Raw Deal (Beauty for Ashes: Book One) (41 page)

***

I managed to cut things off with Dan quite effectively. I changed my number so that he couldn’t call me, and I deleted his number so that I couldn’t call him in a moment of weakness. It killed me. I really liked him, but I didn’t want to cheat on Carl anymore.

After the vacation, I packed my things to return to college. My mom didn’t want me to stay home.

Carl came to pick me up to drive me back to college. “What’s up?” he asked. I was being pretty quiet.

“I don’t want to live on campus. I want to stay at home.”

“Well, stay at home then.”

“My mom wants me to spend at least my first year on campus.”

“The campus isn’t that bad, is it?”

“My block is,” I grumbled. “I really don’t want to go back there.”

“Move in with me.”

I looked at Carl as he drove. We’d had this argument before. I decided I didn’t want to argue. “Okay.”

Carl looked over at me briefly. “Today.”

“Okay,” I said again.

Chapter 50

Carl and I had been living together for over a month now, and he was driving me around the bend. He was so touchy and jealous, it was crazy. Whenever I wanted to go out with my girls, he couldn’t handle it. He was always convinced I was going to meet Dan. The few times I went out with him, he stuck to me like a leech. One night we were going to a Greek restaurant for dinner, and we were waiting for a taxi outside Marigold when Dan had walked past with a gang of guys. He came over to say hi, and after he left, Carl freaked out and accused me of flirting. I’d said no more than ‘hi,’ ‘I’m fine,’ and ‘see ya.’

What made the situation even more unbelievable was the fact that in spite of him always telling me how much he loved me, I was sure he was cheating on me. Maybe Sandy had made me paranoid, but I was convinced about it. He had so many female friends, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t take his pick. And I’d seen messages on his phone from other girls, but he’d dismissed them as just girls who liked him, even though he’d told them to back off. Then he’d gotten mad at me for going through his phone, even though I always caught him going through mine. The only reason I tried to believe him was because I never saw anything in his sentbox.

But to cap it all off, Carl didn’t wash. Okay, he did, but only like twice a week! I found this quite shocking when I first found out, because I thought everybody had a shower every morning and maybe a bath in the night too, like me, but Carl actually thought that such attention to personal hygiene was ridiculous. The first time I’d freaked out about it, he’d doused himself with half a can of Lynx and ignored me. And that’s what he did every morning. He was going through deodorant like my mom went through Aloe Vera lipgloss.

He was out with his boys tonight, so I was home alone. I switched the bedroom light off and switched on the lamp, the dim light casting eerie shadows everywhere. I hated the thought that Carl might be cheating on me. It really hurt. I hoped against hope that he wasn’t, but Sandy’s words had been like a seed. They had taken root in my heart.

Apart from all this, I also had my dad on my mind again. His second anniversary was coming up, and as much as I tried not to think about it, I couldn’t help myself. Since his death, I’d blamed all my misery and loneliness on that, but I was beginning to wonder if maybe I had deeper issues. Lots of people had lost someone. Did they all feel the way I did?

The only word I could use to describe how I felt sometimes was despair. I felt like everything was pointless. Life itself was an endless stream of pointless activity.

I had gotten to the point where I felt so hopeless that I admitted I needed some kind of help. I knew I wasn’t going to get it from my mom, and I definitely wasn’t going to get it from Carl.

I got up and found the business directory and looked up Dr. Paula’s number.

***

“So what’s wrong, Lexi?” Dr. Paula asked, still as expressionless and annoying as she had been the first time I’d come with Monica, Michelle, and Sandy. I wished I hadn’t come. I wasn’t crazy. Psychotherapists were for crazy people.

“Um, I think I made a mistake coming here. It’s okay. I’ll still pay and everything, but I want to cancel.”

“Why?”

“Well, I guess I really don’t need to talk to someone about my problems. I have issues, but I’m not that crazy.”

“You don’t have to be crazy to talk to me about your problems. I can help you sort out your feelings and identify the reason you feel depressed.”

“Who said I was depressed? I never said that.”

“The quiz you filled out online suggests that you are, and I can just see all the tension in your posture. Just take a deep breath, and let it out slowly, then talk.”

“Hey, don’t talk to me like I’m crazy,” I snapped.

Dr. Paula reached for my hand and held it. I realized I was shaking. I told myself that I really needed to calm down.

“Is this anything to do with your father?”

“How do you know?”

“You mentioned him the last time you were here.”

“Oh, I guess you kept a record of that.”

“I did.”

I decided to tell her about Carl rather than about my dad, and she let go of my hand and made notes. “What do you really want from him?” she asked when I finished.

I looked at her through my tears, and she passed me a tissue. “He always says he loves me, but I don’t know if he really does. I think I just want to feel like I matter to someone.”

“Tell me about the worst thing that has ever happened to you,” Dr. Paula said.

Reluctantly, I told her about my dad. Briefly and without any of the painful details.

“I see the issue here,” Dr. Paula said when I finished. “Your father made you feel secure and loved. Now that he’s not there anymore you want to replace him. Your mom doesn’t seem able to give you the security you want, so you’re hoping to get it from Carl; and you’re scared in case you lose him too.”

I wasn’t actually as scared of losing Carl as she made it sound, but it all made sense.

“Carl can never be what your father was to you. You need closure. No relationship is ever going to be able to replace what you had with your father.”

Dr. Paula gave me a prescription before I left. As I walked to my car I tossed it into a garbage can. I wasn’t going to any drugstore to ask for those drugs and let everyone think I was a psycho. In fact, I couldn’t even believe I had just visited a therapist! What on earth was I doing?

I went back to Marigold. Unfortunately, Carl was in. I wiped my eyes so that he wouldn’t be able to tell that I’d been crying.

“Have you been crying?” he asked from the couch as I walked through the den to the bedroom.

“No.”

He followed me to the bedroom. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I snapped.

“Well, Lexi, you haven’t seemed very happy lately, and I just want to know why so that I can help.”

“If you really want to know, I’m upset about my dad. His second anniversary is coming up.”

“Oh.” Carl hugged me. “I’m sorry about that. Is there anything I can do?”

“Not really.” My stomach heaved, and I held my breath as I felt light-headed and giddy. I held onto Carl for support.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.” My stomach heaved again, and I pushed him out of my way and ran to the bathroom, locking it behind me. I really thought I was going to throw up, but I didn’t. After a few minutes, I splashed cold water on my face and opened the door.

Carl was standing outside. “Did you throw up?” he asked.

“No,” I said sheepishly. “I’m going to bed.” I went to the bedroom feeling like a drama queen.

Over the next few days, I stayed indoors. I felt like I didn’t have enough energy to do anything. I was overwhelmingly tired and lethargic and hardly attended any classes at all. My stomach kept heaving too, making me think I was going to be sick, but I never was.

On my dad’s anniversary, I stayed in bed all day. Carl returned home from his class late. He was holding a bunch of flowers and a card.

“Why are you late?” I asked.

“I went to get you these flowers.” He put them on the table and gave me the card.

I read it and handed it back to him. “Thanks.”

Carl placed a hand on my forehead. “Your skin’s clammy. I think you should see a doctor before I catch whatever you’ve got.”

My illness wasn’t physical. It was emotional. I shouldn’t have thrown away Dr. Paula’s prescription.

The next day, Carl returned from his morning class at lunchtime and asked if I’d booked to see a doctor.

“No, I don’t need to see a doctor.”

He removed a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “I’ve booked you in to see the campus nurse at two thirty. Make sure you go.”

I took the slip of paper, and he left again. He had another class in half an hour.”

At two fifteen, I made my way across campus for my appointment. As I sat in the waiting room, I pondered the fact that everyone else was with someone. I should have made Carl come with me.

When my name was called, I went in to see the nurse. She asked me about my symptoms, and I told her I just felt weak and tired. Now I felt silly for coming. I knew nothing was wrong with me. I was about to tell her about how I kept feeling like I was going to throw up, and I realized how ridiculous it would sound. “I’ve been throwing up too,” I said. It was a slight exaggeration, but it made my case less laughable.

After she carried out a series of routine checks and found everything to be more or less normal, she opened a draw and took out a small box.

“Have you taken a pregnancy test?” She asked

I was taken aback. “No.”

“Well, here you go. Follow the instructions. There’s a bathroom down the corridor to your left.”

I wanted to argue, but I just took the box and found the bathroom. I followed the instructions and waited for the results. I couldn’t be pregnant. I took my pill religiously.

After the specified two minutes, I checked the strip and almost passed out. There were two pink lines. I read the instructions again. Two pink lines meant pregnant. One pink line meant not pregnant.

I couldn’t be pregnant. The test had to be wrong. It just wasn’t possible because I was always so careful.

I went back to the nurse, and she smiled when she saw the strip. “Congratulations,” she said.

“Actually, I think the test might be faulty.”

“I doubt it. They have a 97% accuracy.”

“Yeah, well maybe I’m part of the 3%,” I retorted.

The nurse took a few leaflets from a rack on the wall and handed them to me. “You go home and do another test if you want. If you find that you actually are pregnant, the university will do everything to support you. You should still be able to complete your studies.”

I pocketed the leaflets, my head reeling. This was so not happening to me. I caught a cab to the mall and bought three of the most expensive pregnancy tests I could find. A cheap test could be faulty.

When I got back to Carl’s room I took all three tests one after the other. They were all positive. I was really pregnant. I couldn’t believe it!

What was I going to do? My mom would probably pass out if she found out, and my grandmother would kill me. I had no idea what Carl would do, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t want it.

I left the bathroom in a daze and went to switch on Carl’s laptop. I Googled abortion clinics. It was the only way.

I found a website and read all about the abortion procedure and what I should expect. The procedure I read about was supposed to be at least seven times safer than childbirth and only took five minutes. I exhaled nervously. That didn’t sound too bad. I wrote down the contact number.

I paced the room as I dialed the clinic. My hands were shaking as the reality of what I was doing dawned on me.

The woman who answered the phone was trying to get all sorts of information from me. What I wanted to know was whether I could have the abortion today. If not, I would call elsewhere.

“Can you just confirm your full name and address, and then I’ll need to ask you a few quick questions about your health insurance,” the woman repeated after I told her I wanted to know if there were any appointments left for today.

“Before we go into all that, would I be able to have the procedure done today?” I demanded.

There was a pause. “I’m afraid you won’t”

I hung up and called a few other clinics, demanding an immediate appointment. The answer was the same.

I slammed the phone down and wrote down the address of the first place I’d called. Then I took Carl’s car keys and made my way to the clinic.

“I need to see the doctor.” I told the receptionist. “Now.”

“None of them are free at the moment—”

“I need to see a doctor.”

“If you would just calm down, honey—”

“Listen, I want an appointment now. I need to speak to somebody with more authority than you have. I will pay however much it will take. Go and tell the doctors that.”