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Prologue
Tynleigh
The door opens and closes with the sound of her heels tapping against the floor. "I wasn't expecting to see you this soon."
Her white coat flashes in my peripheral vision as she passes by me and takes a seat on the rolling stool at the small built-in desk that houses a desktop monitor. The same one I've stared at this entire time waiting for her to enter, my nerves on edge, my eyes focused on the dark constellation in front of me. Today could be the best day of my life or the worst depending on the words that come out of her mouth. Her long, dark hair and soft features break my stare-off with the screen when she rolls toward me, holding her last dictation from a previous visit in the red folder on her lap.
She's a beautiful woman. Young, at least to me, Asian-American with gorgeous long locks of shiny black hair and the most beautiful skin. Her bedside manner is the icing on the cake. She may have a full workload of patients, but you'd never know it. She always seems to have all the time in the world. But one thing I fell in love with is that as golden as her heart is, she holds nothing back. I've been seeing her since I moved here, compliments of Meg. "Neither was I," I say blankly. "How bad is it?"
"It's positive."
Two words that will forever change my life. One phrase that will be my ruin. A consequence that I can't escape. And a truth that will break me. Then I feel it—every ounce of strength within me crumbles, and I do something I haven't done in years.
I cry.
Before I know it a few tears turn into an all-out ugly cry here in this exam room, in front of a woman that sees me once a year. She's barely more than a stranger. But I'm devastated. I'm at a loss for what to do for the first time in my entire life. I will never be able to reverse this. That thought consumes my entire mind, body, and soul. In effect my shoulders fall, my hands cover my face, and I wail, not caring how I look or what she thinks of me at this very moment.
Then I feel her arm wrap around my back and she pulls me into a side embrace. "You have options, you know."
"And what? Be judged harshly when people find out? Look at me. I'm a single woman with an amazing career that most would kill for. I have a life I'm happy with. A body I'm proud of. I'm not prepared for this shit. I'm not a lonely female looking for a fix. I never wanted this! I fucked up. I got caught up in one amazing week with a man that made me feel things while my brother was here with his wife. He was just a distraction, and now I'm stuck with the consequences. He gave me this and left. I don't need a daily reminder of him. This is a permanent fixture that I can't handle. A girl can't have a normal life with this thing weighing her down. How do I go out, mingle, have fun, and meet new people in this situation I'm stuck with? My sex life is ruined."
The tears haven't stopped or even let up since they started. "There are worse things, Tynleigh. I see it in my patients daily. This isn't the end of your life. Think of it as a speed bump. You'll get over it. It just makes you slow down for a moment."
"Maybe to some people. To me it's a disaster."
"No one has to know what you decide to do but you. Whether you include him in this or not is a moral decision on your part. No law says you have to. If you want to deal with it and be done you can, and I'll be with you every step of the way."
She walks back to her desktop and grabs several pamphlets from a few of the wooden cubbies hanging on the wall above it. Then she hands them to me. "Here. I want you to take these home and read over them. Give yourself through the weekend to decide which way you want to go with this."
She begins writing on the front sheet of my chart, circling random options as she goes down. "Take this to the front. I want to see you back on Monday. There are things that need to be done no matter what you choose, but when you come in we'll go over the course of treatment."
I take the sheet of paper from her, reading the options as she leads me to the door. She grabs the handle, but hesitates before opening it. "It's okay to talk to someone. Sometimes if we have another perspective from a person we trust during a time that we're not emotionally stable, it can help us make the right choice, so don't feel like you have to carry this on your own."
"I'll consider it," I respond, and she opens the door. I all but run to get out of here. I feel like I can't breathe. My chest is heavy and my mind is overloaded. As I walk back into the lobby, I refuse to look around me. Instead, I use tunnel vision to get to the checkout counter, handing the receptionist the paper. She studies it, tapping away at the keys on her computer.
"Will 9AM on Monday work Miss Cambridge?"
"Sure. Can I go?"
She gives me a pleasant smile as if this is a good thing. If only she knew. "I've got you scheduled."
I rush to the stairs, not even bothering with the elevator. Elevators are slow and require me to be in close range with someone that could potentially contaminate my thoughts. This place even smells contagious. I wipe at my eyes again, trying to ensure I don't have any tears lingering until I can get home. The girl that never requested off is suddenly becoming what feels like the most undependable employee there is.
And suddenly I feel alone—more alone than I've ever felt being on my own. Talk to someone? Who the fuck am I supposed to talk to? This is something I'm not ready to go to Meg with yet, if ever. Then it occurs to me that there is only one person I would ever talk to about anything this private, this upsetting. The only person that would never judge me. He's the only person that's ever truly been my best friend.
I pull out my phone and bring up my favorites menu, initiating a call to the person at the top of the list. It doesn't take more than a few rings before he picks up, and just as I hit the parking lot the tears start all over again. He clears his throat. "T, it's early. You okay?"
"No," I cry. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I didn't know who else to call."
"Hold on. Let me walk outside."
A few seconds later the door opens and closes. His voice is no longer a whisper. "What's wrong?"
The wails start all over again the second I'm safely in my car. "Please don't tell Bryant. I fucked up, Sprout. I really fucked up this time, and I don't know what to do."
"T, you're freaking me the fuck out. Just start from the beginning."
Start from the beginning. Maybe that I can actually do.
