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* * *
The Family Planning Clinic was discreet enough, but I opted to disguise myself with a short brown wig and dark sunglasses. I managed to make it past our promoters, fans, and other performers without being noticed, so I was fairly confident I wouldn’t be recognised.
I was the first appointment of the day, so there weren’t many people in the waiting room. I sat down and habitually picked up a trashy magazine to flick through the pages. It wasn’t long before I discovered photos and an article about my drinking problem. I snorted to myself, wishing for once it were true.
Turning the pages, my hand froze on an image that caused my heart to ache. It was an exquisite black and white photograph of a mother and father embracing their newborn. I didn’t read the article, just gazed at the image that threatened to haunt me forever.
The mother was not much older than me, the dad beamed proudly, and the baby slept peacefully in their arms. I was fascinated by the baby’s facial features and how similar they were to his father. I ran my finger over the baby’s face and began to imagine what my baby could look like. Luke’s face flashed in my mind. The way he smiled, the way he laughed, all the emotions that made something stir inside me. I saw the tears fall onto the magazine pages before I registered they were coming from me. Flashbacks of Luke doting on Amelie consumed my mind and I was on the verge of a panic attack.
I heard a name being called, but remained fixated on the photo.
“Miss Lake,” the nurse repeated.
I glanced up and realised she was calling for me. I had used a false name when I initially booked the appointment, because I couldn’t risk my procedure being leaked to the press.
I quickly shut the magazine, wiped my face dry and stood up. I followed the nurse down a long hallway and into another room. She closed the door behind me and asked me to take a seat. I cautiously took off my sunglasses, and immediate recognition flickered across her expression.
The nurse fumbled through her notes, discreetly checking my name, and proceeded to explain the procedure to me in a professional manner. I barely heard a word she said over the erratic thoughts that cluttered and confused my mind.
Staring at the consent form she placed in front of me, I unconsciously picked up the pen, but hesitated before signing. The pen hovered over the signature line, as my heart beat rapidly. I made several attempts to sign but something deep inside stopped me each time. I couldn’t do it. I placed the pen down beside the consent form and sighed.
The nurse offered me a look of understanding. “It happens all the time.”
“Really?”
She smiled as she gathered up the wasted paperwork. “Everyday. Sometimes you don’t realise what you want until it’s staring at you in the face.”
I nodded back my tears.
“You don’t have to worry, this is all strictly confidential.”
“Thank you.”
“Take your time. I don’t have another appointment until ten,” she said, and left the room to give me some privacy.
A sense of calm washed over me as I stepped outside the clinic. I pulled off my wig and threw it away before hailing down a taxi. I rode back to my tour bus, feeling like I had finally made the right decision.
* * *
Unsure of my next move, I continued with the tour. No one needed to know my secret, not yet anyway. It would be months before I started to show and with the right adjustments to my wardrobe, I could possibly get through the rest of the tour without detection.
Unfortunately, my body didn’t co-operate. Just when I thought the morning sickness was fading, it came back even worse. Not wanting it to get the better of me, I pushed on. Many women have battled through it and I would too. I sipped water, ate crackers, and sucked up all the aches and pains I suffered, as my body adjusted to the new addition.
It wasn’t until I had an episode on stage, that my facade came crashing down. I was half way through a set and mid-song, when everything started to spin. I stopped singing and heard disappointed murmurs in the crowd, but my body wouldn’t respond. I tried to focus, and every sound became stretched and unrecognisable. Then everything turned to black.
I woke up some time later back in the bus, accompanied by the tour doctor and Stefan.
“Welcome back,” the doctor greeted, sitting by my bedside.
My mind automatically conjured up my last memory and it filled me with dread. I had fainted, onstage, in front of everyone.
I cringed. “Oh, no....I didn’t? Please tell me I didn’t pass out on stage?” I tried to rise.
“You certainly did. Perhaps you should consider taking it a bit easier?” the doctor ordered in the guise of a suggestion.
I glanced over to find Stefan pacing up and down the bus.
“What’s going on, Natalie?!” he demanded irritably and the doctor excused himself. “I’ve got promoters and press on my back, and I don’t know what to tell them anymore.”
