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All the men I’ve had fucking me. All the things I’ve done…
“Are you ok?” Gerwyn asks, and a tiny excuse for a laugh comes out of my mouth.
“Not really, no.”
He looks at me, and even now, his smile is so warm. A tiny bit of humour there along with mine.
“No, I imagine you’ve had better days.”
There’s a car park by the clinic, and Gerwyn helps me out of the car as soon as we’ve pulled up. I feel shaky, but I can walk. I take a second to calm myself down at the entrance and then I step inside. I’m so relieved that Gerwyn is with me. I take his hand and give it a squeeze, looking up at him through watery eyes.
“Thanks for being here.”
“No need for thanks, Cass. This is what friends are for.”
The woman at the reception desk is lovely. She sees my tears the second I try to speak, and calls a colleague to help me through to a separate room. I leave Gerwyn in the reception area, and the look in his eyes fills me with another round of tears.
His smile is so real, filled with love and respect.
“I’ll be waiting,” he tells me.
The consultant is great, not rushing me in the slightest as I talk her through what’s happened. She nods, and gives me support, and lays out what they are going to offer me. A blood test, and vaginal swab. An internal examination, and I’ll need to provide a urine sample.
How I wish Gerwyn was with me, and the nurse must pick up on that as I look at the door.
“Would you like your friend in here with you?”
I don’t want to put any more pressure on him, so I shake my head.
“No, thanks. I’ll be ok.”
“Let’s get to work,” she says, and gives me a lovely smile.
They take my blood first, and give me an examination, taking a swab, and it must look like a total mess down there, having taken so many men, so quickly. I’m on autopilot every step of the way, numb to everything and hurting like hell at the same time. Then the nurse directs me to the bathroom for a urine sample.
“One more question,” she asks me. “Do you think you could be pregnant?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m on the pill.”
“But you’ve been sick, and drinking a lot, yes? When was the last time you had your period?”
“I’m due about now,” I say, my pill-taking regime at the moment nothing more than a blur.
“How much have you been drinking and vomiting?” she questions.
“A lot.”
“Ok,” she says. “Maybe we should do a test to be certain.”
I nod. “Sure.”
She hands me a pregnancy test on my way in.
“Just to be certain,” she tells me again, but I have a terrible fear in me.
So many nights of drinking and being sick. So many mornings spent retching.
So many men inside me.
The thought gives me shivers.
Just a precaution, I tell myself. Nothing more.
I feel weird regardless as I watch the space for the line to appear on the test, being silly because, no. It won’t. It won’t.
But of course. Fate isn’t finished yet.
Some of my life is still there to be shattered into raw pieces, so I should’ve known what the result would be. Fate is crumbling my world, along with my own foul choices. I hold back a whole rack of a sobs as the line appears, shaking my head, alone.
The nurse must hear me sobbing. She taps on the door and comes in. My face must say it all.
“I’ll get another test, to be sure,” she says.
She’s with me when I do the second. She’s the one who holds the test, because I’m too messed up to hold it straight myself.
She looks so sorry when she gives me the news.
“I’m sorry, Cassandra. It’s positive. You’re pregnant.”
I’ve never hated myself so much in my life. Stupidity. Ignoring the obvious. Irresponsibility in my meds routine. Irresponsibility in everything I’ve chosen to do.
I’ve also never hated anyone as much as I hate Anthony Bradstone.
Sobs turn to wails, and I’m rocking on the toilet as the nurse tries to soothe me. But that’s not enough.
“Shall I get your friend?” she asks, and this time I nod.
She’s straight off to get Gerwyn.
I’m rocking with my face in my hands when I hear the door open back up again. I can’t look at him as he crouches beside me, just fall into his arms as he offers them, not giving a shit for the fact my panties are still around my thighs and I must look more of a mess than ever.
I can’t speak, and he doesn’t try to make me. He holds me in silence, in the strongest arms I’ve ever known, letting me soak his shirt with tears as I try to get to my senses.
