Page 37
Story: Tiny Precious Secrets
“I’m not going anywhere in Cal Creek, Mia.”
“Okay then, who was your doctor last time?” She opens a browser, ready to do a search.
“Miller. In Brooklyn.”
“Hmmm.” She types, reads, types, reads, then sighs. “There was a Dr. Lauren Miller. OB/GYN in Brooklyn. Retired five years ago.” She taps her screen, and I hear ringing through the speaker. “We can still try her old office.”
I listen as Mia tries to get me an appointment, but the lady on the phone insists the soonest is three weeks.
“Three weeks?” I cry when she hangs up. “I can’t wait that long.”
She tries a few more offices and the quickest appointment she can get is twelve days from now.
“I’ll go crazy if I have to wait twelve days.”
She holds out her phone with her cousin’s number pulled up on the screen. “I’ll bet he could work you in today.”
I bat it away. “Not happening.”
“Okay. Twelve days it is. Guess you’re going in to work today?”
I hate how passive-aggressive she’s being right now. But I also know I’m not going to cave and go somewhere local. “What if we go to an emergency room in the city?”
She eyes me like I’m crazy. “To get an ultrasound?”
“I could say I’m from out of town and I’m spotting and want to make sure everything’s okay.”
She thinks on it and shrugs. “Get dressed. I’ll tell my brothers not to expect me at work until this afternoon.”
An hour later, we’re sitting in a busy emergency room. Unlike me, there are people here withrealemergencies. Broken bones. Flu. A guy comes in with a nail in his shoulder. Babies are crying. Kids are complaining. A man is yelling at the admit nurse that he’s been here for four hours.
I lean to Mia. “What do I say when they ask how far along I am or what my due date is?”
“Give them your best guess. By the time you get the ultrasound and they figure out you were lying, you’ll have your answers.”
A kid comes in with a bloody nose. His mom carries him to the front desk, droplets of blood trailing behind them. “I feel guilty about taking a room from someone who really needs it.”
A woman stands up and stomps out. “I’m going to the free clinic. It’ll probably be a shorter wait.”
I raise a brow. “What if we did that? There must be free clinics all over the city.”
“Yeah, if you want to risk life and limb to go there. I’m sure they’re in shady areas.”
“Maybe not.” I search on my phone then grab Mia’s arm. “Check this out. There’s a women’s clinic a mile away. It says they offer free ultrasounds to confirm pregnancy, estimate gestational age, and detect cardiac activity.” I stand. “Come on.”
She takes my phone and looks at the pinned address. “You sure you want to go there?”
“I’m sure.”
She eyes me up and down. “Got any valuables on you?”
“It’s not going to be that bad.”
When we get there, I try to pretend Mia wasn’t right. But, oh my god, she was. We are so out of place here. Most of the women waiting to be seen aren’t even wearing clean clothes. A lot of them have two or three kids in tow, many of them in soiled, ripped clothing.
I run a hand through my hair to mess it up, and I untuck my shirt to appear more disheveled. I sigh, feeling even guiltier here than at the ER.
“You lost?” the woman at the counter asks, popping her gum.
“Okay then, who was your doctor last time?” She opens a browser, ready to do a search.
“Miller. In Brooklyn.”
“Hmmm.” She types, reads, types, reads, then sighs. “There was a Dr. Lauren Miller. OB/GYN in Brooklyn. Retired five years ago.” She taps her screen, and I hear ringing through the speaker. “We can still try her old office.”
I listen as Mia tries to get me an appointment, but the lady on the phone insists the soonest is three weeks.
“Three weeks?” I cry when she hangs up. “I can’t wait that long.”
She tries a few more offices and the quickest appointment she can get is twelve days from now.
“I’ll go crazy if I have to wait twelve days.”
She holds out her phone with her cousin’s number pulled up on the screen. “I’ll bet he could work you in today.”
I bat it away. “Not happening.”
“Okay. Twelve days it is. Guess you’re going in to work today?”
I hate how passive-aggressive she’s being right now. But I also know I’m not going to cave and go somewhere local. “What if we go to an emergency room in the city?”
She eyes me like I’m crazy. “To get an ultrasound?”
“I could say I’m from out of town and I’m spotting and want to make sure everything’s okay.”
She thinks on it and shrugs. “Get dressed. I’ll tell my brothers not to expect me at work until this afternoon.”
An hour later, we’re sitting in a busy emergency room. Unlike me, there are people here withrealemergencies. Broken bones. Flu. A guy comes in with a nail in his shoulder. Babies are crying. Kids are complaining. A man is yelling at the admit nurse that he’s been here for four hours.
I lean to Mia. “What do I say when they ask how far along I am or what my due date is?”
“Give them your best guess. By the time you get the ultrasound and they figure out you were lying, you’ll have your answers.”
A kid comes in with a bloody nose. His mom carries him to the front desk, droplets of blood trailing behind them. “I feel guilty about taking a room from someone who really needs it.”
A woman stands up and stomps out. “I’m going to the free clinic. It’ll probably be a shorter wait.”
I raise a brow. “What if we did that? There must be free clinics all over the city.”
“Yeah, if you want to risk life and limb to go there. I’m sure they’re in shady areas.”
“Maybe not.” I search on my phone then grab Mia’s arm. “Check this out. There’s a women’s clinic a mile away. It says they offer free ultrasounds to confirm pregnancy, estimate gestational age, and detect cardiac activity.” I stand. “Come on.”
She takes my phone and looks at the pinned address. “You sure you want to go there?”
“I’m sure.”
She eyes me up and down. “Got any valuables on you?”
“It’s not going to be that bad.”
When we get there, I try to pretend Mia wasn’t right. But, oh my god, she was. We are so out of place here. Most of the women waiting to be seen aren’t even wearing clean clothes. A lot of them have two or three kids in tow, many of them in soiled, ripped clothing.
I run a hand through my hair to mess it up, and I untuck my shirt to appear more disheveled. I sigh, feeling even guiltier here than at the ER.
“You lost?” the woman at the counter asks, popping her gum.
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