“You mean, an obstetrician?” I ask him.
He clicks his fingers. “Yeah, that.”
“Thank you so much,” I say gratefully, feeling blessed to have someone—a virtual stranger—watching out for me. I still haven’t heard the full story about how he ended up working with Jase and Elliot to bust me out of Emilio’s compound, but I know the three have some kind of bizarre bromance going on. It’s kind of cute.
“Come see me before you go,” he says, giving me a meaningful stare. I nod, pocketing the directions.
Ten minutes before we are due to leave, I find him in the small woodshed attached to the back of the house. He’s sitting on an upturned milk crate, smoking a cigarette, almost like he’s been waiting for me. He stands and crushes the cigarette under his boot as I approach, waving the smoke away as if he’s forming a path of clean air for me. It’s insane how attentive these three are being on account of my being pregnant.
“Thanks again,” I say. “For setting this up. And for, you know…everything.”
He smiles. “You’re welcome,” he says. “Good choice on the outfit.”
I look down at what I’m wearing. I’m not sure what he’s saying until he pokes my arm. “The marks,” he says. “Don’t show the doctor, and if he sees, make something up.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
He shrugs, and starts walking toward the house. Right. That must be it.
The drive takes us half an hour. It’d be quicker, but a lot of the roads here are unsealed, and with the recent rain, Jase has to drive carefully to avoid us getting bogged. I can just imagine how that would turn out. Once we’re at the hospital and settled into the consultation room, Jase starts poking around at the equipment as I watch him from my spot on the exam table.
He pulls a face at me as he picks up a small replica of a woman’s pelvis with a cabbage patch doll’s head stuffed through the middle. It’s such a light-hearted thing, such an innocent moment, that I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at how little of these moments we’ve actually had together since he figured out who I was. I decide to go with laughing, and I have to cover my mouth with my hands to stop from sounding like the hysterical pregnant lady.
He puts the pelvis-doll display back down and smiles at me, a boyish grin that shows his dimples.
“I haven’t seen those in years,” I say, reaching out and pressing my finger into the deep dimple in his right cheek. He just keeps on smiling, a glint in his eye, and I realize that maybe he’s telling the truth. He’s excited. He’s actually happy to be here with me, even after everything that’s happened, even knowing that there is a chance this baby might belong to a monster instead of to him.
That realization makes me tear up, and his smile turns to concern. “You okay?”
I nod, smiling through my tears. “I’m better than okay,” I reply, reaching over and squeezing his hand.
The doctor arrives eventually, asking me a whole bunch of questions. When was my last period? Have I taken any drugs? Of course, I lie when he asks me that. Jase cannot find out what happened.
After he’s finished with his boring questions, and poked around my stomach a little bit—I’ve explained my wound as a burn from a wood fire, though I don’t know if he buys it—he sends us down the corridor with a slip of paper. As we’re walking to the ultrasound department, Jase stops me with a tug at my elbow.
“Why did you lie?” he asks me. “That’s not a burn.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. How do I explain what really happened?”
Jase seems to think about that for a moment.
“Like, really,” I add. “How do I even begin to put that into words?”
“Yeah,” he says, and the anger is back. “I suppose you’re right.”
I don’t want him to be angry. As we keep walking toward the radiology department, I slip my hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He squeezes my hand back, our secret language, the thing we used even as teenage sweethearts to talk to each other without using words. I look at him sidelong, and he flashes me a smile. We’re okay. This is going to be okay.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. I might’ve felt the baby move a few times, but I don’t know if it’s okay. I can only hope and pray that whatever horrors I’ve experienced in the past three months haven’t affected it.
It doesn’t take long for the technician to get me half-naked and on the bed. I should’ve worn a dress, I think to myself as I shed my jeans and climb up on the table. I take a deep breath as I realize my hands are shaking. I am so nervous right now.