But it was just the nurse, kind and broad-faced, braids encircling her head. “You ready?” she asked.
I followed her pink scrubs through the maze of hallways. I began to wonder if I shouldn’t have gone to my regular ob-gyn for this, but then my mother would have gotten the insurance statement. At least here, all the documentation came straight to me.
The nurse led me into an exam room. “So you want a screening?” she asked.
I stepped up on the ledge to the exam table and sat on the paper runner. “Yeah. I guess whatever the standard workup is.”
“What symptoms are you having?” she asked, pen poised over her clipboard. She said this like it was perfectly natural to have this horrible conversation. I guess on a college campus, she saw this a lot.
“Mainly, paranoia,” I said.
She laughed. “No itching or burning or pain with urination or intercourse?”
“No. I just had an encounter with a man whore and the condom got lost in the sand.”
“Ouch,” she said. She came forward and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “How long ago?”
“Friday,” I said.
She nodded as she pumped air into the cuff. “We’ll swab you, but we might not detect anything that new. If you have any problems in the next couple of weeks, you might want to return for a repeat.”
Great, I’d have to do this again. I hadn’t even thought there might be an incubation period.
“Okay,” I said, but she wasn’t listening, intent on the blood pressure dial.
She released the air. “All looks good here. I’ll send Dr. Alpern in. Undress waist down and cover with the sheet.”
I nodded.
I kicked off my shoes and piled my clothes on a chair in the corner. Then I waited, deciding to skip looking at my phone. Just be.
But as soon as my mind had nothing to occupy it, Chance came right back. Singing. Looking at me from the stage. Hopping down next to me despite all those hot actresses swarming around him.
He’d chosen me. My body warmed over. Why had he done that, only to switch to the A-list after? Maybe he had mistaken me for somebody else.
Or hadn’t gotten what he really wanted. I had to bite my cheek to banish that depressing thought.
Two swift knocks on the door startled me. “Everyone indecent?” a voice asked.
“All good,” I said.
The doctor entered, older, gray-haired, in a traditional lab coat, something I didn’t see much anymore. He extended a hand. “I’m Dr. Alpern,” he said.
“I’m Jenny.”
“Well, Jenny, let’s take a look.” He flipped through a chart. “We’re going to do a quick panel. It also looks like you need a new script for your birth control. So we should do the full annual so I can sign off on that.”
I remembered seeing at least one full pack plus a partial when I took my pill that morning. “I don’t think so. I can do that next month when I run out.”
He frowned. “You should be out now. In fact, what are you using for birth control?”
My head spun. “The pill,” I said.
He nodded and smiled. “Okay. Maybe you overlapped last time and had some extra. You come back when it’s time.” He sat on a stool. “Go ahead and lie back and scoot to the edge.”
I fell back on the paper pillow, but my head was spinning. I didn’t remember having extra, but that had been a year ago. I knew I had gotten a little sloppy here and there with taking the pill, but I was with Frankie and it didn’t matter.
We had a lot of late parties, and unexpected overnights in LA with my pills in San Diego. The blood drained out of me as I thought about just how often it had happened, and if that might have meant I missed too many.
“How many can you miss and still be safe?” I asked.
Dr. Alpern looked up over the paper tented on my knees. “Generally a missed pill here and there isn’t disastrous,” he said, “although it does put you at risk.”
My heart started thumping. “What if you were sort of sketchy about taking it over a long period?”
He paused, concentrating on the task of sticking random things in me for a minute. Then he withdrew and rolled back. “I’d say it’s time for a different form of birth control.”
I sat up. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“There’s IUDs, patches, and the ring,” he said.
“I’ll look them up,” I said. “I’ll decide before I do the annual exam.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” he said. “Do you think you could be pregnant?”
“No, no way,” I said. But I felt a niggle of doubt. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“When was your last period?”
“A couple weeks ago, but it’s not late or anything. I haven’t—” I swallowed over the lump of fear in my throat. “I mean, I’ve only had the one time in like four months.”
He patted my shoulder. “I’m sure you’re fine, then. Just watch for that period since things are a little uncertain.”
I refused to even be concerned. I’m sure I was better than I thought I was with the pill. And I had taken it that morning of the party, I was sure of it. And every day since. Except maybe the morning of the viral video.