by R. C. Martin
“Okay. I’ve just never seen you so enthusiastic about a call before.” She shrugged her shoulders, as if to imply her probing was innocent.
Judah would not be fooled.
“Enthusiastic isn’t the word I would use. Now—”
Before he could change the subject, Logan sucked in a breath. Leaning toward him excitedly, she asked, “Wait, was that Teddy?”
“Who’s Teddy?” interjected Brittany.
Judah casted a pointed glare at Logan as he started to say, “She’s none of—”
“She’s his girlfriend,” Logan cut in with a grin.
“You have a girlfriend?”
Judah closed his eyes in a long blink and exhaled slowly. With a shake of his head, he shifted his focus onto the tablet in front of him and replied, “Can we proceed with the agenda of this meeting?”
“Oh, my god,” Logan guffawed. “You didn’t deny it.”
“Logan—”
“You didn’t. I called her your girlfriend, and—”
“Make your point,” muttered Judah.
It was obvious she wasn’t going to let him escape the conversation without an admittance of some kind. They were friends, which he was beginning to understand meant she felt privy to his personal life. And as much as he wished to be out of their current conversation, he knew he had been known to cross a line with her on more than one occasion. In a way, he brought this on himself.
“Can you just be normal for two seconds?” she teased. “Be a normal guy falling for a pretty woman and admit it!”
He didn’t respond right away. He glanced from Logan to Brittany—who appeared shocked by the nature of their conversation—and then back to the former. While he had no intention of confiding in either of them, he felt compelled to offer something; if for nothing else, then so they could proceed with their meeting.
“My girlfriend is not up for discussion,” he said, quirking an eyebrow at Logan. “Have I made myself clear?”
Speaking through a chuckle, Logan nodded and replied, “Completely.”
“Great. Brittany, what have you got?”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Judah told me he wasn’t worried about my test results. With my body wrapped around his, and my desire at the forefront of my mind, I wasn’t worried either. Even when I showed up for my initial appointment, I didn’t think I had anything to worry about. I hadn’t had sex with anyone after or even before Justin. What I wanted, more than anything, was to know my options for birth control.
I was on birth control when I was dating Justin. Then the rape happened, and everything changed. It was like my world stopped spinning in one direction and started spinning the opposite way. I lost my balance, and it took a long time to find my footing again. The morning after, I wasn’t thinking about birth control. Not the morning after. Not the week after. Not even a year after.
The morning after, I was stupid enough to think maybe he would come back. I hoped it was all some colossal misunderstanding. I believed it possible that he hadn’t meant it, that he loved me, and he was sorry. It wasn’t until I was met with silence that I started to feel dirty, used, and ruined. I remember standing under the hot spray of the shower until it was freezing cold—and still, the residue of him remained.
A couple days went by before I had the courage to tell a single soul. When I did, when I confided in someone I thought was my friend, she didn’t believe me. He had gotten to her first, I knew—I could see it in her eyes. Somehow, I became the liar, which made me feel worthless.
An entire week went by before I could bring myself to call Harper. She was with me as soon as she could be. She cried with me, held me, and reminded me I wasn’t completely alone. When she tried to convince me to tell the police and report Justin, I couldn’t do it. It was my word against his, and I’d seen how well that would work out for me already. This also meant I couldn’t tell our parents—not simply because they would also try to convince me to go to the police, but because my dad was the police. Of course, it was in a different county and town, but that wasn’t the point.
In the end, and over time, I went against all the rules and proper protocol. Instead, I found my way into a church. It took me a few months, but I had been walking by one afternoon, and it just seemed like a good idea. It was God who pulled me out of the darkness. I couldn’t explain it. Even then, the connection I had with Him felt complicated—but He was the light; and whenever I felt overcome by the darkness, I knew where to go.
When I was asked to return to my doctor’s office to discuss my test results, it felt like the shadows of my past were encroaching on me. I couldn’t say for sure, but it didn’t sound like birth control was what my doctor wanted to talk to me about. I arranged my follow-up appointment as soon as I could, and it was Friday afternoon when I stepped away from work and drove across town.
Upon my arrival, I waited anxiously in the lobby for nearly a half an hour before I was escorted back to an exam room. I then waited another fifteen minutes before Dr. Murphy entered. I jumped when she knocked on the door, startled out of my distracted thoughts. When she saw me, she smiled, but I could tell right away something was off.
If I had to use any word to describe the woman, it would be jovial. She was a tall woman, with a little extra cushion around her middle that softened her. Before that week, it had been too long since I saw her last, but I remembered first meeting her when I moved to Fort Collins for school. I thought she seemed distinguished and intelligent, but always warm and genuine. She had lovely brown eyes decorated with laugh lines—and I could tell she wasn’t ashamed of her wrinkles. Her voice was melodious, and her laugh was like a trill; only, I could tell by the look in her eyes there would be no laughter shared between us that afternoon.
“Theodora, thanks for taking the time to come back so soon,” she said, pulling up her stool. Dr. Murphy sat across from me, and I had to look down a little from where I was perched on the exam table. She set my folder in her lap and clasped her hands together on top of it as she looked to me and said, “I’m afraid I’ve got some difficult news, kiddo.”
My stomach plummeted at the same time my heart rate picked up speed. I had no idea what she might possibly say, and my mind raced in an attempt to prepare—but it was no use.
“Your test results came back with a positive result of chlamydia. Chlamydia is a very commonly seen STI, and it is treatable with a round of antibiotics. However, what concerned me upon receiving these results was that you documented it has been quite some time since you’ve had sexual intercourse. When left untreated, chlamydia can also lead to further diseases.”
She paused then. In her silence, I felt it as my world fell out of orbit.
“Theodora, your blood panel also tested positive for PID, pelvic inflammatory disease.”
I didn’t have any words. Not a single one. My whole body was shaking, and I could feel my skin growing sticky with sweat. I could hardly understand what she was saying. I had been checked out so I could be put on birth control, but she was telling me I had been living my life with a disease I knew nothing about.
“I don’t—I don’t understand,” I whispered.
“You stated you haven’t had sex in the last six months. I need to know about how long it’s been. While you can certainly be treated and cured, there are lasting effects associated with PID depending on how long you’ve been a carrier. I’d like to run a few more tests, but information from you will also be helpful.”
“What—what, um, what kind of lasting effects?”
Dr. Murphy hesitated and then said, “While it will be entirely possible for you to have a healthy and safe sex life, depending on the state of your sexual organs, it may be extremely difficult, if not impossible, for you to reproduce. Again, I’d like to run some more tests, but the longer this has been—”
“Oh, my god,” I breathed, clutching my fingers desperately. My throat constricted, and I could barely swallow, let alone speak. Still, I managed to admit, “Four years. It�
�s been four years.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m going to get Patty in here, and she’ll gather the samples we need so I can get you more answers. Until then, I’m going to write you a prescription for the necessary antibiotics…”
She kept talking, and I watched her write the script, but it was like I was being rushed through a tunnel. I couldn’t hear her. I could barely make sense of all she said. When she finally stood, handing me a sheet of paper, I realized she was leaving.
“Wait,” I murmured, speaking around the knot which clogged my throat. “I can’t—I mean, are you saying—I won’t be able to have babies?”
“Four years is a very long time, dear. I won’t know for sure until we run more tests, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I hate to have to tell you this, but I won’t lie to you either. I’ll send Patty in right away, okay?”
I took the script, and she squeezed my hand. She might have said something before she left, but I couldn’t catch it or hold it. When the nurse practitioner entered the room a few minutes later, I went through the motions mutely. As I laid on the table, everything Dr. Murphy said circled its way around my brain. Over and over, I heard chlamydia and pelvic inflammatory disease. As the reality of my situation was repeated in my thoughts, it became more real.
Then, all at once, as if someone had snapped their fingers, it hit me.
Justin did this to me.
I didn’t know I was crying until Patty gave me a tissue and told me she was finished and I could go. My tears were silent ones. They were tears I hadn’t given myself permission to cry. In truth, I thought I was holding them back, keeping them for when I was alone; but it turned out the weight I felt in my chest, the emotion I thought I was harboring—it was too big. I wasn’t strong enough to keep it all bottled up.
By the time I was dressed, the pain I felt inside hurt so much, I thought I might burst. I needed to get out of there. I needed space to breathe. To cry. To scream.
As fast as my heels would allow, I raced out of the office and into the parking lot. I fumbled with my keys until I managed to unlock my door and dropped into the driver’s seat. After I closed myself in, I grabbed hold of the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. I wasn’t going to make it until I got home. I could feel it, like a volcanic eruption. My whole body shook with emotion, and it felt like I had been thrust back in time. It was like Justin just left—and I was nothing but a pile of bones in the middle of the floor.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, wailing in the parking lot. All I knew was that at some point, my anguish turned into disgust. It was visceral and all consuming. Like my disease wasn’t a disease so much as it was Justin still inside of me. My mind tricked me into believing I could smell him on me, and I thought I might vomit if I didn’t wash him off. With shaky hands, I jammed my keys into the ignition, started the car, and raced towards home.
As soon as I stepped foot into my apartment, I began shedding clothes. Slamming the door behind me, I kicked off my shoes. Then went my blouse, my skirt, my panties, my bra. I was naked when I reached the bathroom, and I turned the water on in the tub as hot as it would go. When I stepped under the spray of the shower, it burned, but I didn’t even care. The heat and the pain mirrored what my insides felt like, and it made me want to scream. So I did.
I screamed, and I yelled, and I cursed. In anger, I beat my fists against the wall; and in desperation, I scrubbed my body vigorously. Yet, in the end, all I felt was sorrow and the scars of my past—the reality of my future—and the hopelessness of the moment. I sank into the corner of the tub, curled up into a ball, and wept for reasons I understood, and for everything I felt and couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
Chapter Fifty
Geoffrey frowned when he glanced at his phone. He sent Teddy a text an hour before, and she never responded. He knew she had an appointment that afternoon, but he expected her back at the gallery. Closing time was in less than an hour, and she never returned. He didn’t need her for any particular reason, but it was her unusual behavior which worried him.
He called but received no answer. When it happened again, he decided something was wrong. Fifteen minutes before the gallery was due to close, he knocked on Andrew’s office door. His cousin glanced away from his computer, his expression all the indicator Geoffrey needed that he had the man’s attention.
“I’ve got to cut out early. Teddy’s not answering her phone. She had her doctor appointment earlier, neither of us have heard from her, and—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted as he stood. Making his way out from behind his desk, he continued, “I’ll come out now.”
“Thanks,” Geoffrey said with a nod.
Andrew furrowed his brow and shook his head, as if combatting away the word. “Let me know when you find her.”
“I will.”
On his way to his vehicle, Geoffrey tried calling Teddy again. He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t pick up, but it concerned him all the more. As he started driving toward her apartment, he made up his mind that if he didn’t find her there, he’d call Harper. Until then, he didn’t want to cause any excess worry.
When he arrived at her building, he was marginally relieved to find Teddy’s car in the parking lot. Although, as he reached her front door and found it unlocked, he hesitated. Frowning, he let himself in and looked around.
“Teddy?” he called, shutting the door behind him.
She didn’t respond, and he hesitated once more at the sight of her trail of clothing. Hearing the running water of a shower, he made his way further into her living room, thinking she might not have heard him.
“Teddy?” he called again, louder this time.
Met with silence once more, he peeked around the corner and down the short hallway. When he saw the bathroom door open, he cursed under his breath. He could see her in the tub, curled up naked and shivering.
“Freckles?” he tried for the last time.
Still, she didn’t respond. He shook his head and hurried toward her. Her eyes were open, and he could see the tear streaks that stained her cheeks. She looked broken in a way he’d never seen her before, and it spurred him into action.
“Teddy, baby, let’s get you out of here, okay?”
He didn’t need to feel a drop of water to know it was ice cold. He turned it off and then pivoted in search of a towel. Grabbing the one which hung on the rack, he opened it and did his best to cover her nakedness before he lifted her out of the tub and into his arms.
“Teddy? Baby girl, look at me,” he insisted softly. She was dripping all over him, but he didn’t care. “Teddy, please.”
He felt it as her shame began to awaken her. She curled up against him, but she wouldn’t look at him. With her eyes sealed closed tight, more tears leaked down her face as she whispered, “He ruined everything.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
“Justin,” she wept. “He’s still hurting me.”
She was breaking his heart. He held her tighter, but he didn’t feel big enough, warm enough, or strong enough to keep her in one piece. He didn’t know what happened. He didn’t know why she had been to the doctor, or what news had resulted in her current state; he only understood that it was catastrophic in its own way. Inadequate as he felt, he knew he would do anything for her—and so he did.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he carried her out of the bathroom and into her bedroom. Before he laid her on her bed, he told her, “I’m going to put you down, and I’m going to make you some coffee to help warm you up. We need to get you dry. If you can’t do it, I will—okay?”
“He won’t want me now,” she cried. “No one will want me now.”
It frustrated him that he couldn’t make sense of her words, but she was speaking. He couldn’t deny something was better than nothing. Even still, he knew she would overcome whatever she was battling, and he wanted her to do so with her dignity intact.
“Oh, baby girl,” he sighed, pressing his lips to her f
orehead once more. He held her for a moment longer, then gently set her on her bed. “Put something warm on. I’ll be right back.”
Geoffrey wasn’t convinced he’d come back and find her dressed, but he gave her the chance anyway. He didn’t look back as he headed for the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. While it brewed, he went back through her apartment and picked up her clothing. He folded it and left it in a pile on her couch. It was when he picked up her purse that he saw the slip of paper peeking out from the top. Noticing it was a prescription script, he glanced toward the bedroom and then plucked it out.
He set aside her purse, then stripped out of his damp suit jacket. He returned to the kitchen and set the paper on the counter as he reached for his phone. Loosening his tie with one hand, he googled the medicine listed with his other. It didn’t take him long to figure out why Teddy needed treatment. He whispered a curse and raked his fingers through his hair as pieces started to fall into place and make sense. He didn’t have the whole story, he knew—but he had a clue.
After he poured Teddy a mug full of coffee, he returned to her room. He was relieved to find her sitting on the edge of the bed in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. Her hair was still dripping, and she was still shivering, but he could handle that.
“Here,” he said, placing the mug in her hands.
Without another word, he took up her towel and went about drying her hair as best he could. She cried the whole time and didn’t once take a sip of coffee. Unsure of the words to say, Geoffrey took a seat beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Teddy leaned into him right away, and he understood what she wanted. He took her coffee and set it on her nightstand, then gathered her in his arms completely.
“I can’t have kids,” she said. Her voice was so soft and husky, he barely understood what she said. Yet, before he could ask for clarification, she was speaking again. “I don’t even know if I wanted them. Now it doesn’t matter. And it’s because of him. But maybe it’s because of me, too. I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t know.”