Girls Love Beyoncé

87

THIRD POINT OF VIEW

The strings on Beyoncé's hoodie had been tugged three times since she sat down. She was freezing cold, legs bouncing, and couldn't stop her hands from moving. Kelly sat at her side, not sure how to keep her calm.

Truth be told, she was a wreck herself.

She rubbed Beyoncé's back, slow circles, trying to be her anchor, but the blonde's mind ran wild. What if her mom found out, kicked her out, turned her back, told her she was a disappointment?

What if she never looked at her the same again?

What if Onika really wasn't there the way she thinks she'd be? She said she'd come see her. But she never did. What if it stayed like that the rest of her child's life? Words with no action? What if she really had to be a single mother?

Her throat was tight. Her palms were damp. She couldn't even focus on the clock in front of her. The second hand felt like it was ticking just to taunt her.

Every scenario played out at once her mom yelling. Her friends drifting away. Onika disappearing. Her baby crying with no one to help her.

Kelly squeezed her knee gently, but it didn't stop the spiral. What did was the door opening and the doctor walking in with a smile.

She was older, really pretty, and seemed gentle. That's what Kelly saw. But what Beyoncé saw was someone who would judge her. Someone who would assume she knew Beyoncé, but she really didn't.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Knowles. My name is Mrs. Houston. It's nice to meet you." She smiled warmly, but Beyoncé only nodded, throat too tight to speak.

"I'm sorry, she's really nervous—my name is Kelly, I'm her best friend." Kelly introduced herself, shaking hands firmly with the doctor.

She didn't play about Beyoncé, so she'd do whatever her friend needed, and right now that meant being the strong one.

"Nice to meet you, Kelly. So it seems like we're in today for an ultrasound, right? Are you excited to see how far along you are?" Mrs. Houston asked, pulling out a chair and switching on the ultrasound machine.

The steady hum of the machine made Beyoncé's stomach twist. She watched every small movement of the woman's hands sharply, her body tense. Instinctively, her arms folded across her stomach, as if protecting it.

Kelly rubbed her back again, answering for her when she couldn't. "So what are you gonna do?"

"I'm just going to pour some gel on your stomach. It'll be cold, but it'll be worth it in the end," Mrs. Houston said gently, meeting Beyoncé's eyes.

"We'll look around, measure things, see where you're at. If everything lines up, we might even hear a heartbeat. It's very early, but sometimes you can catch it. That's always special."

Beyoncé let out a shaky breath, trying to focus on the doctor's voice instead of the pounding in her chest. She nodded slowly, forcing herself to lower her arms. She wanted to be in this moment, to be strong, but the fear was still there, thick in her throat.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle. If you ever feel pain or discomfort, you tell me and I'll shut it down. But you shouldn't feel a thing," Mrs. Houston reassured, making sure her gloves were snug before sliding her chair over to Beyoncé.

Beyoncé lay back stiffly, her hoodie bunched up just enough to expose her stomach. She jumped slightly when the gel first touched her skin it was colder than she expected.

"Sorry, I know that part's never fun," Mrs. Houston said lightly, guiding the probe across her stomach.

The room filled with a soft, steady hum as the machine processed. Beyoncé's eyes darted between the ceiling and the monitor, her breath caught in her chest.