All the Waters of the Earth

Chapter 33: Recidivism

Four days later, I walked into my doctor's office, checked in with the receptionist, and sat down on the one open seat. The waiting room was packed with people, and four of the women surrounding me had huge bellies.

Oh shit. I knew it wasn't contagious. But still, it was unbearably uncomfortable being here.

The office attempted to have a personality, with funky patterns on the chairs, and piles of magazines.  Regardless, it was an institutional doctor's office. I mainly focused on trying to avoid panicking.

Every morning since Sunday in Palm Springs I got sick. My boobs hurt. I was achy.

No fucking way.

I had been on the pill for twelve years, ever since after I gave birth to Rob. This couldn't be happening again. Right? Right?

The door opened to the waiting room, and a nurse with a clipboard and purple scrubs called, "Lucy?" Gathering my purse, I stood up. Going to this appointment on my own was my idea, and I made the appointment for a time when Jake was at work and Rob was in school, not wanting to tell anyone, in case I was wrong. Now that I was actually here, however, I knew that I had not made the right decision by coming here by myself. Some support would have been welcome. I knew deep down, as well, what I was going to find out today. I was sure that my suspicions would be confirmed. A woman knows. I just didn't understand why it had happened.

The nurse weighed me in the hall, and then walked me into an exam room. I perched on the paper-covered examination table, the crinkle sound registering loudly in the quiet room.

I breathed in and out.

"When was your last menstrual cycle?" the nurse asked.

I told her. "I'm three days late," I whispered. "I'm on the pill. It's always on time, exactly."

"Let's have you take a urine test," she said. She opened a drawer, pulled out a test, and handed it to me. I hopped off the table, and walked the plank down the hall to the bathroom.

It felt like a doomed trip, like I was headed for my sentencing date at my trial. What was the punishment going to be? Another eighteen years?

I took the test.

Yep. Pregnant.

The hall closed in on me, as I walked back to the examination room to wait. My doctor came in, congratulating me on the pregnancy, but I was in a daze. I managed to ask, "How did this happen?"

"When you were prescribed doxycycline for the community acquired pneumonia, it lowered the effectiveness of your oral contraception for about five days."

I just stared at her.

She repeated in English, "The antibiotics made the pill not work. So, obviously, since you're pregnant, stop taking your pill, and start taking a good prenatal vitamin." She went on, giving me instructions, and handing me pamphlets. Somehow I got out of there, with a follow up appointment scheduled. I went out to my car and buckled myself in.

I was pregnant with Jake's baby.

And all I could think was that I did it again. Total recidivist. You would think that I had learned from my past. But I was pissed because I had learned from Carlos. I was on the pill, and had always been careful. This was not fair.

But now I was yet again going to be a mother.

I started crying, sitting in my driver's seat, not going anywhere. Raging hormones stirred up the memories of the abandonment I felt when Carlos had dropped me after he found out I was pregnant. I had made a promise to myself that I would never get into the same circumstance that I was in with Carlos, but here I was, a second time over pregnant, unwed, woman.

FUCK.

I was collapsing on the inside, my brain resurrecting every negative thing that I had ever heard said, not just to me, but in general, about pregnant, unwed mothers. These thoughts had found a landing space somewhere in my psyche in the form of shame, and I started talking to myself in the most unhealthy way. About how my baby daddy was going to leave me, and how I was going to have to fight for child support. And so on.

But I needed to get home. It was almost lunchtime. I needed to clean up my face so that I didn't scare Rob when he got home from school. Thinking of a way to tell Jake was going to take some time, and I had no idea when to do it.

When I opened my front door, an overwhelming smell of good food invaded my nostrils. What on earth?

"Lucy?" called Jake. "I wanted to surprise you with making you lunch. I thought you would be here, but when you weren't, I started cooking."

Wiping my eyes, I set myself in the doorway, unsure of what to do. He rounded the corner from the kitchen, took one look at my face, and his smile disappeared. "Lucy honey, what is it?"

I stood there, mute, unable to tell him. Tears streamed down my face again, as I held on to the doorknob for support. I dropped my purse and just looked at him.

He closed the gap between us and folded me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. He held me for a long time, not saying anything, just holding me. I could hear his heartbeat, as my ear pressed into his chest, and it soothed me. His strong arms around me also soothed me. And his head cradling the top of my head, with his lips kissing my hair.

After a few moments, we broke apart, and neither one of us said anything. He stepped away for a moment, went down the hall, and came back with a box of Kleenex. I smiled despite myself. "Thanks."

Feeling hopeless, useless, stuck, I just stood there by my doorway, wanting to tell him, needing to get it off of my chest, but not wanting to tell him at the same time, and have him react badly.

I was just so scared. The last time this had happened to me, it had not gone well.

But that was Carlos, and this was Jake. Jake, who told me that he loved me. Who had sacrificed for me, and who had taken care of my child. It had to be okay. It just had to. But I didn't know how he would react.

He brought a finger forward and trailed it along my jaw. Looking at me, straight into my brown eyes, he said, "You know you can tell me anything, right? Anything at all. It's okay, whatever it is, I'll help you with it. You'll be safe. I'll help. It's going to be okay."

And now it was my turn to rush into him, needing his embrace again, needing the assurances that everything was going to be okay. He let me cry into his chest not asking any questions, just letting it be.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he continued in a whisper. "But I'm here for you if you need to tell me something."

I took a deep breath.

And let it out.

And looked at him in his face straight out of one of my books. This guy who wasn't perfect, but who was sweet, sincere, artistic, thoughtful, and hot.

The best, most real man I had ever met.

Then I closed my eyes, opened them, and out came the words, "I'm pregnant."