4. Am I okay?

1293 Words
BECKY POV No... Impossible. I’m seriously considering asking this woman to show proof of her medical degree. Wait! Maybe I fell down and hit my head. Or my fever caused me to pass out. That’s the only explanation, because what she is saying is impossible. I turned to look at Letty and she looked real, she felt real. “Ouch!” When she yelped, I realized I was indeed awake. I probably shouldn’t be pinching my boss. “Sorry.” I gave her sheepish smile and turned back to the doctor. “You’re wrong.” I stated firmly. Her eyebrows shot up and a smirk formed on her lips. I used to like this woman, but now… not so much. Not only do I feel like crap, but she’s talking nonsense. “I’ve been a doctor for over fifteen years. We ran your blood work twice to make sure. You are indeed pregnant.” Her voice was firm and held no room for argument. She has to be wrong. “I’m on the depo shot, it’s not possible.” They must have gotten my bloodwork mixed up with someone else’s. That’s the only explanation. “When are you do for a new shot?” She pulls out her notepad while I rack my brain. I’m so disoriented from the fever and my empty stomach that won’t stop doing flips, it’s making it hard to remember. I distinctly remember scheduling my appointment last year.... Oh, crap. Okay, so I was scheduled to get the shot but I got busy and postponed it because I wasn’t really getting it on the regular. It takes a long time to wear off anyway, so I figured I could get it later. Then I planned on getting the shot when I moved out here but I never got around to it. When the doctor sees my face, she gives me that look my mom gives me. I don’t like it. I moved almost a thousand miles to get away from that “te dije” (I told you) look. “Okay, so I messed up and didn’t get my shot but he always wore a condom.” I assured the doctor and myself. “Condoms break and people are forgetful.” She scrutinizes me. Before I lay into her, I remember that one time he got all cave man. He took me from behind and I didn’t make sure he put one on, but he wouldn’t do that. Why would he risk getting me pregnant? What sane man would do that if he didn’t intend on sticking around, or even if he did. Maybe because I told him I was on the shot. Oh no… this is not good. “Based on the look on your face, it’s possible the lab results are correct.” She paused and took out a paper. “I need you to answer these questions, so we can determine how far along you are.” She hands me the paper and I start to fill it out. Most of them are easy questions and I’m done quickly. Five weeks. I’m five weeks pregnant and the father is a runaway forest dweller. The doctor proceeded to give me a prescription for medication I can take while pregnant, as well as the prenatal vitamins and some other vitamins she recommended. I am scheduled to come back in two weeks for my first ultrasound and prenatal checkup. I heard everything the doctor said, even wrote some notes. All the while, my brain is working overdrive trying to figure out how I’m going to tell Matt when I no longer have his number and he’s clearly avoiding me. Would he even care if I did tell him? “Are you okay?” Letty asks while she drives me home. Am I okay? Let’s see… I have the flu, which wouldn’t be that bad if I wasn’t also pregnant, because the nausea I was feeling was actually morning sickness. The baby’s father isn’t… he just isn’t. I’m on my own, five weeks pregnant, and the only thing I know for certain is that I’m keeping the baby. That’s the only thing I’m one hundred percent sure of. “Soy una babosa. No me cuidé y ese baboso no va a ser de ninguna ayuda.” (I’m an i***t. I didn't take care of myself and that other i***t isn't going to be any help.) My boss really didn’t need to know how stupid I felt, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. One of her hands grabbed mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Vas a estar bien. No necesitas a ese baboso para crear a tu bebe.” (You'll be fine. You don't need that i***t to take care of your baby.) My head shot up in confusion. She had never spoken in Spanish before. Great, I’m sure I’ve said some very inappropriate things since I’ve been working for her. Especially when stupid Mr. Scowly gave me a hard time. She parked the car in front of my house and turned to face me. I was still in shock and the level of embarrassment was enough to move back home. Well, maybe not that much, but pretty close. “I’m from the Dominican Republic, my name is Leticia. My nickname is Lettie, but when I moved here everyone pronounced it Letty. After a while, I stopped correcting them. Never heard of Afro-Latina’s?” She quirked her eyebrow and gave me a little smile. “Girl, I come from California. Of course I have. You just never spoke Spanish and your last name is Adams.” I said indignantly. It didn’t make a difference to me if she was Afro-Latina, black or white like most of the population out here. I just assumed she was black and didn’t think much of it. Damn it, I sound like an asshole. I’ve been working with this woman for months and haven’t bothered really getting to know her. Here she is two steps away from spoon feeding me soup. “My husband’s last name is Adams, mine is Martinez. You never spoke to me in Spanish, and I enjoyed the colorful commentary you provided when you were scolding yourself or venting about Ranger Brand. Let’s get back to the point. You’re pregnant, the daddy is a no show. You’re not the first or last to be in that situation. If he comes around, tell him. If not, you will be enough.” She assured me with a shrug. That right there is how I know she’s destined to be more than my boss. Subtly telling me to stop my whining and grow up. That and she held my hair while I vomited and saw me half-naked. Most of my true friends back home have done that for me. Except that usually involved a bottle of vodka and a lot of pendeja (stupid) moves. “You’re right. I came here to prove I could make it on my own and this is the perfect opportunity to prove it.” I might not have expressed to Letty everything that’s been on my mind, but all I’ve been doing is having a pity party in my head. It’s time to stop complaining about how unfair my parents are when they could just as easily not care and let me squander away my life. Might as well tell Letty I will be going back home this weekend. If I survive this plague and can manage to keep my guts inside. My parents are throwing a baby shower for my sister-in-law and although I didn’t plan on attending. I need to be there for them and stop being so selfish.
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