Futures and Frosting (Chocolate Lovers #2)(54)

“Claire, how are you doing today?” he asks as he walks into the room with a nurse following close behind.

“Oh, I’m just super. Did you do something new with these gowns? They seem to have much more coverage,” I say sarcastically.

“Ah, Claire, you always say the nicest things,” he laughs as he takes a seat on his little stool with wheels and looks over my chart.

The nurse comes up next to me and takes my blood pressure and checks my pulse, reporting the numbers to Dr. Williams so he can notate them.

“Well, your BP is good and you don’t have a fever. When was your last menstrual cycle?”

I count backward through the weeks in my head and then stop and count again.

“Well, it was…I remember it was a Tuesday because that’s the day my supplies are delivered, and I was in the middle of signing for the white chocolate when I felt cramps,” I ramble, trying not to panic.

One, two, three, four, carry the seven, multiply by eight…FUCK!

I glance over at the calendar hanging on the wall. This month shows a black and white cat with wide eyes and both of its paws covering its mouth as if to say 'Oops!'.

Fuck you, you stupid cat! I can’t count with you staring at me like that. And if cats really could say “Oops” they’d do it when they shit on the SIDE of the litter box instead of in it.

I stare at the squares and the numbers on the calendar until they all start to blur together, either from eye strain or tears, I'm not sure which.

“First, how about we just have you scoot down to the end of the table and we’ll check you out. You’re due for your yearly exam next month anyway so we might as well get that taken care of,” Dr. Williams says as he slides his chair closer to me while the nurse pulls out the extension at the end of the table and adjusts the stirrups for my feet.

I lie back and put my legs up in the air while the nurse slides a table over with the pap test kit already set up on top.

Right now, I wouldn’t mind a little Drew humor to take my mind off of things. Something to the effect of, “How’s that cunt scrape coming along?”

I squeeze my eyes shut while the doctor goes to work, sticking his hands where only one man has gone before.

“So, have you been watching the new Bachelorette? That chick is a train wreck!” Dr. Williams says with a laugh.

“Um…”

“Did you see when she got all trailer park on that one guy? Wagging her finger and shaking her head? You can take the girl out of the trailer park…” Dr. Williams trails off with another laugh as I hear the metal clink of the speculum.

“My daughter likes to watch that stupid show just to see the pretty dresses she’s going to wear,” he tells me as he continues working between my legs.

No really, it’s perfectly fine to talk about reality television and YOUR KID while your fingers are all up in my business. How does this work when he’s at home? Is it the exact opposite when he’s sitting around the dinner table? “So did I tell you about this woman today? Her cooch hadn’t been shaved in days. What a trainwreck! Can you pass the potatoes? I only treat her because she’s got a pretty uterus. How did you do on your spelling test, Cindy Lou?

Dr. Williams finishes digging to China, slides back and slips off his rubber gloves while he stands.

The nurse takes my arm and helps me sit up. I try to situate the paper shirt and skirt thing to cover myself back up but it seems like the f*cking thing shrunk. I give up and just keep my legs as tightly together as I can. It doesn’t seem appropriate to flash the goods to the doctor now that the exam was over. It would be like walking up to your dentist in the grocery store and showing him your teeth. There is a time and a place for everything.

“So? Is everything okay? What’s next?” I ask, hoping since he hasn’t said much during the exam, aside from television gossip, that all is good and I'm worrying for nothing.

“Well, we’ll order up some blood work, and I’ll see you back here in four weeks,” he said with a smile as he wrote something else on my chart. “Congratulations, you’re pregnant!”

~

Did you know The Dollar Store sells pregnancy tests? It’s true. And even though all these stupid dollar stores should change their names to “The Dollar Store – Everything Isn’t Really a Dollar, We Just Like to Fuck With You”, pregnancy tests are in fact one of the few things there that actually only cost one dollar. Which begs me to ask the question why the hell did I get a dirty look from the cashier when I asked for all thirty-seven tests? Like that’s never happened before? They are pregnancy tests for ONE DOLLAR, people. Gavin gets one dollar for doing chores around the house every once in a while. Even HE can afford to buy a pregnancy test. Why a four-and-a-half-year-old would need to buy a pregnancy test is beyond me, but these are the facts.

Arguing with the cashier and telling her I hope she slams her ginormous tits into the drawer of the cash register probably isn’t my finest moment, but it keeps my mind off of the fact that I might be pregnant.

Yes, I said might. I have just finished peeing on the twenty-third test and Dr. Williams had told me I was pregnant when he fondled my uterus, but he could have been wrong. Doctors get things wrong all the time. They remove a kidney when they mean to remove a gallbladder, and they forget to take clamps and shit out of someone before they sew them up. He could definitely be wrong about my uterus. How many uteri does he stroke on a daily basis? Maybe he's just off his game. Maybe he hadn't even been touching my uterus but had his hand around my spleen. But that would probably mean he was up to his elbows in my vagina. It had been uncomfortable, but not elbows-deep uncomfortable.