Too Much To Hide || EDITING

c.40

      The fact that Mariam heard mine and Jessica's conversation yesterday and offered me the number of her obstetrician still makes me laugh. It baffles me to think about why they were had the most shocked faces on them when I told them I threw up yesterday morning. Doesn't everyone once in a while?

      Unfortunately for me, my stomach's demonic gurgling was what woke me up this morning. Fearing the worst, I ran to my bathroom and leaned over above the sink, waiting for the projectile vomit but nothing appeared. Except for a bit of spit, which I am more than willing to tolerate over my liquid digestion.

      That doesn't please my stomach so, as I get ready for my appointment, it just keeps shuffling around, poking at my insides and trying to disturb my guts. The feeling isn't at all pleasant while I'm attempting to get myself into a pair of jeans but by the time I button it up, it cries out for the last time and all pain dissolves from my abdomen. Thank God, I almost decided on calling a cab rather than taking my car.

      I haven't driven my blue Suzuki in so damn long—by that, I mean a month and a half. Its smooth wheels carry me along the town roads in comfort but it isn't as luxurious as a Ferrari or Lamborghini. Sighing, I forcefully push the memories out of my head and focus on the road in front of me.

      My appointment is scheduled for nine thirty and I arrived at precisely nine twenty two. Getting a parking slot, my car patiently sits in between a row of strangely white cars that look like they've had a tan. People really need to clean their cars more often. I hop into the elevator and ride up to the second floor to consult the receptionist. She says my appointment will begin soon and my name will be called so she offers a seat in the gorgeous teal lobby.

      As my eyes scan the gathered crowd, I notice it's mostly pregnant women here with their friends or husbands, chatting away merrily while holding their swollen stomachs. They've got on beautiful, simple summer dresses or t-shirts way too big for them but then again, the t-shirt is accommodating for two. A gentle smile widens on my face when I see one particularly young lady, one hand holding her boyfriend's and the other making circular motions on her unborn child. The miracle of life almost seems too good to be true.

      "Elizabeth James?"

      The call of my name snaps me out of my daydream as I look up to smile at the middle aged woman. She has her own warm grin etched on her young spirited face and has her wavy brown hair sitting on her shoulders, shielding her cheeks.

      She leads me down the corridor and into a beige office with the sun flooding in through the single window on the other end of the room. A green bed sits against the wall next to the window, with the curtains drawn open, and her desk houses her computer and file holders, along with a stethoscope hanging from the back of her chair.

      "Please, take a seat," she waves a hand to the cushioned chair in front of her desk and I take it gratefully while she sits opposite me, tenting her fingers and giving me her undivided attention.

      "I'm Doctor Parker, but if it's more comfortable, you can call me Anne." She extends a polite hand.

      "Thank you for meeting me, Doctor," I take it with my own, giving it a feminine shake.

      "Of course," she grins, "What's the issue?"

      My cheeks redden slowly. "I don't know if this is an issue or not but I've been getting these crazy stomach pains and yesterday morning, I hurled my guts out," I say with a light laugh. "Once my friends found out, they told me to go and get it checked. One of them recommended you actually,"

      "Stomach pains? What do they feel like?" She asks, going serious.

      "Um, I don't know how to describe it—kind of like those piercing kicks to the gut? And weird gurgling. Very weird gurgling."