All this feels strange and untrue
And I won't waste a minute without you
My bones ache, my skin feels cold
And I'm getting so tired and so old
The anger swells in my guts
And I won't feel these slices and cuts
I want so much to open your eyes
'Cause I need you to look into mine
Tell me that you'll open your eyes
- Snow Patrol.
____________________________________________
Shawn had never been to the free clinic before. Of course he'd known about it—people at college talked about the massive bags of condoms they gave out if you even suggested you might, possibly, in the near future, be considering having sex—but he'd never even thought to go. This place was for girls who wanted to get on the pill without their parents knowing, or guys who were too scared to buy their condoms at the store—like Alex. Shawn wasn't a sissy and he didn't want the cheap shit they gave away at the clinic anyway; he wanted the good stuff. He wanted the ones with less chance of breaking, so he never had to step one damn foot in this place.
So much for that now.
He sat in one of the most uncomfortable plastic chairs on the face of the earth, with his face buried behind a magazine about parenting or motherhood or some other shit he, as a teenage boy, had no desire to look at but pretended to in order to cover his face. God, was he ever thankful he'd at least worn the baseball cap. What kind of shit would he get if anyone saw him there? He'd never live it down.
Besides him and two other women seated several rows in front of him, the room was empty. At least they didn't look young enough to be girls from his college; that he could be thankful of. But that didn't meant they wouldn't know who he was if they got a good look. His face had been on the front of local sports more times than he could count, and he was often recognized in public. Usually he loved the notoriety, but not today. Not in this place.
Near the front of the room was a long, narrow "office area" cordoned off by a half-wall and Plexiglas. When he and Camila had come inside, they'd had to speak to the gray-haired woman, with glasses as thick as a bottle, through a slot made in the bottom of the glass. It took them three tries before she'd understood what they needed. At the very ends of that wall were some of those stupid looking magazine/brochure holders that were filled with pamphlets on birth control, pregnancy, STDs, teenage parenting, adoption, etcetra, etcetra. Shawn avoided those, like touching them would give him leprosy.
The nurse had come out and whisked Camila through a door off to the side before they'd even had a chance to think about sitting down. Shawn had just stood there for several seconds, staring at the door after it closed and wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. So, he'd avoided the eyes of the two women, and took a seat near the back of the room.
Shawn shifted uncomfortably in his seat and peered over the top of the magazine at the clock placed just above where the Plexiglas ended. According to it, Camila had been gone for a little over twenty minutes. His leg started to bounce and he wiped his damp palms against the leg of his shorts. What was taking so long? If there was something wrong, she'd come tell him, right? Shawn shook his head in an effort to stop himself from thinking that way and tried to concentrate on what he was reading, until he realized it was an article on the way intrauterine devices were inserted. He threw the magazine down in disgust and lowered his face to his hands. Shawn couldn't believe he was there. Not just there at the clinic but there in his life. He was always so careful, with everything: college, football, friends, dating, sex, everything. And the one time he wasn't. The one time—
"Shawn?"
He heard his name spoken softly from just a foot or so in front of him. Shawn looked up and met the gaze of a small Asian woman in a white lab coat. She wore her hair twisted tightly to the back of her head and a gentle smile on her face. The two things seemed to be at odds with one another: one severe and one kind. He blinked up at her for a few seconds before she spoke again.
"You're Shawn Mendes? The one who brought Camila in, right?"
He nodded, cleared his throat, and answered, "Yeah. Is she—where is she?"
"Hi, I'm Dr. Shelly." She held out her hand, and Shawn shook it tentatively. "Could you come with me, please?" She took a step back and held the same hand out toward the door through which Camila had disappeared earlier.
Shawn followed her gesture with his eyes. "Why? What's wrong?"
"I just thought maybe I could discuss a few things with you."
Why did she need to discuss anything with him? What the hell was going on? Dr. Shelly must have caught on to his panic, because she laid her hand on his arm and spoke quietly "It'll only be a few moments and then you can talk to Camila, okay?"
Shawn's eyes flitted to the door once more then back to the doctor. His legs felt wobbly and his stomach twisted in knots as he stood and followed her through the door and into a small office. She gestured for him to sit in one of the chairs situated in front of the desk, but he shook his head. He didn't want to sit; he just wanted to know what the hell was going on.
"Okay, that's fine if you don't want to sit." Dr. Shelly perched on the edge of her desk and clutched a clipboard to her chest. "While I can't discuss any of Camila's specific medical issues with you, because she has given me your name as the father of her baby, there were just a few things I wanted to discuss with you."
Shawn's stomach twisted tighter. The father of her baby ... God.
"First of all," she looked down at the clipboard and removed a couple of brochures, handing them to him, "we have a lot of excellent counselors and support groups for teenage parents through this clinic. Of course no one will make you go, but I highly recommend you at least think about talking to someone about this. It's not going to be easy for you or Camila to deal with all of the things that can and will happen as a result of this pregnancy."
Shawn looked down at the pamphlets and tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry.
"Camila has explained to me the ... details ... surrounding how she became pregnant. I assume because you were under the influence at the time, it somehow slipped your mind to use a condom and you do possess the knowledge of how to operate one?"
Heat coursed up Shawn's neck and pooled into his face. Holyshit. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good," Dr. Shelly said, and checked off something on the paper attached to the clipboard. What the hell was that? "Now, since you came with her, and stayed," her eyes rested on his, "can I assume you'd like to be involved?"
Shawn didn't know if "like" was the appropriate term to describe why he was there, more like he felt obligated. He didn't figure that would go over too well, so he just nodded.
"That's very good. It's very seldom the teenage father sticks around, but it can make all the difference for the mother, believe me."
Lord. He wished she'd stop saying things like "father" and "mother." He wasn't ready to hear those words in relation to him and Camila yet. There was a lot of time left to get used to it.
"Now, there's one more thing I'm going to do with Camila before she leaves today and—I've already discussed this with her and she has given her okay—if you'd like to come in, you may."
Shawn's head whipped up and he felt his eyes grow wide. There was no way he wanted to see anything that went on in one of those rooms. He'd heard stories. Very wrong, very sick stories.
Dr. Shelly chuckled. "Relax, it's nothing like that."
How the hell did she know what he was thinking?
"I'm going to do what they call an ultrasound. Do you know what that is?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, good." She nodded. "I can't guarantee we'll be able to see much of anything because I only have a functioning abdominal scan today—the machine I'd usually use for sonograms this early is out of commission at the moment. But I'm going to try, at least to make sure everything else is as it should be. I have my theories on what is causing Camila's pain, but there are things I need to check off the list first. An ultrasound can at least rule some things out. And there is a chance, because Camila is so thin, that we may be able to see the baby, even abdominally." She paused. "Is that something you'd like to be a part of?"
Shawn couldn't begin to comprehend what she was saying. It was too soon for this. He'd just found out Camila was pregnant a couple of weeks ago. They couldn't be having scans and looking at babies already, could they? "I don't know. What does Camila want?"
Dr. Shelly took a breath and stood up straight. "I don't know what Camila wants, but can I tell you what I do know?"
"Sure."
"I know that there's a very scared girl in there, a very alone girl. And maybe, just maybe if she knew that the father of her baby was in this thing with her, she could stop being so afraid. Teenage pregnancy isn't just hard because young people aren't equipped to be parents in the traditional sense. It's hard because their bodies aren't ready, their minds aren't ready, their spirits aren't ready. And a lot of the time, teenage mothers don't get and take the care they need, so complications arise. And do you know why they do that? Because they are scared and they are alone." She paused and placed her hand on his arm. "I'm not going to tell you what you should do, but you should know the facts. Camila is a strong girl, there's no question about that. But I think she could be even stronger with you."
Shawn looked down at the pamphlets once more, of the young boys on the covers holding babies. He took in their expressions and saw in every one of their faces what he felt inside: fear, guilt, shame. But he also saw resolution and forgiveness. For themselves. For what they'd done. When he looked up, Dr. Shelly's gaze was glued on his face. But there was no judgment there, no guilt trip. The things she'd said weren't to get him to do what she felt was right, they were to give him the chance to do it himself.
Straightening his posture to make himself appear more confident than he felt, he looked at her and said, "Okay."
____________________________________________
Camila could have sworn the room was colder than it had been the first time she'd been there. Even though she now wore her jeans and t-shirt instead of the crappy papery gown she'd donned the first time, she could still feel the coolness of the plastic table beneath her. Shifting her legs a little, the paper beneath her protested with a loud crinkle, and she cringed against the sound. Everything seemed magnified in the quiet: the whoosh of the furnace pushing air through the vents above her, the creak of the table when she nervously swung her legs. All of it combined to put Camila right on the edge of her nerves.
After going over everything with Dr. Shelly, answering every question she had about symptoms, family history, and etcetra, the doctor had asked her to lie back on the table and proceeded to press against her abdomen, pushing and prodding with surprising strength and asking if anything hurt. When nothing did, Dr. Shelly brought in a nurse, who withdrew what seemed like half of Camila's blood, then asked Camila to pee in a cup. Luckily, she hadn't made her get undressed, stating that since she'd already done an internal exam a few weeks ago, she wouldn't do another unless there was need. Camila silently thanked God for that. She totally wasn't up to anymore prodding of that nature anytime soon.
Dr. Shelly returned to the room shortly after the nurse had finished drawing what seemed like the fiftieth vial of blood and confirmed for Camila that she was, indeed, pregnant. Obviously.
"About seven weeks along, which matches up to your reported LMP."
"LMP?" she asked.
Dr. Shelly had been scribbling something onto Camila's chart and didn't bother to look up when she answered, "Last menstrual period."
Camila frowned. "But I didn't have sex until a couple of weeks after that."
"Yes, well, the date of the party—" she flipped back a couple of pages, "Friday, September sixteenth—came about fifteen days from the first day of your last period, which you reported as September first, correct?"
Camila nodded.
Dr. Shelly nodded in return. "It's often confusing to first-time mothers how pregnancy is calculated. Of course, you would not have actually conceived until the sixteenth—or possibly a day or two after if you had not yet ovulated, because semen can live inside you for up to three days."
Camila grimaced. She so did not want to think about sperm living inside her!
"But pregnancy is measured like one long cycle, just like your period, which always starts from the first day of your last period until the first day of your next. Only with pregnancy, it's measured from the first day of your LMP to when most babies are born—forty weeks later."
"Okay." Camila swallowed against the tightening in her throat. "Well, I already knew I was pregnant. I mean, I took the test and everything. But ... what's wrong with me? What are these pains from? Is something wrong?"
Dr. Shelly finally looked up from her clipboard. She set it down on her lap and reached over to take Camila's hand. Her fingers were cold and dry. "I have my theories, but before I say anything definitive, there's one more test I'd like to do."
"Okay," Camila said, her voice shaking. "What kind of test?"
"I'd like to do an ultrasound. Do you know what that is?"
Camila nodded. "You use a machine to take pictures of the baby."
"Yes. Pretty much. But I can also see your whole reproductive system: ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus. There are a few things I want to check to make sure I'm right about what's happening." She paused. "The thing is, normally with a pregnancy as early as yours, we'd do what's called a transvaginal ultrasound. It uses a special wand that's inserted inside you."
Camila stiffened and pressed her legs together. No way. NO WAY.
"But our machine went on the fritz the other day and is being repaired, so all I have is the regular abdominal scan. I may not be able to see everything I need to see with it since you are so early. But I'd like to try. I think we may have success because you are just about seven weeks and are quite thin already. But if I can't, I'll need you to come back next week for the transvaginal, all right?"
"Okay."
"Good. Now," Dr. Shelly reached into her coat and pulled out a bottle of water. "I'm going to need you to drink this."
"Why?" Camila took the bottle.
"An ultrasound works by sending sound waves through your body. It helps me to see more if your bladder is full."
"Oh." Camila twisted the cap to open the bottle. "Okay." She tipped the bottle to her lips and took several long chugs before Dr. Shelly spoke again.
"There's just one more thing."
Camila lowered the bottle. "Yeah?"
"I'd like to discuss the father."
Camila frowned and took another few sips. "What about him?"
"The boy who brought you in. The one in the waiting room. Is that him?"
Camila felt her face heat. "Yeah. Shawn Mendes."
Dr. Shelly smiled and patted Camila's knee. The gesture was strange and a little familiar for the situation, but it actually helped to make Camila feel a little more at ease. "How would you feel about letting him view the ultrasound as well?"
Camila choked on the water she'd just dumped into her mouth and soaked the front of her shirt. "What? Why?"
Dr. Shelly rose and grabbed a few paper towels, holding them out to Cacmila. "I think it would be good for him. For both of you."
Camila wiped the water from her chin and dabbed at the front of her shirt. "How so?"
"Well," the doctor sat back in her chair once more, "as women, pregnancy is usually real from the moment we see the plus sign on that test, and especially when we start having symptoms. But for men, they usually need some sort of physical sign that it's real. Normally this doesn't happen until the woman starts to show or sometimes not even until the baby is born. Every man is different." She paused. "But Shawn is young, practically still a boy. The idea of there actually being a baby inside you is going to be very hard for him to comprehend until he has proof. Physical proof. I think seeing that it's there will help him—and you—come to terms with and accept what is happening better."
Camila frowned. "But he seems fine—better than me, actually."
"Exactly," Dr. Shelly said. "It's easy to be calm when something is just an idea instead of a reality."
A niggle of discomfort twisted in Camila's gut. What if this was what would finally push Shawn away? To make him turn around and run out of her life forever. Something about that thought made her feel a panic she hadn't felt before. Sure, she'd always been afraid it would happen, that was why she'd refused to let him get close to her to begin with. But it had been about what she didn't know then, what she was afraid to know. Now it was more about what she wanted to know, needed to know, and was afraid to lose. But maybe it would be better if it happened now. Before he broke her down. Before he could really hurt her.
With a nod, she'd said, "Okay. He can come in."
Now, as she sat in the room alone, waiting, she wondered if she hadn't made a horrible mistake. Panic clenched in her chest and tingled over her skin. God, maybe she should have said no. Maybe he'd say no. Wait. What if he said no? The panic grew and crawled up her throat. Maybe this would be the start of it, the end.
Voices sounded from outside the door, one light, high, familiar, the other, lower, deeper. Camila drew in a breath and let it out slowly, her hands clenched together and her legs swinging lightly, banging against the table. The long handle on the door turned down and the snick of it unlatching made goosebumps form over Camila's arms. Dr. Shelly's white-clad arm came through first, then the rest of her, and then ... him.
Camila's breath caught, because he had come, because he hadn't said no, because he was there. It wasn't exactly surprise she felt, but more ... she had no idea.
Shawn stepped in behind Dr. Shelly and his eyes immediately found Camila's. She could tell by the lines surrounding them and the paleness of his skin that he was nervous. He'd removed his ball cap and held it in his hands in front of him. His hair was a complete disaster, curls in disarray and pointing in every direction in a way that did not look purposefully messy, but just messy. There was something beyond the obvious nervousness that made him look so young, so vulnerable standing there in the doorway of a room filled with posters of female parts and a model of a uterus.
His eyes left hers for a moment and darted around the room, growing larger as he took in the space. Camila bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from smiling. Dr. Shelly excused herself to retrieve the ultrasound machine, leaving Camila and Shawn alone in the room together. It wasn't as awkward as she'd feared it would be. In fact, it was actually sort of comforting having him there.
"Lord," he said, almost below his breath. "This place is almost as bad as I imagined it."
Camila snorted. "Do I even want to know what you imagined would be back here?"
Shawn shuddered noticeably. "No, probably not." He walked across the room to the desk and bent at the waist, peering at the model uterus with his lip curled. "Gross."
"Hey, come on now, that's not nearly as gross as the giant model penis." Heat raced up her neck and flooded into her cheeks. Did she just say penis in front of him?
Shawn twisted to look up at her. "A giant model what?"
"Nothing." Camila shook her head. OhGodohGodohGodohGod!
"No, no, no." Shawn straightened and turned to face her. "I'm pretty sure you said the words 'giant model penis.'"
"Nuh uh. No, I didn't."
Shawn raised a brow.
"Fine, I said it."
"Uh huh. And?"
"And what?"
"And where is this magical model penis?" Oh, God, now he said it! Shawn lifted his hands in question. "All I see are posters and disgusting plastic replicas of your ... your ..." He thrust his hand at her in reference. "You know."
"Uterus?"
"Yes." He snapped and pointed at her. "That."
Camila rolled her eyes. "Nice. You can't even say the word." At least she said penis.
"Yes, I can." Shawn crossed his arms over his chest.
"So say it then."
"Say what?"
"Uterus."
"I'll say it when you show me."
Camila narrowed her eyes, held up a finger, and hopped off the table. "You better not flake out on me."
"I won't." Shawn moved back in front of the door and eyed Camila suspiciously. "This better be massive if I'm saying that in return."
"And disgusting," she said, and reached out for the door on the cabinet. "Don't forget disgusting." Right away she spied the thing propped up against the side of the cabinet. Ew, gross. But hey, if he could say her parts were gross, then she could say his were too. She scrunched her nose and reached in, grasping the tip between her thumb and forefinger, handling it like it might bite her if she touched it any more. Taking a step back, she withdrew her arm and held the model out. "See?"
Shawn's brows rose, but he didn't move from his spot in front of the door. He just cocked his head to the side as he studied the model. "It's not that big."
Camila's mouth dropped open. "Oh, come on! This thing is huge!"
Shawn shrugged. "It's not that big," he repeated with a devious grin.
Camila looked at the thing dangling from her fingers, her mouth open to say something, when it dawned on her what he was implying. Her jaw dropped further, and she had the urge to throw the penis at him. "Ew. Oh, ew!"
He shook his head and laughed.
"That's ... that's ... We don't know each other well enough for you to say that!"
"I didn't say anything! I can't help how your mind interprets things."
"Oh, I didn't 'interpret' anything. I know exactly what that little smirk is implying."
"If we don't know each other well, how do you know what my facial expressions mean?"
Camila started to argue back, but realized he had her. He smiled wider. She narrowed her eyes and pointed at him with her free hand. "That was just wrong, Shawn Mendes. Wrong!"
He held his hands up in surrender. "If you really want to know what's wrong ..." He frowned. "Please tell me that's not how you hold a real one."
Camila glanced back at the way she was holding the model, and with a huff, tossed it back into the cabinet, closing the door behind it. Her face heated to at least a thousand degrees. "I don't know, Shawn, why don't you tell me?" And then when she realized what her big mouth had just spewed, her cheeks grew even hotter.
He didn't stop smiling. "If it would make you turn that red, I would if I could remember."
Ignoring what he'd said, lest her head explode at the implication, she walked back to the table and heaved herself back to her previous position. "Okay, I showed you, now say it."
"I don't know. I don't think that quite lived up to the massiveness you promised."
Camila leveled him with the evil eye.
"Fine." He chuckled and crossed the room to stand right in front of her. With that stupid grin still plastered on his face, he placed one hand to either side of her legs on the table, and leaned in. "Uterus."
Camila shook her head and tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back her own smile. "You're an ass. That didn't bother you at all to say, did it?"
"Nope. I'm confident enough in my masculinity to name female anatomy." Shawn reached up and absently brushed his finger over the corner of her mouth. "But it made you smile."
Camila's breath caught, and her first instinct was to jerk away, to move herself as far from his touch as possible, but somehow, she didn't. She sat there, staring at him as he stared at her. But Shawn must have noticed her stiffened posture, because he slowly lowered his hand to her side once more, and Camila felt his wrists brush the outside of her thighs.
"Sorry," he murmured.
He was always saying he was sorry, and Camila knew it was her fault. Her fault for being so cautions and so standoffish. Why did he even want to know her? She wasn't giving him any reason to, in fact, she'd been doing everything she could to push him away. Yet, he stayed. Why? Why would he?
Without thinking, she blurted, "Why are you here?" Heat flooded her cheeks when she realized how that sounded.
Shawn blinked in surprise. "Because the doctor said—I can go if you want."
He pulled back, but Camila grasped him by the forearm. "No," she glanced down at where she touched him, "that's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
"I meant," Camila swallowed, "why do you keep trying—with me. I've given you so many chances to walk away from this. I expected you to walk away. But you haven't. You keep coming back. No matter how crappy I am to you. Why ... ?"
"Why wouldn't I?" he said, his voice tight and his gaze on her hand. "This is my responsibility. My ... my kid. I can't just pretend it's not. That's not fair." He looked up, and when he did, Camila saw something in his eyes, something old and haunting, something knowing, something sad. "Every kid deserves to be claimed, no matter if they were made by two people in love and making a conscious effort, or by two stupid, drunk teenagers against Alex Ludwig's bathroom door." Shawn paused and drew in a breath, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to say more. Camila's heart pounded against her ribs. "And ..."
Shawn flipped his arm in her grasp, until he cupped hers instead. His hand moved down, brushing over her skin, his hot palm burning her flesh and causing her hairs to stand on end. Camila bit her lip and tried to control her reaction. She was not going to shiver. She was not. Before Shawn had a chance to finish his sentence a throat cleared behind him.
Shawn turned toward the sound, dropping Camila's arm at the same time. Dr. Shelly stood in the doorway, with a large cart with some type of monitor on top.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Do you two need another minute?"
"No," Camila said, though she really wanted to say yes. What was Shawn about to say? And what was that look in his eyes. What did it mean?
Shawn shook his head and moved around the table to stand at Camila's side. Dr. Shelly nodded and came the rest of the way in, the cart making a loud squealing sound as she rolled it in. How had neither of them heard it before? Camila knew how she hadn't. She'd been too absorbed in Shawn, in the words he was saying and the one's he was not, in the way he was looking at her, and the way his touch lit her up. The doctor pulled the machine beside the table on which Camila sat, and Camila noticed that just below the monitor was a rounded table with keyboard and a bunch of dials on it. To the side were several strange wand-looking objects with cords stretching down to the same number of box-like compartments underneath. Camila's stomach twisted with nervousness.
"Okay, Camila, I'm going to need you to lie back," Dr. Shelly said as she pressed a switch that brought the monitor on top of the cart to life, and then fiddled with several dials on the front.
Camila did as she was told, the paper crinkling with every move she made. The doctor grabbed her rolling stool and placed it in front of the machine, before coming to stand next to the table. She glanced down at Camila and gave her a reassuring smile.
"I know it looks intimidating, but it's basically just a big camera. It won't hurt at all. The gel may just be a little cold at first and I will need to apply some pressure to get the best picture possible."
Camila nodded and swallowed hard against the fear in her throat. Shawn stood stiff and unsure beside her.
Dr. Shelly pointed to a chair on the opposite wall. "You can sit if you'd like," she said to him.
Camila looked up at him, and he just shook his head, his eyes wide and face pale. He looked just as scared as her. She had the fleeting urge to hold his hand, but she squashed that thought and turned back to the doctor.
"Okay then," the doctor said, much too cheerily for Camila's taste, "let's get started."
She grabbed a blue napkin-looking thing and tucked it into the top of Camila's pants, pulling them down until they rested way under her pelvic bone. Camila felt her face heat at how much of her "area" seemed to be exposed. Dr. Shelly then pushed Camila's shirt up to rest just under her bra, leaving her entire abdomen on display. Camila heard Shawn draw in a sharp breath and shift on his feet.
"I apologize for the chill, but the warmer is broken." The doctor grabbed a bottle from next to the wand-things and brought it up over Camila's stomach. She squeezed and with a disgusting squirting sound, a large amount of freezing goop dropped onto her skin. Camila gasped and jumped a little, and Dr. Shelly chuckled. "Yeah, that's the worst of it. Now for the fun part."
Camila couldn't imagine any of this experience to be fun. She was laid out on a hard, plastic table with uncomfortably scratchy paper stuck to her back, half her body on display, and some nasty cold crap piled on her stomach. She felt stiff and awkward, the bottom half of her back arched and starting to ache. Her fingers wrapped around the sides of the table, digging into the plastic as if she were holding on for her life.
Dr. Shelly grabbed one of the wand-things—which looked surprisingly like a handheld scanners used at the store, except the front was rounded and smooth—and touched it to Camila's lower stomach, swirling the freezing goo all over. The screen on the monitor filled with a bunch of gray and white blobs that had no discernible shape and resembled static on an old television set. The doctor twisted the wand, pressing into Camila's abdomen kind of hard. She tried not to grimace, but failed. All of them were silent for several moments, before Dr. Shelly pointed to the left side of the screen.
"This is your left ovary."
Camila saw nothing but gray. Gray, gray, and more gray.
"And this," the doctor drew her finger down a slightly darker line, "is your fallopian tube."
The doctor moved the wand across Camila's stomach and pressed in again just as she had before, pointing out another gray blob and another darker line which she also called a "tube."
"Both tubes are clear, which is very good. It rules out one of the more dangerous reasons for your pain." She moved the wand down, way down to just above where she'd pulled Camila's pants to. The doctor traced her finger along some more blobs on the screen. "This is the top of the uterus." She fiddled a bit longer and stopped, freezing the screen. "Do you see this?" The doctor pointed to a black circle nestled amongst a sea of gray.
"Um, I guess?" Camila said. Shawn said nothing, but Camila could hear his shallow breaths.
"This is the gestational sac." She traced her finger around the small black circle. "It's in a fairly good position, if not a little low, in the uterus. And this," she pointed to a small, white, rice-sized spot inside the circle, "is what we call the fetal pole."
Camila had no idea what any of that meant, whether it was good or bad, but she felt too stupid to ask. Dr. Shelly maneuvered the wand a bit more, then stopped, her brows pulling together in concentration.
"What?" Camila asked, suddenly feeling nervous about the answer. "What's wrong?" She felt Shawn stiffen beside her.
The doctor shook her head slowly. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Do you see that flickering?" She touched the screen, near the white spot inside the black circle.
Camila squinted but couldn't see anything but blobs of black, gray and white. "No ..."
"I see it," Shawn finally spoke, his voice very quiet.
Shawn narrowed her eyes more and then finally, she saw it, a very fast fluttering on the rice-sized line of white. "Oh! Yes, yes, I see it too."
"That," Dr. Shelly smiled, "is your baby's heartbeat."
____________________________________________
A heartbeat.
A God-damned heartbeat.
It hadn't been long enough for that, had it? Shawn tried to catch his breath, but ever since he'd seen that flicker, he'd felt as if someone was squeezing his lungs with their bare hands. Dr. Shelly finished up quickly after that declaration, and was now discussing things Shawn did not understand, and honestly could not even really hear over the pounding of his own heart. Something about muscles and ligaments and stretching and dehydration. He had no God-damned idea, but—hell, was the room getting smaller?
"Shawn?"
He blinked at the sound of his name and looked up to find both Dr. Shelly and Camila staring at him.
"Are you all right?" the doctor asked.
Shawn swallowed. "Uh," his entire body flushed with heat and he felt the sudden urge to run out of there, "no—yeah, um, is it hot in here?"
Camila's brows rose almost to her hairline. "No. I actually thought it was pretty cold."
"Oh," he said, and frowned. "You sure?" Sweat beaded along his forehead. "Because I'm really hot."
Dr. Shelly stood, a knowing look on her face. Shawn didn't like that look. At all. She took him by the shoulders and steered him toward the door. "I think maybe some air will do you good," she said, and opened the door. A nurse was walking by, and Dr. Shelly addressed her, "Eva, could you get Shawn some water and help him outside?"
Help? He didn't need help, he could walk.
"Wait," he said, catching Camila's concerned look, as Dr. Shelly ushered him into the hands of the nurse.
"It's all right," the doctor said. "We're just about done. Camila will meet you outside in a few minutes." She smiled leaned in, and whispered, "You did very well. Better than most in your situation. Just take a breath. It'll be fine."
Shawn looked down, confused, as she patted his arm, promising again that it would only be a moment before Camila was finished. The door closed in his face and the nurse led him out into the lobby, thrust a cold bottle in his hand, and the next thing he knew, he was standing out on the sidewalk. The cool breeze coming off the river across the street blew over his face, immediately cooling the fire raging through his veins.
He stared at the water, watching as the current rippled the surface, and tried to make sense out of what just happened. But he couldn't. His brain just couldn't wrap itself around the fact that it had a heartbeat. Logically, he knew babies had heartbeats and he knew Camila was pregnant. He hadn't doubted her. Not once. But it had never felt so ... real. So inevitable.
It had a God-damned heartbeat. He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. A hand pressed against the center of his back and he turned to look at who was touching him. The nurse was still there, watching him with worried eyes.
"I'm fine," he said. "I'm fine."
He still felt the overwhelming squeezing in his chest, and his heart beat rapidly against his sternum. But he could breathe again.
"Really," he reassured her when her look remained skeptical. Shawn glanced back over at the river. "Can you just tell my, er, Camila, that I'm over there?" He nodded to the fountain sitting just across the way.
The nurse didn't look like she wanted to let him out of her sight, and kept insisting he sit down and drink the bottle of water. Frustrated, he twisted the cap off the bottle and chugged half of it right then and there.
"There. Happy now?" he asked, irritated.
When she didn't answer, he finished off the bottle and chucked it in the trashcan nearby, before stalking across the street, ignoring her protests. The large stone fountain rose up in front of him, no cupid or any other type of chubby, naked baby this time, but just a standard, three tier fountain. He circled it until he was on the side facing the river. It was calm today, not many people walking along the water, but there were several boats floating in the current. Shawn sat down on the ground and leaned his back against the stone, resting his head against the fountain base. It was hard and cold, but it helped him keep his thoughts straight.
He'd been so stupid, treating this whole thing like it was nothing. But it wasn't nothing. There was a tiny person inside Camila. A tiny person with a tiny heart that beat. A tiny person that he put there. Shawn lifted a hand to his hair, his shaking fingers pulling at the strands before he dropped them to his lap.
What the hell was he supposed to do now? The weight of this new reality pressed down on him like he was buried under a hundred feet of dirt. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through it, to try to calm his racing mind. But nothing seemed to help. There was so much fear and doubt and disbelief raging through him. How was he supposed to do this? To be someone's father? What were people going to say? What was his father going to say? Over and over and over the questions bombarded his mind, relentless and unforgiving, and only serving to make him question everything more.
Shawn didn't know how long he sat there, his mind reeling, and his eyes closed, before he heard the crinkle of paper and felt the air shift as someone sat beside him.
"Here," Camila said, and Shawn opened his eyes to see a small, purple lollipop in front of him. "Dr. Shelly says it helps."
Shawn wrapped his fingers around the little stick and withdrew the candy from her hand. "Help with what?"
"So you don't pass out."
Shawn rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to pass out."
Camila shrugged and unwrapped her own candy. "It's okay if you do. I won't tell anyone."
"I'm not going to pass out," Shawn repeated, and gave her a sidelong glance. "And, yes, you would."
A small grin pulled at her lips. "Maybe one day when we're old and gray and telling stories about 'back in the day.'"
Shawn laughed and glanced back at the river. A flock of birds flew overhead, dipping down every so often to catch bugs or small fish from the surface of the water. He let out a slow breath.
"It's okay if you're scared," Camila said, quietly. "I am."
"I know." But it wasn't okay. His whole life he was taught to be strong, to be a man. Being afraid was not manly. How was he going to be a father if he couldn't even handle seeing a damn picture of a beating heart?
For several minutes, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the rustle of the remaining leaves in the trees nearby, the chirping of the birds fighting over their next meal, and the occasional car passing by on the street behind them. Usually, silence unnerved him, but somehow, being silent with Camila calmed Shawn. He knew she felt the same fears he did—probably even more—and with her he didn't feel like such an ass for feeling that way.
"Shawn?" Camila spoke a few minutes later, her words hesitant. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah," he said.
"When you were telling me why you kept trying with me ... you said every child deserved to be claimed. But ... when you said it ... you seemed like, I don't know, like maybe you'd experienced something like that. Did you know someone like that or something?"
"Yeah." Shawn closed his eyes. "Me."
"You—what?"
Shawn opened his eyes and lowered his gaze to his hands. He'd never really told anyone his story—not even Alex—but he figured, if anyone should know, it should be her. "Roy Mendes isn't my biological father." Shawn heard Camila's intake of breath, but he didn't look at her. If he did, he may not get the story out. Even though he knew it wasn't really his fault, he still felt shame. "My mom was married before, to her high school boyfriend. They'd been together forever, and as soon as they graduated, they got married. They had all these dreams and plans about traveling the world and all kinds of other shit. None of those plans included a kid. In fact, Ben—that's his name, Benedict Rayes—said he never wanted kids at all. So, when mom found out she was pregnant, he gave her an ultimatum: get rid of it or their marriage was over." Shawn held his hand out, palm up. "You can see which she chose." He picked up a pebble, rolled it between his fingers, then tossed it out to the river. "Mom met and married Roy when I was two. He adopted me and he's been the only father I've ever known. He's not my blood, but he's my dad." He finally looked at her. "Still, it doesn't change the fact that my real father walked away. That he pretends I don't even exist. I don't want to do that to my kid. I wouldn't do that."
Camila was quiet for a few moments, and Shawn started to doubt his decision to tell her. And then she said, "My Mama's not around, either. She and my Papa aren't really getting along, so she stays in the city with ... with her friend." The way she said the word friend made Shawn think this friend, wasn't so much of a "friend" but something more. "I think they're probably going to get a divorce." She brushed her hair out of her face, and tried to make it seem like she didn't care, but Shawn could see by the way creases formed around her eyes and mouth, that she cared more than she wanted to say.
"That sucks," he said.
"Yeah, well," she said. "Maybe it's better than hearing them fight all the time. I don't know."
"I don't know either."
Camila let out a breath and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the rock basin. "It's going to be all right, isn't it? All of this?"
Shawn leaned his head back, too, and looked up at the sky. "I don't know that either."
A few gulls screeched from several feet away, and Shawn turned to look at them, but instead found Camila staring at him.
"What else were you going to say?" she asked. "Earlier, when Dr. Shelly came into the room. After I asked you why you kept trying with me and you told me about every child deserving to be claimed. After that you said 'and', like there was more. What were you going to say?"
Shawn thought back to that moment, as he'd looked into her eyes in that office and saw just a little bit of vulnerability peeking through. Weakness that he'd never seen her show before. "I was going to say, that even though there's so much shit between us with how we met and how this all happened, how our fathers hate each other, and are probably going to kill both of us when they find out, and how even though you keep pushing me away, I still feel this ... this thing between us. And I keep thinking that that maybe if I just wait, if I just hold on while you decide whether or not you can trust me, that someday you will. And when that day comes, all of the waiting will be worth it. You'll be worth it."
He expected her to withdraw, to stand and walk away, or to tell him that this was too much, that friends don't say things like that to friends. But she didn't. She continued to stare at him, her eyes moving from one of his to the other, testing them for truth. But he was being honest; probably the most honest he'd ever been with a girl before—hell, with anyone. There was no way she could see anything but that, because there was nothing else. There was just him.
After a moment, she closed her eyes. Shit, he'd lost her. He should have shut his God-damned mouth. But then ... Something warm and soft slid down his arm and over his hand, pushing down into his palm and intertwining with his fingers. Shawn glanced down to find her arm crossed over his and their hands joined together, his larger one engulfing hers. When he looked back up, her eyes were open once more, studying him as if this was the first time she'd ever seen him.
"You know what, Shawn Mendes?"
"What?" he asked.
With a tiny smile, she said, "I think you might be worth it too."
____________________________________________
Author's note:
The slow burn is heating up! Shawn actually in his thoughts what Dr. Shelly "diagonosed" Camila's pain as ... So, if you still aren't sure, go back to the last section. I'm going to make you work for it this time! :)
xoxo
Bloomsbelle