by Shey Stahl
“Shut up,” Evan groaned knowing he was making it worse and ducked when I reached over him to punch Remy in the ear.
“What? We all know Callie ain’t mother material. She fucks good but do you really see her being a mother?”
I didn’t want to hear that.
“Do you know what shut the fuck up means?” I asked, glaring at him. “Sunmi doesn’t.”
Remy smiled. “Do you know what suck my dick means?”
I shook my head, some humor returning, despite wanting to punch my friend in the face.
“No… but Ryan does.” Mase said, putting his magazine aside. I think he knew shit was about to get physical.
Ryan snorted in front of us. “How’s your balls, Mase? Baby soft?”
“Yeah, come back here and I’ll tea bag ya. Put those baby softs right on your fuckin’ forehead.”
I started laughing when Mase slouched and unbuttoned his slacks, ready to bare his junk to everyone if needed.
About ten minutes went by and I had the nerve to ask, knowing damn well I should have just shut up, “Did she say if Callie went to the doctor?”
Evan stared at me, silent for a moment and then rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to be part of this. “You need to talk to her about that.”
“I’ve tried.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Okay, I haven’t.” I sighed and turned towards him, wanting to plead my case. “It’s just a misunderstanding.”
“What’s a misunderstanding?” Remy leaned forward. “Did you fuck her best friend or something?”
Evan glared and jabbed at Remy’s chest poking him in the eye instead. “Ami’s her best friend.”
“Yeah, don’t be nasty.”
Remy chuckled, rubbing his eye. “This coming from the guy who wrote suck me on his dick with a Sharpie and sent the picture to everyone in his contacts.”
I gave them both a blank stare. “I was drunk.”
“No, you were not.” Evan started laughing. “That was first thing in the morning.”
“Can we just focus? There’s more pressing matters here.”
“Yeah, like you’re fuckin’ face, man.” Ryan said, laughing. “You look like a pirate.”
I kicked the back of his seat. “Looks better than your goddamn hair. Who are you tryin’ to be anyhow, Justin Bieber?”
“Dude,” Remy leaned over Mase to talk to me again, like I needed his advice, and both Cage and Ryan who were in front of us popped over the seats to join the conversation. “How’d you piss off the mama?”
“Said it wasn’t mine.” I felt ashamed when the words left my mouth again.
Remy gave me a confused look. “Oh man. You need to redeem yourself!”
Ryan and Cage exchanged a look and Cage sat back down, not wanting any part of the conversation. Ryan, however, is dumb. And you’ll see why in a second.
“She’s fucked the entire team, almost… I would have said the same thing.”
Not what I wanted to hear.
I had my seatbelt undone, and laying over the seat throwing as many punches as I could before I was restrained by Remy and Mase, even Cage, who’d gotten a few elbows to the eye in the process, was trying to get me off of this dumb fucker.
My hands fisted in his white dress shirt drawing him closer to my face. “You say another fuckin’ thing like that and I will break your motherfucking teeth!”
Okay, so I was a bit high strung lately and possibly a tad aggressive. Who the hell was I these days?
I was sitting there, breathing heavy, pissed off and not wanting to hear anymore but Mase knew, right now, I needed someone to talk me down.
“Hey, buddy,” Mase said, low and only to me.
I knew I broke open a couple of those stitches but I didn’t fucking care at that point. The idea that Callie, my girl, whether she wanted to be or not, was with my boys made me furious. Even then, the idea that Ryan had fucked her made me sick.
I wanted to kill him for saying that regardless of the factuality of it because how fucking dare he?
Mase wasn’t going to let me act this way, always the guy to put everyone into his place and made you think.
For being twenty-two, he’s more like forty-two, mentally.
I’m more like thirteen.
“Get your head right.” He said to me. “I don’t know what’s going on here but I know my friend Callie needs you to do the right thing. Don’t go gettin’ your head filled with bullshit. You’re not that guy. You love her. Do the right thing.”
I gave a nod acknowledging what he said but didn’t reply. Instead, I stared out the window.
The right thing, huh.
Fuck if I even knew what that was at this moment with adrenaline and the desire to punch Ryan repeatedly until these damn girlie feelings coursing through my veins had thoroughly passed.
The more I thought, the more I obsessed. It was around one that morning when I got back to my condo and even then, given it was the first time I’d seen my bed in weeks, I couldn’t sleep because doing the right thing meant actually doing something.
I called Callie.
I prayed she wouldn’t answer because what would I say if she did?
Pressing my fingertips above my eye, checking the tenderness of the hit, I thought about what kind of message I would leave. I hadn’t spoken to her since that morning two weeks ago in Cabo when she dumped Mase’s drink on me.
As I waited through two rings, I couldn’t blame her for not answering. She had every right to ignore me.
Every right. I briefly wondered what I would say to her if she did answer, or didn’t. Should I leave a message? And then what would I say? Call me? Tell me to fuck off? Get lost?
And then she answered.
“What do you want? It’s one in the morning.”
Okay, so she was still mad. I couldn’t blame her.
Not only was I shocked she answered, I wasn’t sure what to do or say but went with, “Can we talk tomorrow at dinner?”
“Leo,” she sighed and I could hear the rustling noises of her blankets as she shifted in bed. “Why would you want to talk right now? Too humiliate me more? Accuse me of sleeping with the entire city?”
You have to admit, I had that coming.
“I’m sorry…” It was nowhere near good enough but I needed to say that much.
She said nothing, all I could hear was breathing and I thought, shit, what if she hung up. So I talked. Said stupid shit to see where that went.
“Do you hate me right now?”
Of course she hates you, dude.
Her sigh that followed said it all. Salty, sarcastic and foul-mouthed, Callie was no-holds-barred. If you didn’t want to know, you shouldn’t ask because she’d give the straight shit. And by the sigh she was about to lay into me. “I certainly don’t like you. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me, dick head?”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “I know I don’t deserve it but I want to talk and apologize in person. Can I do that?”
“Fine. But don’t expect me to be nice to you.”
I laughed, slightly, trying to play it cool but not like I thought it was funny. “Okay, I’ll make reservations at Girl and the Goat.”
There was a long pause before she groaned, giving in. “Okay.” And then she hung up on me. No goodbye. Nothing.
Well, it was a start towards doing the right thing and she agreed to meet for lunch. Mentally I’d just scored two goals in one play.
Now, what the fuck was I going to say to her in person to make this situation right?
Callie Pratt
Sweep Check - A legal check where a player goes down on one knee and sweeps his stick along the ice in order to take the puck away from an attacking player.
Every time I’ve been to the doctor, it’s been for an annual check-up of the yearly “am I clean” appointment. The “am I pregnant” appointment was new to me. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. Would they stick that wand thing up my
vajayjay or ask me all kinds of incriminating questions like details about my sexual history? I hated those appointments and the paperwork because I never wanted to talk about that. In no way was I ashamed of my past. I’ve had some good times. But there is something about writing it down that depressed me. Made it feel worse than it actually was. Like balancing your checkbook. You know you’re fucking broke. Why balance it and remind yourself?
On February eleventh, a day I would never forget, I went to the doctor to confirm the whereabouts of the missing period or, in other words, the missing period positive pregnancy test theory. I also went alone because it went back to needing this one for me. I needed to come to terms with what was happening on my own before I could think about anything else. I needed to prove to myself that I could do this without anyone’s help. From here on out, I had to prepare for this to be a solo endeavor for my baby.
There I sat in a waiting room full of mothers-to-be and two teenage girls nervously biting fingernails beside their mother. I stared at them and saw myself at their age, maybe sixteen, possibly seventeen. Hell, maybe they were here for the same reason I was. More than likely they were sexually active and their mother was forcing them on the pill.
I was that girl once. Only I did this sort of thing alone. My dad wanted nothing to do with parenting a girl.
A boy he probably could have handled, but a girl, I think at times it was more than he bargained for. In turn, I raised myself and educated myself on the birds and the bees.
“Callie Pratt?” A woman in her late forties asked, standing near an open door with a clipboard in hand.
I stood with a smile and walked towards her. Greeting me with a smile, she gave a nod. “Follow me, hon.”
I did, all the way admiring her sense of style for someone forced to wear scrubs for a living. I personally found scrubs crazy comfortable. Had a few pairs myself that I’d stolen from an ER doctor I slept with two years ago when I broke my hand for punching a fan who had made fun of Leo at a Blackhawks game.
We walked down the hall, she stopped at a counter and handed me a plastic cup with a green lid. My eyes went to the cup and then her nails. They were artfully designed with splatter paint. “I’m sure you know what to do here, sweetie, but we just need a little tinkle.”
Was she five? Who was she talking to, me?
I even looked around to see if there was a toddler at my feet.
Without saying anything more, I took the cup from her and went towards the door.
“Just leave the cup in the window and meet me in the room on the left.” She pointed down the hall over her shoulder, her nose buried in the clipboard making notes with a pen that had a hot pink feather attached to the top. I half expected her to break out an assortment of butterfly erasers.
Flashing a smile, I disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, locking it, to tinkle. For a moment, I stood there with my back pressed against the cool hard wood wondering if this was really happening. Was I about to pee in a cup and determine my fate?
I knew my fate. Without a doubt I knew I was pregnant and this didn’t change anything.
So why was I nervous here?
Because, it would be official then.
It took me a few minutes to pee. It was like I had stage fright. I’m not sure how difficult peeing in a cup is for men but it’s not easy for girls. I always seem to miss a little and manage to soak my hand in the process.
After getting some in the cup, I washed my hands, put my tinkle in the window and returned to the room.
Ms. Tinkle did all the standard exam procedures, blood pressure, heart beat and then had me get into a gown before the doctor would be in.
“Oh,” she paused at the door. “I forgot. I have a few questions before the doctor comes in.” Holding the clipboard and her feather pen, she started writing on my chart.
“Shoot.” My eyes dropped to my bare legs knowing what those questions would be.
“When was your last period?” Her eyes never lifted from the clipboard.
“December fifteenth… I think. Not exactly positive but the Blackhawks had a home game that night.”
Ms. Tinkle looked up from the clipboard. “And how many years have you been sexually active?”
“Nine years.” Her eyes dropped. She was more than likely looking at my age of twenty-three and thinking, slut. Certifiable slut.
I, however, never saw it that way. I refuse to call myself that. Men can sleep with whomever they want and don’t get the dreaded S. I don’t deserve that either.
“Alright.” Tucking her clipboard to her chest, she smiled. “And the father… is he present?”
“Well, he’s not here… is he?” I winked at her, giving her a fake smile. I no longer liked her.
When she closed the door behind her, I scanned the walls with the pregnancy posters on babies in the womb and how they develop over time. The one at six weeks caught my attention because it actually looked like a little shrimp, tiny eyes and a tail.
Thankfully, the doctor wasn’t far behind and was in my room before I could escape. Believe me, I thought about just leaving. Maybe do this au naturale and avoid doctors altogether.
“Good morning, Ms. Pratt,” he said, greeting me with a smile. I missed my usual gynecologist already. Silently, I cursed her for moving to New York and accepting a position at a fancy medical school teaching soon-to-be doctors all the parts of the female anatomy. Now I was stuck with this guy and his tinkle nurse who clearly thought I was a slut. “I’m Dr. Sadie.” He reached out to shake my hand. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”
“Nope. First time.” I shook his hand noticing he had really soft hands for a man. “I’m Callie.”
“Well,” he looked down at my chart in his hands. “I see you’re expecting. Your urine test came back positive.”
“I guess I am.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So, this wasn’t planned?”
“No. Spontaneous drunk New Year’s sex with a condom.”
He laughed. “I’ve heard that one before. Actually, a girl this morning.”
“Ha. Can I have her number? Maybe we should start some kind of club.”
He smiled, his bright white teeth peeking out. If he wasn’t fifteen years older than me, he’d be attractive and I’d probably be attracted to him. He kind of reminded me of that doctor on Grey’s Anatomy. Dr. McSteamy. Forget dreamy. He was most certainly steamy.
Setting my chart down, he reached to his left for the ultrasound machine. “Why don’t you lie back and we’ll see if we can hear a heartbeat.”
“Oh, okay.” And then I started in with this word vomit. “I noticed some spotting this morning and wasn’t sure if that was normal.”
“Have you had intercourse lately?”
“Sadly, no.”
He laughed, his shoulders shaking. I liked this guy already. Sense of humor. “That’s perfectly normal in the first few weeks of pregnancy.”
I gave a nod and stared at the ceiling when I felt him touch the inside of my thigh. “This won’t hurt but it may be a tad uncomfortable.”
“That’s what he said.”
Dr. Sadie let out another laugh. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m nervous.”
Oh my God, shut up already!
“Perfectly normal.”
I didn’t watch as Dr. Sadie put the wand inside me, moved it around and then pointed to the screen. “And there’s your baby.”
I don’t know why but at that moment I got really hot, my whole body felt on fire as I stared at the blinking screen, a tiny black and white image of a little shrimp.
“That little flicker is the heartbeat. You’re almost eight weeks so that would make your due date September twenty-third.”
A baby. I was having a baby.
I was going to be a mother.
I didn’t say anything as he pressed another button and then handed me a picture of the frozen image on the screen.
Maybe it was my hesitation, or the l
ack of words but I think he knew I was scared.
In a caring gesture, he touched my forearm when he stood. “Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll come back in.”
I did as he said, had a slightly difficult time with all the goo from the ultrasound. I mean, really, that much lube?
It was insane.
When he came back in, he sat down in his chair and gave me that look. Like he was almost afraid to say something but wanted to. “I understand this baby wasn’t planned.”
It wasn’t a question but it was a motherfucking understatement.
I think he could tell I was apprehensive about the entire appointment, maybe he thought I was looking for an out when he slid a pamphlet across the exam table to me. “You have options, if you want them.”
I went silent.
What options?
I’m pregnant, dude.
And he left it at that and walked out.
I didn’t know if I wanted to be a mom but there also weren’t any options for me. I never considered not having the baby. Ever.
I may not have wanted to be a mother but it wasn’t going to stop me from being one. I could do this. I didn’t need anyone to help me. I had a job, an apartment, I could most definitely do this.
When I left that doctor’s office, I went to the store, bought a chocolate cake and ate nearly the entire thing while staring at that photograph the doctor gave me. And then I looked at the pamphlet I had stuffed in my purse. It made me angry to look at it.
I understood why some women chose to end their pregnancy, but it didn’t mean I was going to. This may have been unplanned but I had a part of Leo and me inside. I couldn’t… I just couldn’t.
Leo had called Saturday night, or I guess Sunday morning, after their long road trip to Canada and then to Arizona had ended begging me to hear him out. I didn’t want to. I didn’t even want to see him. Part of me was curious as to what he was going to say, the other was emotional and needed him in any way I could get him. So I said yes and met him at Girl and the Goat, the first place we ever went to dinner, that afternoon.
He was already seated at the table when I got there, waiting for me.
