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Through more maniacal laughter, I answered. “Oh, yes.”
“I’d like to perform an exam, after which we can discuss the next steps.”
As she poked, prodded, and pressed on different parts of my body, the doctor asked if I recalled when my last menstrual cycle was. I did, and it was before Thanksgiving, I realized as tears rolled down the side of my face. That hadn’t occurred to me until now? God, I was such an idiot.
“You can sit up,” the doctor said, holding out her hand to help me. “Based on the timing of your last period and other indicators, I’d say you’re still in your first trimester. You do have options.”
“What options?” Abortion? Was that what she was suggesting?
“I can’t help but notice you don’t seem happy about the news. I’d like to refer you to an OB/GYN who can discuss them with you. In the meantime, take this pamphlet home with you and think things over.”
Before leaving, the woman at the front desk scheduled an appointment for me to see the other doctor on Monday, giving me the weekend to “think things over.”
Earlier in the day, I’d told my mother to expect me home this weekend, so the first thing I did when I returned to my friend’s apartment was to call and tell her that something had come up and I’d be staying in the city after all.
“Is everything okay, mija?”
“Yes, fine,” I lied. “I had something come up that I need to take care of.” That was certainly the truth.
I spent the entire weekend alternating between crying and throwing up. Sometimes at the same time. By Sunday, I’d worked myself up into such a tizzy that I had to talk to someone.
Who, though? My mother? No way. My father? That would be worse, especially given the bizarre conversation he and I had had. I had a few friends from work, but the last thing I would tell any of them was that I was pregnant. Same with friends from school. If I did that, word would spread in our town like wildfire.
There was only one person I could trust not to say a word to anyone—Knox. And he was on a mission. But hadn’t he and Tackle both said it was a missing-person case? That had to mean there was less risk involved, right? It wasn’t like he was undercover somewhere.
“Hey, Sloane. Everything okay?”
While I’d vowed not to cry, the minute I heard my brother’s voice, I dissolved into sobs so intense I couldn’t speak.
“Sloane?” he said in a raised voice. “Is it something with Mom or Dad?”
“No, I’m sorry.” I blew my nose.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just…I need…I’m sorry.”
“Sloane, I can hardly hear you.”
“Is there…any…way…you can…come home? I know I’m asking a lot, but I need you, Knox.”
“You’re breaking up again, but if I’m needed at home, I can catch the next flight out. Tackle can finish things up for me here.”
“Tackle?”
“Long story, sis. He’s here in Italy.”
“You’re in Italy?”
“Yes…you’re breaking up again. I’ll be in touch when I land.”
It was morning by the time I heard from Knox again. I called the office and told the lead on my team that I needed to pick my brother up at the airport. Given they all knew about the plane crash, no one questioned my taking the time off.
I thought about bringing him back to the apartment, but the idea of telling my brother I was pregnant in the same place it happened, turned my stomach.
Instead, I drove to a diner that was far enough from the city and far enough from Newton that I doubted we’d run into anyone we knew.
Thankfully, Knox didn’t ask any questions until we were seated at a table in the back of the restaurant with no other customers in the vicinity.
