The Embrace by Vivian Wood

24

Isit in the cramped little waiting room of the dance company’s staff physician. It's just a windowless space, tucked between the long echoing halls of the New York Ballet on one side and the doctor’s office on the other side. I sit opposite an empty chair, elbows on my knees, waiting. I want badly to bite my fingernails but I don't. I left that bad habit in childhood.

Instead I nibble on my bottom lip. I take a deep breath and try not to think of all the ways that this appointment could go completely sideways.

I could be pregnant. Really, with my job as a ballerina and my boyfriend who isn't at all interested in having kids, that's the worst case scenario. I would have to make a choice there. My career, my relationship, or a clump of cells which will one day become a baby.

And yet, I'm tortured even now just thinking about it.

I lean my head down and press my knuckles into my eyes.

I almost hope that it turns out that something else is wrong with me. It's funny to think that I would rather have a syndrome or a disorder. But if it came down to that or making a choice between a baby, my work, and my life…

The door to the doctor's office opens and Dr. Partridge steps out. He's a tall, stork -like man with a long track record of keeping ballerinas and dancers healthy. He frowns down at a chart, calling my name.

“Kaia?”

I shoot to my feet and smile nervously. “Right here.”

He glances up at me, takes a few seconds to take in my outfit of an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, and then he steps back.

He waves me in with the hand. “This way, please.”

It's not the first time I've dealt with the dance company’s doctor. The NYB is very careful and thorough about the health of their dancers. I've seen the doctor twice already for minor injuries and I've only been here for a few months.

I hoist my dance duffel bag on my shoulder and shuffle through the door. The office is neatly divided into two parts. One side is a desk with a computer and two chairs facing it. On the other side of the office is an examination table. He points me to the examination table and I head that way, my heart beating loudly in my chest.

“If you please,” he says. He leaves through the information in my chart. “Put your bag down and sit on the table for me please.”

I lay my bag down and hop up on the crinkly white paper that covers the table. It's a little higher than a chair would be. My feet dangle off the floor and I shiver a little bit.

He doesn't even look up at me right away. “Are you here for another steroid shot for your shoulder? I know it's been a while since your last one…”

“No.” I bite my lower lip. “I’ve been gaining weight pretty steadily for the last three weeks or a month. And I was talking to a friend who suggested that I come here and talk to you. Just to make sure that I'm healthy, you know.”

Dr. Partridge squints up at me for a long second. Then he puts the chart aside and nods.

“Okay. That's good idea. Why don't we start by drawing some blood and getting a urine sample from you? Then we can go through some questions that I have.”

He is already turning away and walking over to a spare medical cabinet, where he draws out several tubes and a butterfly needle for drawing blood.

I breathe out and look away as he sticks me. As he is drawing the blood, he asks me a million questions.

When was my last period?

Did I change my diet recently?

Have I been tired?

Have I noticed any changes, especially in my urine or stool?

No. I haven't noticed any of those things. Just the weight gain. Almost 5 pounds this month.

His face creases as he looks at me. “ Five pounds is really not that much. Even on a dancer that’s as slight as you… But you are already here, so let's just check it out.”

He presses a small plastic cup into my hand and asked me to step out into the hallway and go to the restroom. I return and he asks me to wait for the lab results, which should only take a few more minutes. I agree of course and he offers to let me wait in his office.

“I actually need to check a couple of text messages, if that's okay. I would rather step into the other room in case I need to make a phone call.”

Dr. Partridge nods. “Of course. I'll call you in when I have your test results. I don't worry, whatever the situation is, we'll get you sorted out.”

I can't even pretend to smile at his assurance. Making my way out into his stuffy little waiting room, I do check my phone. But the text messages I mentioned to the doctor were just a front; I don't have anything to work on, I just didn't want to wait in the room with the doctor.

Having to spend the time alone is something I haven't fully contended with, though. It gives me time to work myself up into a froth over the future of my ballet career. Add in the fact that things are just now starting to go really well between myself and Calum and you have got a recipe for disaster.

Now I understand quite exactly what Honor faced when her choreographer didn't want her child.

Is it enough that I would try to blackmail Calum and cause a ton of trouble? Maybe not. But maybe if I did intend to keep the baby…

Especially Calum's baby…

I can feel myself begin to sweat just thinking about that. I don't have many opinions on abortion, of course. I wasn't raised with religion in my house. My dad was the final arbitrator of every argument and having a God above him wouldn't have really suited his purposes.

But the prospects of facing my own abortion, even a very early one that didn't require surgery… that is really off-putting.

Not to mention the fact that while I didn't feel that abortion was wrong, I had to question the fact that I would be could into that position. I believe that plenty of women have controlled their reproductive rights in any way they saw fit. But for me, having the baby of a billionaire wasn't quite like having no choices.

Or was it? I didn't know.

A painstaking twenty minutes passes. I feel time passing so slowly that it’s agony. By the time he opens the door again, I am practically sick with the need to know the results of my lab work.

Dr. Partridge opens the door and beckons me in. “Come in, Kaia. Come sit back on the examination table, if you will.”

I do as I'm told, nearly lightheaded with worry. The doctor clears his throat as I sit down.

“I just got your blood tests back. And it does appear as though you are pregnant. You're also quite anemic, but I feel like that's the less important of the two diagnoses.”

I dropped my face into my hands, my heart pounding in my ears. I can't think of the right thing to say so I don't say anything at all.

All I can think about is the look of deep disappointment on Calum’s face if I were to tell him that I got pregnant.

I mean, that would be the end of us as a couple. He's made that perfectly clear.

I feel vaguely sick inside.

Dr. Partridge is quiet for a moment. “You said you are on birth control.”

I nod, too stunned to speak.

“You have to stop taking that right now. Even if you choose not to go forward with the pregnancy, I advise you to take a break from taking the pill. Oh, and use condoms as your method of backup birth control. Okay?”

I nod.

His face crinkles. “Is this a surprise? Or have you been trying to get pregnant?”

I suck in a breath and lift my head out of my hands. Tucking a strand of my hair back behind my ear, I slowly speak. “It was unplanned.”

“All right.” For his part, Dr. Partridge does have a killer poker face. He just keeps asking questions, not attaching any particular feeling to any answer he receives.

Then again, I have a feeling that this is far from his first patient with a surprise pregnancy. It's got to have happened before at the ballet.

“Well, you have a few options. You can keep the pregnancy. You can terminate the pregnancy as long as it is before the four month mark. Or you can think about it.” He refers to my chart. “It says here that the last period you remember having was almost two months ago.”

I nod. “Yeah, that seems right. But you know dancers… we don’t always have regular periods.”

He nods and makes a note in my chart.

I'm still in shock, still trying to figure out how I let this happen. “I took every pill exactly the way that you're supposed to. I set alarms on my phone for God's sake. I did everything right.”

Dr. Partridge gives me a careful smile. “Birth control is never one hundred percent effective. Unplanned pregnancies happen to a lot of women. It isn’t a big deal unless you want it to be. Okay?”

My eyes widen. Everything he’s saying seems like he is just telling me what I want to hear. Still, I nod. “Okay. Thanks, Dr. Partridge.”

“I’m going to give you a few pamphlets about your various choices and then we should go through them together. I want to make sure that you feel empowered to make your decision.”

Funny, I have never felt quite as powerless as I do right now. My eyes well up and my voice breaks. “Okay.”

Dr. Partridge frowns a little and gives me a tentative smile. “It's going to be okay.”

I wipe at my eyes, nodding. “Do you think that I could come back and see you tomorrow? You’ve just given me a lot to think about right now.”

The doctor sighs and crosses his arms. “As long as we are very clear about the fact that you don't want to be taking any more birth-control pills. And you should take an iron supplement and a multivitamin. Just for your general health, not for anything specifically pregnancy related.”

He pulls out his prescription pad and scribbles on it, tearing off the page and handing it over.

I push myself to my feet, grabbing my bag as I take the script. “I will take them, Dr. Partridge. I promise.”

The doctor looks at his watch. “Same time tomorrow?” he asks.

My eyes are brimming with tears. I try to control the quaver in my voice. “That sounds good. Thank you.”

I walk quickly out of Dr. Partridge's office and practically run out of the building, trying not to cry.