Oreos for Breakfast: Chapter 30

Oreos For Breakfast: Chapter 30
By the Paperbag Princess and Pumpkin Coach

As the elevator traveled up to the 12th floor, I had to remind myself to breathe. Looking over at Nick, I thought maybe I should remind him, too. He was staring at the numbers above the door and biting his bottom lip. I was pretty sure the circulation was going to stop in my hand, since he was holding it so tightly, but I didn't really mind. Part of me couldn't believe he was standing next to me.

We'd talked so much yesterday, and I thought we were okay. Sure, he'd been excited about the prospect of a baby, but he knew that I was right. We were too young and our relationship was too new. I didn't know how I could live with myself if I took the promise of a career away from James and Darien and… Jeremy. On some level, that was the worst one. Last night I'd dreamt about Jeremy for the first time in… a long time. I'd woken up in the middle, not really remembering what I was dreaming, but knowing that it was good. Somehow the Jeremy dream had calmed me, and when I snuggled up against Nick and he murmured he loved me from his own dream… I felt somehow surrounded by love.

On the drive down, I tried not to think about Dad. Mom always said he was watching over me and I hoped that wasn't happening today. Maybe today Dad was golfing with John Lennon and Frank Sinatra or something.

A girl could hope, right?

Especially when the girl was filling out all this really personal information that no parent should see. The nurse with kind hazel eyes had greeted me and Nick, calling us Mr. and Mrs. Smith without any sense of irony, even though Nick had to stifle a laugh. Now was not the time to laugh, and we both knew it. Maybe it was like needing to laugh at a funeral or… bad analogy, huh? They all were really.

Back to my form… I looked over the risks involved. Side effects like cramping and bleeding and fatigue. I couldn't imagine being more tired than I'd been over the last week. No way could I be pregnant and tour. Not with our schedule. They'd have to find time for me to have 8 hours of sleep a night and at least one nap a day. I could just imagine it now… "Excuse me, but Ms. Connor has to go to her nap now, can you soundcheck later?" That was not my life.

No, this was. Sitting here in this very nice, but very sterile, doctor's office feeling every breath Nick took as we read through the forms. He was still holding my hand. "Bunny, I need to write."

As soon as he let go of my hand, he put an arm around my shoulders. That was nice, too. I loved him for so many reasons, but right now I just loved that he was here with me. I didn't want to talk and process everything for the millionth time. I just wanted it to be over. I suspected that he did, too.

I looked down at the form: "Most women report a sense of relief after abortion." You don't say? I couldn't wait. I'd made the decision and now it just needed to be finished. Thank God we weren't in one of those states that required a waiting period or counseling the day before. Although I had a feeling that Lola would have been able to get us out of any other hoops we had to jump through.

Was this my first taste of how laws didn't have to apply to me now that I was a 'celebrity'?

"Women also experience sadness, guilt or other emotional reactions," Nick whispered as he read.

I looked up at him. "See? Sad is okay."

He nodded and then leaned down, kissing my forehead tenderly. "I'm a little sad, Rache. I know it's okay, but…"

I didn't want to hear it. I couldn't. I knew he was sad and we'd deal with that tonight or tomorrow or… later. Right now, I had to keep reading. "I know, Nick. Me, too."

All last night he'd been asking me a question that only had one word: "Someday?"

Even if it wasn't out loud, every conversation ended with that. It was the hopeful look in his eye or the small smile that'd cross his lips when we'd talk about the future. Someday. It ceased being a timeframe and had become a question in my life.

Someday?

I hoped so. I'd read articles that said that abortion increases difficulty in having children later in life and that scared me. But then other experts said that wasn't true. I wasn't sure what to believe.

Would it change my mind if I knew this was the only baby I could ever have?

I couldn't let myself dwell on that. Looking down at this form that would soon contain all my secrets, my heart began to race until I saw the underlined text at the bottom: All information is confidential.

I took a deep breath, hoping that they were right. The last thing I needed was someone leaking this to the press. I felt Nick's arm tighten around me as I filled out the form, using the name that the nurse had given me when we came in and the address Lola had given me yesterday. They'd be able to find me through Lola, so it was okay. They'd give Nick and me instructions when we left, in case there were any complications. But I was barely 4 weeks along. This was going to be fine.

I ticked off my medical history on the form - allergies, family history, other conditions. Nick and I both read "severe mood swings" at the same time and I looked up at him, "Don't even say it."

That lightened the mood in the room for a moment and he leaned down, giving me a quick kiss. "Do you want me to leave you alone for this?"

Looking back at the form, I saw what he was referring to. It was the sex history part. I shook my head - why have secrets now? We were now co-conspirators in the largest secret of my life.

We read the questions silently together as Rachel checked off the 'yes's. I tried not to even breathe, for fear that she'd think I was judging her or something. I wasn't. Not really. But part of me was sort of shocked… not that my answers would be different. I guess it was just weird seeing it in black and white.

"Sexually active…" Rachel checked off all the possible types of sex and I felt myself blushing. Was it getting warmer in here? Did anal count if it was only once?

"More than one sex partner in the last year." I hadn't even known her for a year. So, yes. And then when we were broken up…

"Uses condoms with sex every time." Obviously not or we wouldn't be here, would we?

I was so dumb to suggest that we not use a condom on my birthday. But we were having such an amazing time and we always used one. I just wanted it to be… special. Just us with no barriers. I guess we wouldn't be doing that again, would we?

But the weird thing was that it was special. I'd felt closer to her that day than I'd ever been. Okay, it was partly the things we were doing. But I'd never trusted anyone like I trusted Rachel.

And I trusted her now. I had to.

"Planning a pregnancy in the future." I looked away, part of me afraid of what she'd check on that one. She'd told me yesterday that she wanted children. Someday. Just not now. This wasn't about her not loving me or not wanting to be with me. This was about timing. It just wasn't right and we both knew it.

Rachel finished the form and suddenly it was time. The nurse came back into the room, holding out her hand for Rachel. I wanted to go, but they both told me I had to stay. I couldn't go back with her. But I wanted to be there. She needed someone to hold her hand. This was mine, too. My fault. My responsibility. Mine.

I spent the longest 30 minutes of my life waiting for her… waiting for anything to happen. I could hear people talking in the other room. Lola had assured us that Rachel would be the only patient in the office today and I was pretty sure she was. There were a couple of nurses, and I hadn't met the doctor.

I kept repeating to myself that this was going to be okay. Last night I'd wanted to call and talk to someone, tell someone, but I knew I couldn't. Rachel wasn't even telling James, and he knew everything about her.

But he didn't know about the last one, did he? No, only I knew that.

Finally, after I'd memorized everything on the after procedure care brochure, and flipped through every magazine in the waiting room, the same nurse that had taken Rachel away came back. "Mr. Smith? You can see her now."

I was out the door in less than a second. "Is she okay?" I asked the nurse, and she smiled.

"She's fine. The doctor will be right in, to tell you that."

She opened the door to a small room. It looked like a spa, not a medical office. There was a low light in the corner and candles all around. Rachel's jacket was hanging on a hook on the wall, with her shoes on the floor under it. There were a couple of chairs, and a bed. It looked sort of like a massage table, so maybe it was just a cot. But Rachel looked comfortable, lying there with her eyes closed, under a white blanket. I felt pretty sure this was nicer than the clinic she'd been planning on going to.

I looked back at the nurse, wondering if Rachel was asleep. She didn't have to go under for this, did she? The stuff I'd read on-line yesterday said she wouldn't need a general anesthetic.

"She took well to the anesthetic. She might be groggy for a couple of hours. I suggest you pay close attention to what the doctor has to say, because I'm not sure that Mrs. Smith will be listening."

Was the doctor going to say anything different than what was on the brochure? Because I had that one covered. She might have some cramping, or spotting, be a little tired and depressed. No sex for at least a week. I didn't care. I wasn't going anywhere until Rachel went to join the 'Nsync tour next week. Even then, I might not go anywhere. Why should I?

Right. We had management meetings in New York on Monday. Fuck that. I didn't care what Backstreet was doing, so they could decide whatever they wanted to. Being with Rachel and making sure she was okay was much more important.

The nurse left us alone, and I sat in the chair next to her bed. I rolled the chair over to be closer to her, stroking her face. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at me. "Hi."

"Hi. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine. Tired. When did you come in?"

I smiled. "Just a second ago. I think you were sleeping."

"The drugs were good," she said with a small smile, and I kissed her lightly.

"You can sleep on the drive home. You can sleep now, if you want. I'll pay attention to whatever the doctor has to say."

"She was nice."

"Good."

Rachel reached up, touching my face, and I caught her hand, kissing it. "Thank you, Nick."

"For what?"

"Just… for just being here. For taking care of things, so that we had privacy."

"And this nice room," I joked, making her smile.

"I guess they have demanding clientele. But… it doesn't matter how nice it is. That's not the important part. You made me worry less."

I kissed her. "I don't want you to worry about anything. The hard part is over. Now I just want you to feel better, and we'll be okay."

I really hoped that was true.

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