"What's so bad about talking to him? He's your best friend."
I sat at the edge of my bed, green with a sickness I haven't felt before, not even in the relentless pain and discomfort my stomach was putting me through. All while Harry reassured me, coddled me into preparedness to speak with Charlie, who had arrived a few minutes ago.
My mind was elsewhere however, feeling the nausea trickling up my throat, watery salivating glands in my mouth perpetuating the urge to vomit all the contents in my stomach. Blinking slowly, I turn to look up at Harry, standing a few feet from me now, silent, observing my own silence.
"You okay?"
"I need to throw up," I gag.
He reacts effortlessly, swinging the trash bin with the plastic bag placed inside over to me. I bend to eject the contents out of my stomach, feeling instant relief. Moaning in distress, I feel him sit beside me, the bed dipping with his weight. He placed an arm around my waist, the other generously raising my shirt to wipe at my mouth. "You need to visit the hospital. I'll take you. You're ill."
I shake my head. "No, no. It goes away with time. I haven't felt it this bad, though."
"Come on. Up you go," he demands lightly, helping me stand although I didn't need much of his help. "We're going," he firmly asserts, hand rubbing my side. I'm left without a choice, slipping my feet into my fluffy slippers as he grabs my jacket. Placing it over my shoulders, he leads me out and down my stairs as I softly insist he needs to stop worrying, his increasing pace a visible effect of his anxiety.
There was barely a second downstairs where I wasn't bombarded with Charlie's attempts. Brown eyes watching me carefully, with concern, disregarding our previous conflicts. I wanted to talk to him, but I ran back into the bathroom to throw up some more, feeling my stomach pain double in pain. My clammy skin is felt by my mother, who is now incredibly worried about the devolution of my health.
"Okay? Are you taking her, Harry? She might have the flu," my mother worriedly whispers to Harry, and Charlie who has inserted him into the conversation. Nathan sits at the living room, quietly staring at the commotion. Harry reassures my mother that he'll call her as soon as he knows anything. I grab my jacket, zipping it up and lazily grabbing my house keys from my bag. All the while Harry waits by the front door.
At the hospital, I'm given a pinkish, plastic container to regurgitate in as we wait. However, my nausea settled and I've gone through two water bottles already from dehydration. I insist that Harry sit a seat away to avoid getting sick. But as usual, he stubbornly resists and strokes the back of my head, tugging gently and soothingly at the roots of my hair. Sighing to myself, shutting my eyes, I lean into him and cease my initial concerns.
"Are you feeling a bit better?" He whispers into my ear hopefully, stroking my ear with his thumb, then my cheekbone. His touch is comforting and soothing, calming me even as I begin to overthink.
I nod slowly. "Yeah...the nausea stopped. I just...I'm tired," I admit softly, grabbing his hand, clasping it in both of my own smaller ones, rested against my lap. The waiting room was pretty empty if it weren't for a few stomach sick kids from all the candy and a few broken, sprained bone injury patients, and so I was hopeful I was going to be next. I was convinced that my issue was most likely indigestion or some kind of stomach bug, especially from eating so much.
"The cop investigating told me they haven't found anything," he informs me drearily. "Katherine has been a bit quiet lately. Have you heard of Keth?"
Groaning, I mutter, "I'm getting sick again just thinking about it. And no. Keth has been avoiding me on campus. And Katherine...I want to tell the cops about her and watch her rot. I'm tired of all of this, Harry." My confession doesn't surprise him. I'm sure he had dreaded telling the cops everything, but there is nothing more that we could lose. We can arrange for our families to be safe, and we both know that. I want him to see it, and in my ill mind, I'm exhausted of the panic and anxiety.
"Tara..."
"We have to," I insist softly, grimacing, my eyes still closed as I try to avoid getting sick again as these moments of painless symptoms is relief. "We have nothing up our sleeves. We've been following her rules, and she expects us to. I think the one thing she doesn't expect is that we tell everyone everything."
Harry doesn't say anything, hesitant to respond. "I've been thinking about it," he confesses quietly, and I squeeze his single hand on my lap with my two clammy ones. "There's nothing else we can do. Nothing else is more help."
"We can tell them as soon as I stop getting...sick," I gag again, though the feeling dissolves quickly right after, Harry already sitting up and bending to grab the container from the floor. Raising my hand, I shake my head, beckoning that I don't need it. Harry sets it back down, alerted now and observant. Grunting in annoyance, I sit back against the chair, praying that the symptoms of whatever stomach bug I have retreats into non existence.
Time seems to flow rather quickly, but my hazy state allows me to not be lucid throughout the long minutes. Harry calls Erin about picking up Nathan at my place, and then continues to notice his coach about not being able to attend a meeting the team was having. My mind travels towards finishing my term paper that would conclude my junior year of college as an English major.
"Harry...you're graduating soon," I randomly think out, blindly reaching for his shoulder, grasping the fabric of his jacket there.
He nods. "Yeah, in the Spring."
"Are you excited?" I try to distract myself with conversation, about something motivating and light hearted. Leaning my head onto his shoulder, I inhale the menacing smell of sanitary and cleaning products, the stench discomforting that gives hospitals that weird aroma of peril. I shut my eyes again, clearing my throat while Harry bends his arm latched to the shoulder I rest on, reaching to cup my cheek with his wide hand, stroking his thumb across my cheek. I hum, smiling faintly at his sweet, comforting gestures.
Again, he nods, pale eyes wandering the waiting area and the moving bodies occupied with other matters. "Yeah, I am. Just glad to be finished, really. I was going to talk to you about doing my graduate somewhere else, for legal psychology."
"Really?" I open my eyes, aimlessly watching a nurse write down a last name on a white board hung across the door of a patient room.
"Yeah. I'd like to be in a court of law, make sure jurors aren't misguided. It's...close enough to home," he points out, feeling his hand over my forehead. "You're not warm anymore. You'll heal before we get help over here," he grumbles with agitation.
"Yeah..." I huff. "I think I'm going to settle for editing. My mom knows a woman in Seattle who works for a publishing company. But I don't want to move to Seattle right after graduating..." I mutter aimlessly. "You'd be so good at legal psychology. You're straightforward and charming."
Harry laughs softly. "You're all over the place, baby. But Seattle? We could do it. I'll take a year off while you finish your last year. There's plenty of opportunities in Seattle for both of us."
"Really?" I breathe out, hopeful, my voice higher than needed.
"Yeah, why not?"
"My mom will follow us. She'll dictate everything. And we'll take Erin and Nathan with us. Everyone, we'll take everyone," I ramble off without care, our plans suddenly become wishful thinking. A dream, and a beautiful one at that.
Harry chuckles softly at my soft, hazy babbles. "Yeah, exactly," he coos, coddling my sick idiot feelings. He presses a kiss to my hairline, grinning to himself, the curve of his mouth felt on my skin.
"Tara Mercado?"
We both turn our heads to look over at the nurse that had called my name. All I can think to myself is that I don't want to move from the seat now that my symptoms have settled and the nausea was suppressed by my comfortable position.
Harry helps me up regardless, eager to hear a diagnosis and take me home. We're lead towards a room where I'm told to sit on the bed, the set paper rolled out freshly. I take my seat, eventually laying on my side with the sickness returning. The kind nurse softly reminds me that the container is nearby as she sets it beside me. Harry sits at a chair by the corner of the room, letting me rest a bit on my own. Kind enough not to instruct me to move about, the nurse takes my blood pressure and takes my temperature for me.
"We're going to need a urine sample. If that's okay?"
"I drank three water bottles. I can piss in a cup just fine," I bluntly snigger. Harry shakes his head at me from the chair.
She chuckles softly. "Okay, well," she sets the cup down at the desk beside where I lay, "It's right here. I'll be back in 10 minutes. The bathroom is right there. Put the cup in the little compartment there labeled for samples." The nurse points to the bathroom door behind me. "The doctor will come in and ask you all the basics in a few minutes."
When she leaves, I force myself up, reaching for the cup. I hop off the bed and walk into the bathroom, doing my business before doing as directed, pulling open the compartment for the samples. I lazily and groggily walk back, shuffling and my fluffy slippers sliding across the floors. Harry looks up from his phone, putting it in the pocket of his jacket.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm feeling better. Just...I need my bed, and some...curly fries and grapes."
"Curly fries and grapes..." Harry mutters, frowning with slight amusement as he watches me settle onto the bed again. "You're so strange."
There's a knock on the door, and we silence as a doctor comes in, pressing his hand against the hand sanitizers dispenser by the door. A bright, charming smile crosses his neatly trimmed bearded face, set of white teeth revealed. Brown skin sun-kissed, and his greying eyes wandering between us both as he rubs his hands together. "Hello," he nods in acknowledgement at Harry, "I'm Doctor Benerman." He turns to look at me. "So...Tara, right?" I nod, sitting up with little care as to my posture. "You've been vomiting constantly?"
"It comes and goes. Like a wave of nausea," I explain with a sigh as the doctor takes a seat at the rolling chair, using his legs to approach me at the bed.
"Okay...is this usually after you eat something? Or just certain smells? Or maybe just at random?"
"Random, yeah."
"Hmm, well...we're testing your urine sample right now...is this accompanied by abdominal pain? Belly aches? Can you describe where it hurts?" He questions, kind face seeming concerned.
"It's usually just like a heavy feeling, a little burning, too. Not abdominal, but around," I press to a few inches beneath my breasts, "here."
Doctor Benerman stands and asks if it's alright to touch, and I nod my head and lay back. Harry simply watches, his leg bouncing up and down involuntary, a habit of his whenever he's a bit anxious. The doctor presses into my stomach in certain areas, asking if the pressure hurts. I shake my head, feeling no particular pain.
He moves away and sits back down, clasping his hands. "Have you noticed any changes In menstruation? Is your period late?"
I feel my throat constrict slightly, and Harry watches almost blankly if it weren't for the furrowed eyebrows and concerned pale eyes. "I thought...it was stress. Because I've had plenty of that...but...yeah. I'm a little late."
"Stress can effect your cycle, for sure. But depending on how late you are...and if you're sexually active, it could certainly be some form of morning sickness. Typically it subsides throughout the day, but it's not entirely uncommon for it to last this way for some," he explains, and the whole time my ears are losing function, my eyes hollowing a bit as my mind travels elsewhere. Harry glides his hands into his jeans, clearing his throat.
The doctor turns to look at Harry. "Are you the boyfriend?" He nods, still responsive, impressively since I've already begun to mentally check out. "Okay, well, we can't rule out everything. She has no fever, and no particular stomach pain. Just the heavy, reoccurring nausea. I'll be back with the urine test results. Okay?"
I manage to stiffly nod. He exits the room, leaving Harry and I in our now tense, unbearable silence. My hands come to rub at my cheeks, feeling myself start to panic. I shut my eyes and refuse to look at Harry, knowing he's getting just as anxious and panicked as I am. Feeling light headed, I lay down once again, on my back. My eyes pry open slightly, looking up at the ceiling of the bright room.
"I can't be pregnant," I breathe so softly beneath my breath. Over and over again. I can hear Harry's footsteps and for a moment I think he'll walk towards me, but then the bathroom door shuts and then the sound of running water airs out. I can imagine him splashing his face with cold water. My mind pulses and my head throbs again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I whisper again, "I can't be pregnant. I can't be pregnant."
After a few minutes, the water still running, I get tired of listening to the endless sound. "Harry," I call out exhaustively. Using an arm, I sit back up and lean against my palm, the noise stopping, watching the bathroom door open to reveal a paled Harry. "I'm going to have a panic attack if you don't say anything," I caution, eyes growing in size, glistening and glassy.
Harry inhales deeply. He's making me so nervous, and I just can't look away. Finally, he mutters, "I...I just...I have the money. Resources. I love you. It's fine."
"Why...why do you sound like you're reading off a grocery list?" I joke dryly, nervous gaze watching him carefully.
He shakes his head, running his hands through his hair, tugging lightly. "You know, even at the possibility, the first thing I thought of was screwing this up. I thought about Katherine wanting to hurt you. That's...the only thing on my mind right now. And it just got...so, so much worse." His breathing rate increases.
"Okay," I exhale, shaking my head. "I'm not thinking about that. I'm thinking about my mom smacking me. And then smacking you."
"That's...a happier thought," he nods, breathing deeply. Green eyes finally meeting mine.
"Yeah. Right? And...I mean, she won't be that mad. She loves you. We can make this work," I reassure, but I sounded more willing to try and convince myself that this would be okay. "Please come over here."
Harry sits beside me on the bed, wrapping his arms around my waist. He rests his cheek against the top of my head, squeezing me tight as I wind my arms around his torso, nose brushing the fabric of his shirt beneath his jacket. He rubs his hand onto my arm, creating warmth with friction. "I'm gonna pee myself," I whisper, sniffling now, blinking rapidly. "And I don't know if it's because I drank so much water...or because I'm scared."
"Shh," he squeezes me closer. "Please don't panic. I'll panic. Let's just relax."
"Okay, okay," I breathe in deeply.
A knock slices through the tension. My heart stops. Doctor Benerman walks in, holding a clipboard this time. He looks up at us, a faint smile on his face. "Well your tests are back...and to sum things up, you...are...pregnant," he gushes.
note: ya'll are gonna wanna rock my shit when you figure out the upcoming plot twist lmao. (yes the baby is Harry's, let's get that one out of the way right now) but thanks for reading!!!!
predictions?! how bad do you think this is for them? is it good?