Page 217 of Show Me

The hallway. His mouth on mine. My back against the wall because neither of us could make it to the bedroom without stopping.

Casual.

God, we were idiots.

“Your hormone levels look appropriate for this stage,” she continues. “Nothing in your blood work is concerning.”

Relief comes so fast my eyes burn. “And the attack? The concussion?”

“Nothing you've told me or anything in your records gives me reason to think the pregnancy was harmed.”

I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. “Okay.”

“Have you had any bleeding? Significant cramping?”

“No.”

“That’s all good news.” She goes over prenatal vitamins, medications, foods to avoid, and symptoms that warrant a call. This time I make myself listen. Not just for me anymore.

That thought keeps catching me off guard.

“Morning sickness can start around this point,” she says.

“I've already met that.”

She laughs. “Unfortunately, you may get better acquainted before it stops.”

“Fantastic.”

“We'll schedule your first ultrasound and follow-up before you leave.”

An ultrasound. My heart does something strange. There will be something to see. Maybe not much yet, but something. A baby. My baby.

The doctor closes the tablet. “Any other questions?”

About a thousand. None of them are medical. How do I tell the father? What if he stays because he feels obligated? What if he doesn't want this? What if I want it enough for both of us? What if I screw everything up?

I shake my head. “Not right now.”

“That’s normal too. Write them down when they come to you.” She hands me a folder. “Congratulations, Ruby. You’re having a baby.”

There it is again. Baby. That word. This time, I let myself feel it. A tiny smile pulls at my mouth. “Thank you.”

*****

Cold December air hits my face when I leave the clinic. Dad is waiting in the pickup exactly where I left him, thermos in one hand.

He straightens the second he sees me. I climb inside and shut the door. “Well?”

I look down at the folder in my lap. “It’s real.”

Dad's expression softens. “Everything okay?”

“Everything looks good. Around nine weeks. I have an ultrasound coming up.”

He nods slowly. “That's good.”

“Yeah.”