Mates of a Human

Part Five. Chapter Eight. Alex

Author's note; 18+

Yes. No. I don't know. Is it really happening...? Yes? No?

"Alex, are you listening to me?"

I shook the mists of denial from my mind and tried to concentrate on what Doctor Taylor... Nadine was saying. "I'm sorry," I apologised, sheepishly. I was in the staff break room and had not long finished drinking tea with Clover, before she was whisked away. Not that I had planned to meet with her... nor Doc... Nadine, who had decided that I was the perfect ear to bend. It was my day off, but I was due to meet Michael and Eric. I just had gotten here early after taking a cab and Michael was in a meeting, so I was chose to wait here. "What were you saying?"

"Do you think that white roses are too much? I mean I have red and pink roses in my planned bouquet already..." she had insisted I refer to her as Nadine, maybe trying to rope me in as a friend. Certainly someone at the hospital who would listen as she spoke of every tiny detail regarding her wedding. She was so excited and my own wedding was still so fresh in my happy memories that I didn't have the heart to turn her away.  A shame that my honeymoon ended the way it did.  Did you know I giggle way too much when intoxicated?

"I don't think so," I said, though I couldn't really imagine it too well, having lived without much colour in my life for a while. But I was kind of okay with that, seeing my amazingly vivid husbands against a backdrop of mostly grey was beyond description. Still tidbits of colour had been making themselves known, like the tiny purple plums I had noticed developing on a tree in the front garden and the deep brown of Clover's chocolate cake. "What does your fiancé think?"

She sighed. "To be honest, he hasn't involved himself much in the planning," she replied. "I think he is happy leaving the decisions to me. But as long as he shows up on the day and his jaw drops as he sees me coming down the aisle towards him, I'm okay with that."

"I'm sure he'll be in awe," I said, thinking to how my mates looked when I revealed myself in my white suit to them. Even though they themselves had chosen it, they looked at me with sparkling, unblinking eyes.  Just thinking about that releases a plethora of butterflies in my chest.

She smiled, her painted lips curving. I think she would look just as pretty to her husband to be without the makeup if she shared such smiles with him.

Michael chose that moment to peer around the door. "Are you ready?" He asked and I felt my own smile tightening. Yes...? No...?  Are we seriously doing this?  I'm nearly positive that this is all a false alarm, a dream... probably.

"What's going on?" Nadine asked, curiously, but I shook my head slightly.

"Nothing," I told her. We were not close enough to share something so personal to me after all. "Just some routine tests." Her curiosity was clearly not abated, but she just smiled and remained seated as I rose to my feet and reluctantly followed Michael out of geriatrics.

Denial is a funny thing. All the evidence could be placed in front of your eyes, but if you just don't want to believe, such can hold no weight. Take the little white stick on which a single line proves that you have taken the test correctly and a second line proves the test is positive. And say you took three of the same test and all three gave the same result. But no matter what appeared before you, you still could not wrap your head around it.

Then coffee became a no no, the heavy scent threatening to dispel whatever you held in your stomach. Salmon was also out, granted it was nutritious and healthy, but your nose curled in distaste whenever it was placed in front of you and you simply could not make the fork containing it pass your lips. I could no longer bear the smell of cleaning products without a lot of air circulation and a mask stifling them. But surely, that was just because you were under the weather right?