly and placed the two boxes on the counter. “Here is one of the invitations so you can make sure it looks good to you.”

  I was looking at the color and cut and the font, but Micah was looking at something entirely different.

  “The date is wrong,” he observed as soon as I opened the card.

  “What?” the gentleman behind the counter and I said at the same moment.

  “August 15th is what Linda had written down,” the man stated pulling out her order form.

  “No, September 15th is the correct…” I paused and turned to Micah.

  “I’ll scrap this and start over,” the man was saying as he tried to grab the boxes.

  “No, don’t do that.” I prevented him from taking them away. “Micah, do you know what this is?”

  “Yeah, the wrong date.”

/>   “No—God does everything for a purpose; this is the right date. We’ve got to move the wedding up!” I was excited to my core. We’d both said we couldn’t wait and now it appeared, to me at least, that God was in agreement; we’d marry in six weeks.

  “Leese, I’d like to move it up too, but what about the church? They may not have an opening August 15th.”

  “I’ll call right now.” I grabbed my cell and dialed information. I motioned Micah to stay where he was as I stepped outside for better reception. When the phone was answered, I explained who I was and that there had been some confusion about our wedding date and we wanted to move it to August 15th. My request was met with a very long pause. “I know that isn’t far away, but I was hoping that—”

  “I have a feeling,” the man on the other end of the line began, “that the Good Lord must be with you on this one because no more than an hour ago, both weddings we had scheduled for that day cancelled—we’re available all evening.”

  I charged back inside and leaped into Micah’s surprised grasp, tears rolling down my cheeks. “They had two weddings planned for that day,” I cried, still clinging to his neck.

  He pulled back enough to see my face, “Had?”

  I nodded. “Both weddings cancelled an hour ago—it’s ours for the night.” I swallowed at the annoying block of emotions in my throat, “Six weeks, baby—only six more weeks.”

  I don’t know how long we stood there holding on to each other trying to understand what had just occurred, but eventually the gentleman behind the counter cleared his throat, “I guess then these are okay?”

  Micah planted a soft kiss against my lips, never turning his head to look at the man, “They’re perfect,” he whispered.

  When I finally got in touch with Linda later that afternoon, she flipped.

  “But you said everything was coming together, and we were practically ready anyway?” I reminded her.

  “I know, but—but six weeks! Okay, look I’ll just have to put everything in high gear. Don’t worry about it, I’ll have it done and it’ll be beautiful.”

  I wanted to tell her I wasn’t worried in the least; God moved up the date and He would make sure that it was perfect.

  Micah and I spent the majority of Thursday with Linda finalizing every detail from Micah’s tux to my bouquet, to what we were serving at the reception, music, songs, lighting, seating, and on and on. I never realized how much work went into a wedding.

  We were both exhausted by the time we left her and went to dinner.

  “Did you order our plane tickets,” Micah asked as the waiter placed our drinks in front of us.

  “All done, I did that last night. We board on the evening of the eighteenth and then it’s just you and me and Maui for three heart pounding weeks. You’ll love our house. It’s between Hana and the Haleakala National Park. We can hike to waterfalls or snorkel off the black sand beach.”

  He reached out and grasped my hand in both of his, his thumbs caressing my skin, and then he lifted it and placed a kiss on the back, “I’m glad the date changed. How about tomorrow we start looking for a house? Our house—I’d like to have one here and another one in Louisiana. We can… Leese, are you okay?”

  I know an odd look had come over my face as I remembered about Friday, “Yeah, it’s just that we have an—an appointment in the morning.”

  “For what? I don’t remember anything for tomorrow.”

  “That would be because I sort of forgot to mention it,” I cringed.

  He picked up on the cringe. “What exactly are we doing in the morning?”

  “We’re going to see a doctor,” I said softly, afraid to give my words any volume, “For a consultation about—about birth control.”

  His eyebrows went up, “Leese, baby, you didn’t have to do that. I can handle the birth control for a little while and then—”

  “You,” I said, clearly surprised.

  He lifted his glass and muttered something I couldn’t hear.

  “What?”

  “I’ll use condoms,” he repeated, barely louder than the first time.

  “I don’t want anything between us,” I stated.

  “Trust me, neither do I, but as much as I can’t wait to start a family, I don’t want you to be a teenage mother.”

  “This is why were going to see the doctor, she’s going to give us some—some options and besides she’s said I should have an exam before—”

  “An exam? I would think an exam wouldn’t be a good idea, or even possible since you’ve never—”

  “I already told her this was my first time and she didn’t seem to think it was a problem.”

  Micah frowned. I could tell he didn’t like the idea at all; I was now really glad I didn’t give him the whole week to wiggle out of it. The mood for the remainder of the evening was ruined.

  The next morning I was nervous, but ready to get this part over with. Micah never came out of his sour mood from when I told him what we were doing. He still thought it was ridiculous to see a doctor over something that was perfectly natural and, as he put it, something people have been doing since God put us on earth. I told him maybe people have been ‘doing it’ that long, but I haven’t and I’d feel better if he give me a little support.

  Reluctantly, he agreed and we drove downtown to the doctor’s office. It actually became comical when we arrived and I watched Micah’s hulking form shrink smaller and smaller as we sat in the waiting room with three expectant mothers who all seemed to want to chat with us as to why we were there; the natural assumption being that we were in the early stages of pregnancy or trying to get pregnant.

  I was never so glad to be called back when the nurse opened the door. Micah rose from his chair, but the nurse told him she’d be back to get him when the doctor was finished with me. I could feel his burning stare as I left him among the chatty mothers-to-be. I think he would have rather been facing down another hit man in a dark alley—and to have been out of bullets.

  Doctor Kannova appeared to be in her late thirties, blond hair and blue-green eyes. I felt immediately comfortable with her as she spoke with me for a few minutes in the exam room. I told her my fears about the pill and the negative effects that my mother went through with it, but she didn’t seem overly concerned.

  “So the wedding is in six weeks and this is your first time. Do you have any other methods you are leaning toward? Have you done any research into birth control?”

  “Yes, but to be honest what I want seems a little confusing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’d like to try the rhythm method at first, just at least for our first few nights, but I don’t know what we should do beyond that.”

  “That may not be so easy. The rhythm method requires you to have very good records about your cycle and—”

  “I keep a calendar every month. I can show you exactly how my cycles run.”

  “But are they regular? Most young women—”

  “I’m like clockwork, every 28 days on the nose and I don’t even vary by a day.”

  “Well, that certainly helps, but it’s such a small window of opportunity and I don’t know if that ‘window’ will be open August 15th. But let’s not worry about that right now. I’m going to need you to remove all your clothing and put on this robe, opening in the rear. I’ll be back when your changed.”

  “Doctor Kannova, I do have a question,” I asked, stopping her before she could go out the door. I knew this question was the crux of Micah’s fears about today. “My fiancé seems to think an exam isn’t possible since I’m a virgin. I honestly think he’s worried I won’t be one after the exam, but he won’t tell me that.”

  She smiled broadly, “Leese, you have a period every month; it flows out of your body. There will be an opening, however small for me to complete the exam. I’m not doing a pap smear or anything like that so you don’t need to worry. Most young women by the time they reach your age actually don’t have a hymen left to prevent intercourse,
but I’m very careful and I promise you I’m not going to ruin anything for either one of you. You’ll be fine.”

  I was comfortable, up until the point where I was sitting on that stupid exam table with the even stupider paper gown that didn’t want to stay shut. Now I was having serious regrets about my ‘I’ve got to learn all about birth control,’ moment.

  She returned to the room with a nurse, “Okay, we’re going to start with a breast exam. Lean back on the table for me. Do you do a regular check for lumps or irregularities in your breasts?”

  “No, but I know it’s something I need to learn.”

  She opened the gown but stopped immediately when she saw the scar on my chest, “You’ve had a recent injury?”

  “It’s a—a gunshot wound,” I said quickly.

  “I wondered if you were the young woman that had been on the news. I know your mother, but I wasn’t sure if you were the person all the stories were about.”

  “That would be me,” I sighed, wondering if she would recognize Micah’s name from the news as well. But she went right back to being professional and no more was mentioned.

  We went through the exam and she explained how to start at the nipple and work my way out in a small circular pattern to feel for problems. She discussed selecting a time each month for making this a routine for the rest of my life. That wasn’t so bad. Maybe this exam business wasn’t so tough after all. But, then she went to the other end of the table.

  Doctor Kannova smiled as she asked me to relax. The stirrups came out and she placed my heels in them. I couldn’t help being nervous by this point.

  “You’ll have to part your legs, Leese,” she stated as her chilly gloved hands touched the outside cheeks on my buttocks, “and I’ll need you to scoot down toward me.”

  Suddenly I had a feeling that a gynecological exam before my wedding night wasn’t the best of ideas. Although I was unwilling, I obeyed her request and tried to relax.

  Her fingers were probing gently at first and then firmly.

  “That’s uncomfortable,” I managed to say, through my clinched teeth.