Chapter 38

Flipping through the dented,glossy pages of an old magazine, I do my best to focus on the reading material. The wait at the doctor’s office is taking forever. I’ve already thumbed through the trashy celebrity gossip magazines and the single issue of Time, so that only left me with a fitness magazine from last year, or the current parenting magazine with an adorable baby on the cover offering me a big, gummy grin.
Currently I am trying to focus on how to banish that stubborn tricep fat so I can rock a tank top like the hottest Hollywood starlets.
Glancing up from the magazine, I look at the reception desk again. The woman closed the frosted window after checking in the last patient, and now I can’t keep my gaze from drifting over to them. A woman and her husband are seated on the other side. Her stomach is protruding, her hand absently rubbing the big bump.
I should have probably just gone to my general practitioner, but given Carter has had unprotected sex with me, I thought the gynecologist would be best. I should probably ask for a full panel of STD testing, regardless of Carter’s claim that he’s clean. Carter is a lying whore, so maybe he’s crawling with infections and just doesn’t know it.
Ugh.
Scowling, I flip past a few more pages before coming to the end of the magazine.
With a sigh, I put it back on the end table beside me and glance at the cute baby cover again. I refuse to touch it, as if distancing myself will somehow lessen the risk of unprotected sex. Now that I’ve broken up with Carter I’m not even sure I need birth control, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
Not to mention, while I assume Carter will accept the break-up and move on, there’s always the off chance he won’t. Given our first interaction, if he decides to go back to bullying me now that I’m not sleeping with him, it’s possible he’ll take it to a new level. It’s possible Carter could get angry at my rejection once he realizes I’m serious and I’m sticking to my guns. It’s possible Carter could be inside me again before it’s all over with, whether I want him to be or not.
Just to cover all my bases, I think getting on birth control is the right choice.
“Zoey Ellis.”
I look up at the woman in scrubs holding a clipboard. She flashes me a quick, polite smile. I grab my purse and stand, then approach her with a quick, polite smile of my own. “Hello.”
Holding the door open, she nods inside. “Follow me this way.”
I follow her and go through the routine. Afterward she takes me to an exam room. Given what I’ve told her, she tells me I can undress because the doctor will probably want to give me a pelvic exam.
Once I’m changed into the thin paper gown and perched on the exam table, there’s nothing to do but wait. Waiting leads to thinking, and waiting in a paper gown on a table at my OB-GYN’s office leads my thoughts back to babies. I can’t shake the dread of having to tell even a doctor I had unprotected sex several times like an idiot. Logically I know the doctor doesn’t care and isn’t going to judge me, but it’s not something I would have done on my own, it’s not something I approve of myself doing, so in my imagination the sensible doctor is similarly horrified.
When she actually comes in, it’s with a polite, distracted smile, and a clipboard in hand. “Hi, how are you today?”
Stupid. “Good,” I offer, mirroring back her polite smile. I fold my hands together awkwardly in my lap. I have never actually been to the OB-GYN before, usually my general practitioner is sufficient.
“So, what brings you in today, Zoey?” she asks, glancing at the clipboard, then back at me. “I see you want to get on some birth control.”
I nod my head, absently squeezing my knees together. “Yes, that’s the main thing. I was also thinkin’ if it’s something you can do now, maybe I should get tested. I don’t think I have anything,” I offer quickly. “But just to be safe.”
Dr. Lucker nods. “Have you had unprotected sex recently?”
Swallowing, I nod my head. “Yes. A couple times. I know it was dumb,” I assure her, lest she feel the need to tell me. “It was spontaneous. If you can do something spontaneous multiple times…”
Smiling kindly at my somewhat apologetic tone, she tells me, “Accidents happen. When was this?” she asks, uncapping her pen and taking notes on her clipboard.
“Over the weekend.”
She nods. “And did you take anything afterward?”
“You mean like the morning after pill? No.”
“How long have you been sexually active?” she inquires.
“Since over the weekend,” I offer dryly.
She nods and glances up from the clipboard to look at me. “How many partners?”
“Just the one.”
Pressing the nub of her pen to paper, she jots a few more casual notes. She asks a few more common questions about when my last period was and how long I generally go between cycles. Then she declares—like an afterthought—that it’s possible I was ovulating over the weekend, and if not, I will be soon.
With my heart in my throat, I ask her, “Can you—I mean, it hasn’t been—Is there a blood test or something you could take to make sure I’m not?”
This time, she shakes her head. “It’s too early. It’s actually early enough that you don’t have to worry about it. If the earliest you had unprotected sex was 3 days ago, I can write you a prescription for emergency birth control, if you’d like. As long as you take it up to five days after possible conception, and it’s very effective.”
I wish I hadn’t let paranoia compel me to search online for information about how soon an embryo can actually implant. There were just enough delusionally excited expectant moms insisting they knew they were pregnant the day after conception for me to let my more logical side win this particular argument. “Wouldn’t that be more of an early abortion pill than preventative birth control?”
Her gaze drifts to mine a little more warily. “It’s emergency birth control.”
“It’s not 100% effective though, right? So, if I took it and I was pregnant, and I happened to be one of the people it wasn’t effective for, would it harm the baby?” I shake my head, waving her off. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need that. I’m sure I’m not pregnant. I’d rather not have to make a decision about that unless I absolutely have to, so why don’t we just wait and see. I don’t need the emergency birth control, but I would like to get birth control that is effective as soon as possible. The guy and I already broke up, so I don’t think I’ll actually be having sex in the immediate future, but I wanna be prepared just in case. I don’t want to go through worrying like this again.”
The polite doctor nods her head. “All right.”

I’m exhaustedby the time I get home. Someone called off at work while I was at the doctor’s appointment, so as soon as I left I had to head straight to work and stay until close. Carter has been blowing up my phone since school. Telling me we need to talk, that he’s sorry, that I didn’t give him a chance to adequately explain.
I don’t want to hear any of it and I’m too tired, so I do the smartest thing—delete the message so all of his texts are gone. I plug the charger into my dying phone and climb into bed, then I sigh and arrange all my books around me. Since I had to work unexpectedly, I have a crap ton of homework to catch up on. The good thing about that is it makes me feel like I’m on the right track—and gives me absolutely no time to think of Carter.
A couple minutes after midnight when I’m finished, I finally check my phone before I crawl into bed. I expect to see more messages from Carter, but there aren’t any. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, but foolishly, I feel more of the latter emotion than I want to. I can’t help thinking how today might have gone if Erika hadn’t accosted me with reality this morning. I would have come home from a long day of life, curled up in bed, and wasted a bunch of time talking to Carter. I would have told him about my doctor’s appointment and insisted he probably already planted a little Carter clone inside me to try and make him sweat, but he wouldn’t have because he’s crazy.
I already miss him. That’s annoying. It was so hurtful to see him with Erika. I was so angry when it became clear he lied to me, so disappointed that he even went over there at all, but my heart hasn’t caught up to my new reality as completely as I thought it had. Now, in the quiet, in the complete aloneness, I recall the feeling of Carter’s warm body snuggled up against mine. My memory brings to life the feel of his featherlight touch as he trailed a finger along the curve of my shoulder. The tickle along my nape when his lips brushed that sensitive spot.
In the absence of Carter’s arms, temptation wraps itself around me. I lie awake telling myself to go to sleep, but my phone beckons me. I resist for a while, tossing and turning, but the lure of Carter keeps me awake.
Finally, I reach for the phone. My eyes are heavy but my mind won’t quiet down, so rather than try resisting temptation, I decide to check in on Carter. He’ll never know I did it, so it doesn’t matter. Rather than text him, I check out his social media. It’s hardly a window to his soul most of the time, so I don’t know what I expect to find.
I find nothing. It’s unusual for Carter not to keep up appearances, but he hasn’t updated any of his social media since I dumped him.
Sighing, I put my phone back on charge and snuggle up under my blanket. I’m too warm with it on, but I crave the cocoon-like comfort.
My bedroom door eases open, but the light stays off. My mom must be checking in on me before she goes to bed. I didn’t tell her I broke up with Carter, but I’ve been in a surly mood since I walked in the door tonight. I don’t feel like talking about it though, least of all with her, so I don’t roll over. I keep my back to the door and let her think I’m asleep already.
After a few seconds, she accepts that I’m asleep and doesn’t want to disturb me. The door closes with a soft click and I breathe a little sigh of relief.
At least, until my bed sags with the weight of someone climbing on it. My mom might open the door to check on me, but she wouldn’t come in and sit down on my bed when she thinks I’m asleep. I turn to investigate, but I already have a wild suspicion who I’ll find there.
Sure enough, when I roll over, I see the dark silhouette of Carter Mahoney climbing onto my bed.