Paint It Black

I shifted nervously in my seat, chewing at my nails. Butcher slapped my hands away from my mouth a few times, expressing that it was "disgusting". I dropped my hands and drummed my fingers in my knees.

"I hate this place," I told Butcher, "I feel sick."

He shook his head, "It'll all be over soon."

My phobia of hospitals, exam rooms, and doctors ate at me while I waited. It was like running back in time and reliving all that I had lost. It pained me, it sickened me, it made me want to cry.

"Sunny Romero," the nursed called me.

I shot up like a bullet, tugging Butcher with me. He exasperated and followed. He was frustrated that I was in such a hurry; he just didn't understand.

The petite nurse, with bright red hair and a mess of freckles, took my weight and height; I gained 7 pounds and I was still a short shit. I was in for a regular check up, but asked for a sure-fire pregnancy test. 

I sat in the exam table, kicking my legs and waiting for Dr. Richards, with whom I had known for the past two years. He is my regular physician and helped me through my miscarriage, and advised that I go to group meetings. I didn't go.

"How are you, Sunny?" Dr. Richards walked in, smiling.

"I'm sick to the gills," I explained, "I think I might be pregnant, or sick."

Dr. Richards chuckled, "Ok, we'll take some blood and urine, and we'll run some test. Let's just go through the regular routine questions and check up, shall we?" 
 
They took my blood, got my urine, and we were able to leave. I sat in the passenger seat and pulled my knees up to my chest, and rested my head in them. Butcher got in the driver seat and looked over at me, sighing softly.

"Are you hungry? We could get milkshakes," he was trying his hardest to make me feel better.

"I'm gonna be sick, take me home," I murmured.

"You haven't eaten today, you should," I looked at him.

"Milkshake sounds good," I slumped my shoulders, "some greasy fries, too."

Butcher smiled, "Good."
-

My results wouldn't be in until the next day, and the waiting was unbearable. The only thing that soothe me was painting, and talking to Frank.

I laid out my bed, holding my stomach, talking nonsense with him. He was talking about some foreign film, while I listened to him. We talked about books next, which were out favorites and ones that grossed us out. We both agreed on Pygmy as the grossest.

I think talking to him calmed me the most, he was the equivalent to a cigarette for me. Everything he said made me feel a million times better.

The next morning, I spoke to him on my way to the doctors office. Butcher drove, while Frank tried to comfort me; it was working a little. 

We hung up when the nursed called me back. Butcher came with me, his arm hung loosely around my shoulder.

I bit my lip and coursed and tugged my hair several times. I felt sick again, but kept the acid at bay for as long as I could.

I almost spewed when Dr. Richards walked in; "Whoa, are you alright?" he asked as I sat on the exam table.

I shook my head, "I feel sick."

"Do you need to use the restroom?"

I hurriedly left the room and ran into the bathroom by the room. I went to the first stall, lifted the seat, and let go. My entire body shook with goosebumps and my head pounded. I stood slowly, my knees shaking, and wiped my mouth with the back of my palm. I flushed the toilet and went to the sink, rinsing my mouth and washing my hands. I exited the bathroom, and walked back into the room.

"All better?" Butcher asked.

I nodded, "My head hurts."

Dr. Richards came over to me, and helped me sit on the chair beside Butcher. Butcher put an arm around  my shoulder again, and Dr. Richards leaned against the exam table.

"Well, Sunny, we got your results back," he hummed softly, "I don't know how you'll take this."

I rolled my fingers, effortlessly, in the air, "Just spit it out."

He nodded, turning his lips down, "You are pregnant...about 5 to 6 weeks." I dropped my head, and felt Butcher rub my back. I groaned loudly and looked back up, "I would like for you to take your prenatal vitamins, see us and your OBGYN regularly, and...is your mom still a nurse?"

I nodded, "Yes."

"I would like for her to take care of you for--"

I cut him off, "Can I travel? I have a job..." I trailed softly, looking at Butcher.

"I advise for you to stay home and avoid stress at all cost. Traveling is out of the question."

I sighed, coursing my hair again, "Shit."

"I'll leave so you two can talk, remember to make an appointment."

I hung my head, not bothering to see Dr. Richards walk out. I placed my palms to my face and stared at the linoleum floor.

Butcher ran his hand up and down my back, "It's all going to be okay, Sunny, remember?" 

I let out another soft sigh, "I hate this."

"Everything will be okay."

I shook my head, dropping my hands and standing, "I have to tell my mom, she has to take care of me while you're gone...then I have to tell Frank, I don't think he'll be upset."
-

When we got home, the first person I had to call was my mom. I was more sick with the thought, rather than the pregnancy. I didn't know if she would be happy, or completely hate me for what I've done.

"You don't have to tell her right away," Butcher told me, "maybe you should tell Frank first."

I shook my head, "She should know first, before he tells everyone."

"Want me to go?" 

I sighed, "Yeah...I think it might get ugly."

Butcher gave me a swift hug and left the room. I shifted on the couch and picked up my phone; my palms were so sweaty. I quickly dialed her number and placed the phone to my ear. I swallowed hard as it rang.

She picked up on the third ring; "Sunny?"

"Yeah," I sighed heavily, "it's me."

"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"Nothing...actually...I don't know," I kneeled my elbow on my knee, placing my chin on my right palm, "I have something to tell you."

She was silent for a moment, "Oh...oh!" she gasped, "You're pregnant aren't you?"

I sighed, looking down, "Yeah, I am."

"That's...soon," she chuckled softly, "I didn't expect it to be so soon."

"Me either."

"Did you go to the doctor, or do the home test?"

"I went to the doctor," I started, "he said that I should take it easy, so I'm not going with the guys, and he told me that I should have you take care of me."

I heard a little squeal, "Really?"

I chuckled, "Yes."

"Oh, I can't wait, when should I come?"

"How about near the end of July? That's when the guys leave for tour."

"I'm so excited! I can't wait."

I giggled at my mom's excitement, "Calm down mom."

"Did you call Frank?"

I sighed, again, "I'm going to."