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“I’m okay,” I assured him, but I wasn’t. My legs could barely hold me, and I felt horribly nauseous. My throat itched too, like I had swallowed something awful.
“I... I need to go to the bathroom.” I coughed.
With a last surge of energy, I let go of the railing and ran into the house. I made it just in time to the toilet before I vomited, then I lifted my head and bent down to do it again. After that, I just sat on the floor and stared at the wall.
Andrei came into the bathroom a few seconds later, a worried look on his face. He picked up the towel from the hook on the wall and knelt on the floor beside me. “We should see a doctor,” he told me.
I got up, walked to the basin, and washed my face. Then I took the towel from him and cleaned my face. “I am okay. Just tired.”
“No, we need to see a doctor right now. It could be food poisoning.”
His voice was stern, and I could tell there was no arguing with him. So, I nodded and made my peace with it.
We sat in the hall of the hospital and waited for the result of the tests. The doctor had requested all kinds of samples: blood, urine, and a physical exam. Finally, the doctor, a small man whose glasses magnified his watery eyes, came out of the room and waved us into his office. Andrei had barely closed the door behind him when the doctor handed him the test results, as if he was the one who was ill.
“Congratulations,” the doctor said. “Your wife is pregnant.” Andrei's eyes widened at the paperwork. And he wasn't the only one who was in utter shock. I craned my neck, trying to see what was on the paper, and my hands shook as I reached for it.
I’m fucking pregnant? But that’s impossible! Marcello tried for years to get me pregnant, and I can’t count the times he yelled at me or hit me for failing him.
As if someone had just punched him in the face, Andrei handed the paper to me and watched as I read it.
There it was. Cleary written with my name on it! I was six weeks pregnant! My hands shook as I read the results over and over again—even the things I should have ignored, like the doctor's signature and the date at the top of the paper.
“Is t-this... A-are you sure?” I stuttered.
He looked at me and nodded. “Yes.” He smiled. “Blood results don’t lie. Haven’t you noticed that you were late on your period?”
I shook my head. “I was never regular.” I looked at the stunned Andrei as if that was proof that all of this was a huge misunderstanding.
“Well, congratulation anyways,” the doctor said. “You and the child are okay. All that dizziness and nausea is normal. It will get better. I will recommend a few things. You and your husband should sit down.”
I glanced at Andrei's face, and he stared back at me. The look of worry hadn’t left his face since we left the house this morning.
Andrei placed his hand on my lower back as we walked to the chairs in the doctor’s office. As soon as we sat, the man gave instructions on vitamins and recommended a prenatal appointment at a different hospital. I heard every word he said, but it still seemed as if none of it was real.
Andrei took the note he handed him, and then we both headed to the car—in total silence.
The Ford Maverick truck was parked outside under a tree near the exit. Andrei had bought the truck the day after we bought the house. I sat in the front seat and watched as he walked to the driver's seat and started the engine.
He was quiet, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the side of the door. He wouldn't look at me and wasn't saying anything about the ‘happy’ news. I swallowed hard and put my hands on my lap, nerves tying my stomach into knots.
“Should we talk about this?” I mumbled.
He nodded his head toward me. “Yes.”
“What... do you think?”
“What doIthink?”
He frowned and started driving. “I thought you couldn’t get pregnant.”
“I did as well. Marcello and I had tried for years without success. He never wanted to go to any specialists, and knowing now thathewas the problem, it makes sense. He wanted to blame me, not face reality. And stupid as I was, I believed him.”
Andrei didn’t answer that but drove in silence.
“Do you want me to have an abo—”
“No!” he cut me off before I could finish the sentence. “I have never hurt a woman or a child, and I would rather die before I start with my own. We’ll do what the doctor told us to do. I am just... figuring it out, that’s all.”
