No Tomorrow

“Don’t think about tomorrow, Piper. I can see it in your eyes, and it’ll only drive you crazy.”

I’m already crazy, though. I’m crazy about him, and I’m crazy for letting him fuck me here on an old, musty sleeping bag next to his dog and a stuffed penguin missing an eye, in a toolshed that smells like gasoline and fertilizer.

The thing about being crazy is that it can slowly become normal before you even realize it.

Chapter Eight

Last night, there was a message from Dr. Green on my answering machine, asking me to call her back at my earliest convenience. She left the message three days ago, but I had no idea that little red, flashing four on my machine indicated an important message. I assumed the four messages were all from Ditra, and I refused to listen to them because I knew she was beyond the joking stage about me not telling her all the details about my current life, and she had moved into the worried and demanding phase.

In a few days I’ll call Ditra and share everything with her. But first I need to call Dr. Green and find out what my test results are.

Even though I don’t have a coworker immediately within listening distance of my desk, I wait until they all leave for lunch before I call the doctor’s office back.

“Hi, this is Piper Karel. I’m returning Dr. Green’s call,” I tell the receptionist.

“One moment, please. I’ll connect you.”

My palm is sweaty against the plastic phone as I listen to hold music that should be soothing but isn’t. The only music that soothes me now is Blue’s.

I’m sure the doctor is going to give me the worst news of my life once this moment of hold ends. We all know if she had good news, she would have left a simple message on my answering machine at home. She wouldn’t be torturing me by making me call her back.

Finally, the hold music is cut off.

“Piper, it’s Dr. Green. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I reply, wondering if she expected me to be feeling sick, itchy, and feverish by now. Or maybe suffering with morning sickness.

“Great. I wanted to tell you that all your test results came back negative.”

My mouth falls open in surprise and I tap the volume button on the base of the desk phone to make sure I’m hearing her properly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Is anything going on to make you question the results?”

“No… not at all. I’ve just been worried.”

“I know, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you personally to put your mind at ease.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“As we discussed during your appointment, if you are going to be sexually active with a partner you’re not feeling overly safe with, then I suggest you use condoms in conjunction with the birth control pill. I’d like to see you in another three months for a checkup and to run the tests again.”

More tests. That means something could still be dormant inside me, waiting to sprout up at the most inopportune time.

Gulping, I twist around to make sure I’m still alone. “Do you think that’s necessary?”

“Given the information you revealed during your appointment, yes, I really do. It’s your choice, of course.”

Her words paint a much prettier picture than the reality of what happened during my appointment. The reveal of information was me having a sobbing, hysterical meltdown with my feet in stirrups and my ass at the edge of a paper-lined exam table. Dr. Green and her nurse were both incredibly sweet and comforting during the exam as I rambled on tearfully about Evan and the bridge and the bending over and the dick sucking. They listened to me with empathetic, non-judgmental smiles. The nurse held my hand as I was spread, scraped, and poked, then gave me a paper cup of ice water and a box of tissues. When I had finally calmed down enough to get dressed, I was given a small plastic bag filled with condom samples and pamphlets about safe sex.

“Well, yeah, but I’ve talked to my boyfriend since then, and he hasn’t had as many partners as I originally thought.”

The word boyfriend feels foreign on my tongue, as if I’m speaking another language or perhaps telling a lie.

“That’s good to hear. I still highly recommend practicing safe sex at all times and a checkup in three months. You can call back to schedule. And if you have any questions in the meantime, please don’t hesitate to call me or make an appointment to come see me, all right?”

“I definitely will.”

Relief overpowers me when I hang up the phone, and it’s so overwhelming I actually feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. I grab my water bottle and take a few sips between deep breaths.

“What’s wrong?” Melissa asks, appearing suddenly and dumping a pile of file folders onto my desk. “These are from Anne in accounting.”