From Under the Cork Tree

The doctor, Dr. Evans, read over my vitals and asked me to explain what was wrong. I did and waited for him to give me some kind of answer. He had hummed, tweaking his lips at me, "Your last period was 3 weeks ago?"

I nodded, "Yeah."

"Okay. Lie back, let me check your abdomen for any abnormal activity."

I laid back on the exam table, lifted my shirt and then let Dr. Evans pressed his fingers against my hips, "Does that hurt?

"No," I answered.

He moved down to my navel, then just above the button and fly of my jeans. When he pressed there, I felt a wave of nausea.

"That hurts," I spat out.

"How so?"

"It feels heavy and it's nauseating."

Dr. Evans stopped touching me, then helped me sit up. He looked over my medical chart, humming to himself. I looked at John with a cocked eyebrow, he had shrugged -we could communicate with each other without saying a word.

"It says here you were tested when you were 15 for pelvic issues," he kept his eyes on my file, "your cervical canal is too narrow."

"Yeah," I said, "I'm infertile."

He looked up at me, "Okay. I think maybe this is just another bump in the road. We'll take some blood and urine, then determine what is causing the nausea and the muscles in your intestines to constrict."

"So," John joined, "Angelus will be okay?"

"So far, yes. She's healthy, she's at an ideal weight; but we won't know anything for sure until after we run our tests."

"How long will that take?" I asked.

Dr. Evans looked back at me, "Not long, a day or so. You should relax in the mean time, Angelus. Get a heating pad and laze around, it'll help with the pains."

"Thank you," I smiled faintly.

He hummed, nodding his head, "You're welcome. I'll have Nurse Jenny come in and take your blood and set you up with a urine test."

Dr. Evans left us alone in the room then; I exhaled deeply, "It's nothing serious," I said.

John came over and sat on the edge beside me, "I'm glad. I have wicked powers to make you all weird inside."

I smiled again, "That's because I'm madly in love with you, butthead."

John turned his head and kissed the corner of my mouth. His arm wrapped around my waist, his hand ran up and down my side. I felt content and not so sad; I tried to tell myself that John wouldn't be gone forever, even though it would feel like it.

I reminded myself that the tour stopped in LA for two shows and I would see him.

It was making me feel better.


After we left the clinic, I sat anxiously in the car, smoking a cigarette like it was a life line. I don't know where the anxiety came from, but I was suddenly thrown into a big jumble of worry and nerves. John had noticed and gone to the liquor store, bought me some Marlboros and lit one for me.

John doesn't smoke, he'd always try to help me quit, but it was useless. I started smoking when I was 17, and I developed a habit, thanks to an ex. I didn't smoke every single day, only when I felt like the day was getting to me.

"What's wrong?" John asked as we continued to sit in silence.

"I don't know. I feel anxious," I muttered, "maybe I'm hungry."

"There's a lot of maybes going on here," he replied. "Are you scared something might be wrong with you?"

I shook my head, and then flicked the butt of my cigarette to rid the tip of ash, "No."

"There has to be a reason you're worried," he said, "I don't understand."

"Neither do I!" I exclaimed, my eyes adverted over to him as I tossed my cigarette out the window. "I don't know why I'm scared and shaking. My body seems to know something I don't, Beatz!"

The air was suddenly thick; I was sorry about my outburst, but I was annoyed and sick. I didn't have an answer to why I was this way. John didn't know, he was worried about me when he didn't need to be.

"I just want to help," he murmured a few seconds later.

"I know you do, and I appreciate it," I took his hand in mine, "I don't know what this is, I probably have like a flu."

He squeezed my hand, "I hope so...I don't want you to worry or be sick anymore."

"Don't worry about me," I muttered.

"No fair," he squeezed my hand, "you get to worry about me, but I can't worry about you?"

John finally made me to smile; the knots loosened and I felt a lot better. It was nice knowing that he didn't just say "ok," he actually rebutted and wouldn't stop. I really did have a keeper.

"I love you," I leaned my head on his shoulder. "And I'm sorry I'm such a freak and such a nervous wreck."

"Don't be sorry, I love those things about you, even if they scare me," he then kissed the top of my head.

I sighed contently, "You are the best man."

John just chuckled softly and sat in silence with me. We didn't leave for a long time, not until it was near dark out. We then went to eat and then back home, where my parents were watching over Cupid. They didn't question us, only said goodnight before we headed upstairs. Cupid shuffled in, while John and I went to the bedroom, pulling each other's clothes off and sunk beneath the blankets.

In the morning, around 5AM, I woke up to John talking on the phone. I didn't connect the words, not until I sat up and he looked over at me. I caught a bit, "...Friday is okay...yeah, thank you."

"Who was that?" I asked once he hung up.

"The airline," he said as he placed his phone on the bedside drawer. "I changed my flight."

"How come? Your family should see you!"

John shook his head, "Nah, I called my mom, she said it was okay."

"You sure?" I questioned shortly.

He nodded and rolled over in bed, pulling me back to lie down. He wrapped his arms around me, "I'm not gonna leave without knowing if you're okay."

"I am okay," I looked back at him, "you should cut time with your family on my account."

"They know how much you mean to me," he said, "plus, they've got to have me my whole life, they won't miss a few days without me."

"I don't want to make them mad."

"They won't be," he kissed the underside of my jaw, his stubble rubbed against my cheek, "dad said one less burger and steak to grill."

I smiled, "Sweet, I get my lover boy for another 3 days."

He hummed, his hand rubbing against my bare stomach, "Yep, and we don't have to do anything for awhile."

I grinned, "Good."

John and I laid in bed until noon when Dr. Evans called, saying he needed to see me immediately. His short tone frightened me, but I tried not to show it, and I tried to keep my panic stricken behavior low key. John saw right through it.

He made me tell him, and I told him what Dr. Evans said. The color had drain from his face and he pulled me into his arms. Honestly, I was panicked but I wasn't sure exactly why; was it my results or the mysterious anxiety I felt?

I didn't have to wait long; we headed down to the clinic, making sure not to tell anyone anything until we knew what was wrong. My stomach was okay, but my mind had raced and I was wondering if I was gonna die, or something. John held my hand while we waited in the lobby, and then in the examination room. My leg shook the entire time, but my stomach did not knot like I had expected it to. I couldn't understand my body at the moment, I felt like I was going through puberty again, having my body grown and form in ways I didn't know anything about.

John and I didn't speak while we had waited. I had nothing to say, and I think John was afraid to say anything. You could see the worry across his soft boyish features; I wanted to hold him and tell him that I was going to be okay, but I couldn't make myself.

All the waiting made me want to scream.