The End of Everything

AELLA POV:

“Aella Reed we’re ready for you,” said a quiet and quant nurse. I got up from my uncomfortable plastic seat and put the month old magazine back on the wobbly table next to the chair before following her.

The door shut with a quiet click. She turned and smiled at me widely making long crows feet show up beside her eyes and parenthesis lines form by her mouth. Her shoes clacked as I followed her to room 3.

“Please sit down,” she said gesturing to a paper-covered chair. Her voice was soothing and motherly. She gave another smile to me before turning and grabbing the blood pressure wrap and pump that rested on the wall.

I felt the familiar pressure as she inflated it with air around my right arm and the chill as she rested her stethoscope on my inner elbow. She scribbled down a few notes then nodded at me.

“You have a low blood pressure, which can happen with the first weeks of pregnancy, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Oh, I’ve had it for a few years. I always run colder than most people.”

The nurse nodded and wrote down something else before pressing her cold metal circle into my back and ordering me to breath as she moved it around. Next she grabbed the thermometer and stuck it under my tongue. I sat there for a few seconds before it beeped and she withdrew it. Again she scribbled down in her form.

“The doctor will be here in a moment.” There was a tap as she placed a small plastic cup on the laminate counter that I was expected to pee in while she was gone. She fixed her soft green papery shirt and walked out of the examination room leaving me alone.

I stood up and grabbed the cup. Across the hall from me was the bathroom so I pushed open the door and waltzed across the narrow hall shutting the door behind me. I tried to lock it, but it was broken so as I sat down to pee on foot was firmly pressed on the door.

When I was finished I walked back into the room to see the doctor sitting in his wheelie chair by the counter. I smiled and put the cup next to him. He smiled back and pointed to the paper-covered chair. It crinkled loudly as I sat down.

“Hello and congratulations! I’m doctor Whitman. This is your 11-week check up right? What do you want to get done today?”

“I just want to check in on the baby and do all the tests I can.”

“Sounds good! You can see your baby today if you’d like to also, but I’ll start you off with a blood test.”

He tied the plastic strap around my upper left arm and I soon felt the pinch of a needle go into my arm. I did my best to not look down at the tubes filling with my blood. Dr. Whitman tried to make conversation about my baby and the weather, but I kept my lips firmly closed.

After what seemed like forever, but was probably ten minutes the pinch went away and the pressure I had grown used to in my upper arm was relieved. I shook out my arm and felt the wave of heat and blackness coming over my body I always had after a blood test.

He rolled over to the sink and filled a glass of water for me to drink to help with the recovery.

“Now, have you drank any alcohol or used any drugs recently?”—I shook my head and he nodded at me gladly—“you don’t want to know how many people can’t say that. Anyways will we be seeing the baby today?”

I thought about it for a second, but I wanted Derek to be there when I saw it for the first time. I shook my head at the doctor and he seemed a bit surprised at first, but he shrugged it off.

“There are some tests that we can run for you that we don’t normally run because of your history.” I swallowed nervously and felt my palms become clammy.

“That can be passed down?”

“There is a chance it can be inherited by the child.”

I felt the heat pour over me again and black spots started to liter my eyes. My hands tightened on the paper beneath me and I tried to clear my head.

“Please do the test. I can’t have a baby with that.” The doctor nodded and left the room taking my blood and urine with him. I sat on the chair for a few more minutes before finally getting my heart to stop racing and left the office.

I sighed and started by three-block walk back to my apartment.

•~•~•

It had been three days since I had my check up. Derek was at practice and wouldn’t be back for two hours. My cell phone started to ring and it was some unknown number. I slid the answer key across the screen and there was a second of silence.

“Hello, Miss. Reed? This is Dr. Whitman. The results of your tests are back.”

“And?”

“And I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re blood tested to have human chorionic gonadotrophin or hCG and pregnancy-associated plasma protein or PAPP-A in high quantities, which makes your baby positive for Down syndrome. I'm sorry."

I hung up quickly and felt tears fall down my cheeks. My heart plummeted. I didn’t tell Derek about the chances our baby had for getting Down syndrome.

I couldn’t go through that again. My aunt had Down syndrome. My mother and I helped take care of her until she died of heart failure at 36. She was one of the sweetest women I had ever met, but I couldn’t watch my baby slowly die the way she did.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t keep the baby anymore.

I unlocked my phone and opened to the dial pad. My fingers flew across the numbers as I typed in Derek’s cell phone number. After a few rings Torts sharp voice answered, “Hello.”

I coughed and hiccupped on a sob, “John, I need to talk to Derek now. Please.” I heard a shuffling then in the distance a loud yell there was more shuffling then Derek’s voice was in my ear.

“Aella?” I started to cry even harder and struggled to contain my sobs to respond to him. “A, what’s wrong? What happened? Is it-?”

“Derek I need you here now, please. I need to tell you something. I need you.” There was shuffling then some mumbling between Derek and John.

“I’ll be there in twenty. What ever it is it’s fine. I love you.”