You Drain The Life From Me.

"Leigh O'Callaghan? The doctor's ready to see you now."

I looked to John for encouragement. He nodded and whispered, "I'll be right here when you come out. I promise."

My feet somehow were able to get up and follow the nurse into a doctor's office. I was told to sit on the bench/bed thing and she sat in a chair across from me.

"So why are you here today?" she asked cheerily.

"I...I think...I took this pregnancy test about two days ago. It had the little pink plus sign on it."

If the nurse was shocked, she hid it well. Her face remained cheery. She didn't say anything other than, "When was the last time you had your period?"

I shifted around nervously. "Um, last month, on the third."

"Oh dear, you've missed it this month, haven't you? Have you been feeling any symptoms of pregnancy?"

I shook my head. I didn't feel any moodier or hungrier than usual. I actually didn't know what most of the symptoms of pregnancy were.

"I feel normal. I mean, I haven't been feeling or doing anything out of the ordinary."

"Okay, well, I'll go get the doctor and she'll either take you to get an ultrasound or a urine test, just to make sure there's actually a bun in the oven. Hang in there, Leigh."

If I was anyone else, I would have laughed at the expression she used to describe pregnancy. Bun in the oven? Haha!

She smiled softly at me and left the room. I started to hum the tune to Daisy to calm my nerves. Pretty soon, I was singing, "All for, all for, all for you my daisy," under my breath to help pass the time.

Suddenly, the door opened and Dr. Clarke walked in, holding a small laptop. "Leigh O'Callaghan! What are we here for? Shots? Aren't you a little too old for shots?"

I shook my head in shame. I had known Dr. Clarke since I was a baby. My family had been going to the same pediatrician for about twenty years now, since John was born. Dr. Clark was a family friend.

"Um, I actually..."

"You here for a physical?" she tried.

"No, I think I'm pregnant."

She stopped tapping her foot and she sat down on the chair. "You're joking."

I shook my head once more as my eyes started to water. "Please tell me you're joking. I thought you were smarter than that, Leigh," she mumbled as she typed something into her computer.

The guilt card, again? Really, people?

"No. I guess not."

She clucked her tongue like mothers do and patted my knee. I guess, in a sense, she was like my second mother. Well, no. She was my third. My second was Mrs. Nickelsen.

"Well, who's the father?"

I was hesitant to tell her that I didn't know. She would come to the conclusion that I was a raging slut that had a new fuck every night and never knew when enough was enough, which was what got me here.

But maybe she would understand that I wasn't a slut. I was confused and troubled. And drunk. But maybe I would leave that part out.

"I don't know."

She raised her eyebrows and frowned in disappointment.

"No, it's not like I've jumped the bones of every guy within a twenty mile radius of here. It's just...I did it with two different guys in a short span of time and I was hurt, confused, and angry."

"Would you care tell me who the father could be?"

"It's um, it's either Stephen Gomez or Garrett Nickelsen."

She new Garrett because when I was younger, I had to get my shots, of course. And I would cry. I hated getting shots; what child didn't? I would occasionally kick and scream on bad days. So to calm me down when John couldn't, Garrett was brought in to work his so-called magic.

When he came in, he would distract me in a way almost no one could. We would talk about Star Wars and dinosaurs and all kinds of random stuff and I wouldn't even notice the needle going in my arm. I would only turn around when I felt the band-aid being stuck on my arm. Then, when I was done, Garrett and I would get a Jolly Rancher and our choice of either a sticker or some kind of toy, like yo-yos or small plastic action figures.

They called Garrett the miracle child.

I refused to believe that. He was just my best friend, plain and simple.

"Your best friend?"

I nodded. "He was my boyfriend. But something happened. We broke up and I met Stephen, then bam! But then one night, Stephen wasn't around, and Garrett explained about the thing that happened and boom!"

She sighed with disappointment and said, "Come on, let's get you an ultrasound."



"There's definitely a baby in there, all right."

I gasped.

"Now, Leigh. You understand we can't find out who the father is until the baby is born, right?"

I nodded.

"Okay. The next thing we have to do is notify your parents, because I'm guessing they have no clue that you're even sexually active."

I groaned and nodded, sitting up and cleaning the gel off of my stomach, pulling my shirt down.

I couldn't believe I was truly pregnant. I felt so stupid for getting myself into this mess. How could I tell Stephen? Would I even tell him that I had sex with Garrett?

How could I do that? And what if it was Garrett's? How would I tell my parents all of this? How would I be able to handle taking care of another growing human inside of me?

She sent me off, back to the waiting room where John was sitting, typing something on his ever present iPhone. They were most likely lyrics or some cryptic message that anyone rarely ever decoded.

He looked up, worried. "You okay? You look pretty bummed out."

"I'm pregnant, John," I whispered.

He stood and immediately wrapped his arms around me. I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. I had messed up. Now I was in some pretty deep shit.

"It's okay, baby sister. I'm here for you. Always," John mumbled while rubbing my back, trying to calm me down.



In the car, John and I listened to Wilco. "Where are we going?"

"No where, baby sis. Everywhere. Somewhere. I don't know. I just wanna drive and clear my head. Don't you?"

It was actually a pretty good idea. He rolled down the windows and I changed the CD to Man On The Moon: End of Day by Kid Cudi and changed it to Up, Up and Away.

John smiled and turned up the volume. We sang, "Now when the sun come up, I'll be there to say what up in the morning," in unison.

"Dammit, John, I hate singing with you because your voice sounds so much better than mine!"

"Damn right, kiddo. I have the best voice in the O'Callaghan family. You'll never be as good as me."

I signaled for him to shut up. He grinned once more and we yelled into the world, "I'll be up, up and away! Up, up and away! Cause they gon' judge me anyway, so whatever! I'll be up, up and away, up, up and away, cause in the end they'll judge me anyway, so whatever!"

Thank God for Kid Cudi.