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I’m too nervous, too scared of what she is going to tell me today. I haven’t told Quinton I came here to get checked. I wanted to know for myself first.
Dr. Lauren takes the seat in front of me, placing a folder on her lap. “I went over the ultrasound and all your tests again. Even contacted a friend of mine who is an OB/GYN to be sure since this is not my expertise. She agreed that my original diagnosis was correct. There is no permanent damage. You should have no problem conceiving children when you are ready.”
I suck in a breath, filling my lungs with much-needed oxygen. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ve run every test possible. The drug they gave you most likely caused you to have a miscarriage. Your reproductive organs are all healthy, and though you had some internal bruising, there is no permanent scar tissue.” Dr. Lauren gives me a reassuring smile, and this time, I’m able to smile back.
“Thank you. This really means a lot. I was so worried.”
“I know you were, and I am so glad I had good news for you. Now that we know you can get pregnant, would you like me to get you some birth control?”
“Yes, that would be great. I want kids, but I would like to wait a little. I have too much to figure out before I can be responsible for someone else.”
“Don’t worry. I have plenty of options for you.”
Dr. Lauren takes her time explaining different birth control to me, and I decide on getting the depo shot. One less thing to remember every day.
When I’m finally done and walking out of medical, I feel ten pounds lighter. Not wanting to waste my good mood, I head straight to the sunroom instead of going back to my apartment.
Something about sitting in the sunroom brings my spirits up even more. I’m sure it can’t be anything as simple as getting vitamin D in my system, but it can’t exactly hurt either. When I’m here, things feel simpler. Cleaner. It soothes my soul in a way even the library doesn’t.
I tip my head back, soaking in every bit of light filtering through the branches above me. Naturally, I chose this tree to sit against, the tree where Quinton and I had our moment in front of Vito. I still can’t believe that happened even now. It seems strange to have a fondness for the tree where something like that took place, but then not much about my relationship with Quinton makes sense on the surface.
Certain things can’t be put into words, things that can’t be reasoned. Emotion, intimacy.
Living in a fog for a week left me behind with my schoolwork. Everyone’s been understanding, something I’ve not quite gotten used to yet. I won’t take advantage of their kindness anymore. I need to pull myself together. Whatever happened to my parents has been done. It’s in the past. I can’t do anything to change it now. All I can do is change how I cope.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned how to do here at Corium, it’s cope. That, and Q, are the only reasons I’m still alive.
I lose track of how long I’ve been reading. It could be minutes, or it could be an hour. That’s the beauty of being absorbed in reading. Time melts away. Only when I hear footfalls outside the sunroom of someone approaching do I glance up, my face half-hidden by the hair hanging alongside it. I’m rarely disturbed here, which is the main reason I choose to visit.
It doesn’t make sense, the way my heart swells when I see him. He’s beautiful in the sunlight, his dark hair shining, his graceful movement bringing to mind a sleek cat. This is hardly the first time I’ve set eyes on Q, yet for some reason, he still has the effect of a jolt to my heart. Like somebody put a set of paddles against my chest to shock me.
It can’t be an accident, him coming here while I happen to be studying. Though he’s avoided me since I left his room, I’m never without the sense of him being nearby. I don’t know why that is. I only know it’s a comfort.
He wanders across the room rather than look my way, covering the large space with slow, easy strides. Just a guy enjoying the sunshine. Stopping in front of a tree at the other end of the room, he sits, his knees bent and his legs spread slightly. When he rests his head against the trunk, he closes his eyes. If I had the talent, I would paint him. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, with the sunbeams dancing off the planes of his cheek and forehead, highlighting his striking profile.
I can’t sit here and stare openly at him for fear of somebody coming in and seeing. It’s killing me not to be with him when all I want with every ounce is to run to him and throw myself into his arms. Now that I know the whole story and the stakes for all of us, it’s easier to resist the craving.
