Fool Me Once

“Shh… it’s okay,” she coos. Her words are meant to soothe me, but having my sister hug me for the first time in almost two years does the opposite. The wall I’ve been building to protect my heart from her crumbles, and every emotion I’ve been holding in flows out of me as I cry in my sister’s arms.

“I can’t be pregnant,” I sob. “I can’t be.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Sierra says, pulling back. Her hands cup the sides of my cheeks. “You’re my sister, and I’ll be right by your side.” These are the words I’ve been waiting to hear for years, but not under these circumstances. Oh, the irony…

“No, you don’t get it,” I say exasperated. “I can’t be pregnant.” I glance over at the doctor. “The guy I slept with… We used protection every single time.”

Sierra gives me a curious look. She’ll definitely be asking me later who this guy is.

“Any form of birth control is never one hundred percent effective,” Dr. Peterson says softly. I know she’s right, but we used one every damn time. I would’ve known it if something went wrong, right?

“I’ve put an order in for an ultrasound,” she says. “I’m just waiting for the room to become available. We’ll be able to confirm it then.” She takes a deep breath, then adds, “If you’re not in a place to have a baby, please know you have options.” Her eyes meet mine, and my stomach drops at the look of pity she’s giving me. “Once we confirm it, one way or another, we’ll go from there.”

The nurse pops her head in and lets the doctor know the room is available, and Sierra and I follow her into the dark room. I lie on the bed and spread my thighs, and Dr. Peterson walks me through what she’s doing as she pushes a dildo-looking thing into me. The screen lights up, and a loud whooshing sound comes over the speakers. It reminds me of the beach on a windy day.

“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Peterson says. The breath I didn’t know I was holding releases, turning into a choked sob. Tears stream down my face, the warm drops of devastation landing in my ears. She probes around inside of me, clicking and freezing the screen a few times. “You appear to be roughly eight weeks along, due December 14. This can change over time. It’s hard to be exact this early in the pregnancy. But everything looks good.” She pulls the dildo out of me, then hands me a couple black and white images—my baby.

“I’m going to give you a few minutes,” Dr. Peterson says. “Once you’re ready, you can go get dressed and then meet me in my office, so we can talk.”

Once the doctor leaves, closing the door behind her, Sierra grabs my hand and entwines our fingers together as I stare at the tiny blob through my blurred vision. “Don’t cry, B, please,” she begs. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I tell her. “No matter what decision I make, it will never be okay.”

I begin to play out every possible scenario for Sierra. “I keep the baby, and I have to drop out of school. I’ll have to raise it by myself. Keegan never texted. I gave—”

“Who’s Keegan?” Sierra asks, cutting me off.

“The guy I slept with,” I admit sheepishly.

“Where? When?” Her brows come together in confusion.

“Cocoa Beach during spring break.”

Sierra frowns. “You slept with someone two months ago and never told me…” It’s not a question, but more of an observation. The way her eyes widen and her brows furrow, it’s as if she’s finally realizing what she’s done. I hold my breath, hoping and praying she doesn’t push me away and run out the door. I’m not sure I can handle her stepping halfway through the door only to walk back out. Leaving me to deal with my future alone.

“You haven’t spoken to me in two years,” I say nervously. “I didn’t really think to confide in you about my sex life.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I know.” Tears brim her lids. “I just can’t believe how long we’ve gone without talking.” Her light brown eyes meet mine. “I pushed you away and you kept begging me to let you in. Our mom has been gone for two years. Two years.” She throws her arms around me, and I wrap mine around her as she cries into my shoulder, finally opening up and letting her grief surface. “You’re my best friend,” she says through her cries. “I’m so sorry. I’m such a horrible sister. Things are going to be different, starting right now.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. And it is. She’s my sister. Of course I’m going to forgive her. “Everybody handles grief in their own way.”

Sierra pulls back, and we both wipe our eyes. “I’m such a mess,” Sierra says through a sobbing laugh. “Thank you for being so patient. I promise I’m never going to push you away again.”