So This Is Life

Chapter 6

Jefferson's p.o.v

Bright white light filtered through the high-rise windows, bathing the linoleum in warmth. A magnificent fountain stood in the middle of the floor, overlooking the various plantboxes. Chairs lined the walls and a huge oak desk stood at the end.

And that was just the damn lobby.

I don't think I'd ever fully appreciated the true beauty before, but that was probably because I'd always been distracted every other time I'd been here. This time, my mind was relatively clear and as I looked around, I began to contemplate the fragility of life and what it represents.

But enough with that horse shit.

When I said my name to the lady in reception, she looked very excited: I think she even squealed a little bit.

"You can go straight up to Dr Franklin's office," she said, watching me doggedly as I took the elevator, looking around me as the doors closed...

James.

Where was James?

The last time I'd seen him was on the bus. We'd been sitting in those reserved seats, but then someone else had got on, some kid with a leg cast and he had to move. Had he moved back? Starting to panic, I held the crutch to the side of my body with my arm and reached for my phone. Uh oh. 7 miscalls and 13 messages. I called him back quickly.

"Heyyy," I said awkwardly as the call connected.

"Where are you?" he replied, sounding utterly furious.

"At the hospital."

"At the hospital?"

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"About 3 stops down. You had to get off first before I realised and scrambled off as soon as I could."

"How long are you gonna be?" I asked, heart hammering. The elevator pinged.

"No more than 20 minutes."

A button lit up.

"Can you be quicker?"

The framework shuddered and groaned.

"I'll be here as soon as I can."

The doors slid open.

Sighing, I said my goodbyes and disconnected the call, hopping (is hopping the right word?) down the corridor. I knocked on Franklin's noisy door.

Almost immediately the murmuring, whispering and arguing disappeared, and was replaced by a thick blanket of silence. There was a little more mumbling, some people shuffled their feet and the door was flung open to reveal Franklin in all his 5' 9" glory, grinning merrily at me.

"Thomas!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a reluctantly-returned hug. He paused for a moment, and then said, "Where's James?"

"Wrong bus stop," I explained. He smiled at me again and ushered me inside.

There most have been at least 20 people in that room. Women, men, all wearing long white lab coats and clutching notebooks, pens poised like daggers. Their eyes were trained on me, and I carefully avoided all 40 eyes by looking at the floor.

"What's with the crutches?" one called. My face flushed and I closed my eyes, listening to Franklin explain the whole stupid leg thing. Pens scribbled, but suddenly the door slammed and James ran in, panting.

"Sorry I'm late," he mumbled, letting me pass him my crutches and lean on him. Franklin smiled and shook his head, gesturing to the two seats.

We sat down, facing him. I placed my hands at the side of my eye, blocking out the creepy-ass eyes that were watching me, raking over my body. I unconsciously placed my hands on my stomach.

"So, how have you been?" Franklin asked, leaning forward and clasping his hands on the desk.

"Okay, I replied in a tone that suggested I was reasoning with myself. "I mean, today is the first day in 4 weeks I haven't thrown up. It's nice, to be honest."

He chuckled.

"That's normal," he replied. "Some wo- people get worse morning sickness than others."

We talked a for a few more minutes before he asked me to stand up and pull up my sweatshirt. I did so self-consciously. Grabbing a tape measure, Franklin wrapped it around my stomach, smiling as he checked it. More scribbling. James watched intently. I hopped up onto the bed (which was thankfully lower this time) and let him run the ultrasound wand over my stomach. Most in the room gasped as our child appeared on the screen.

"Would you like to hear the heartbeat?" Franklin asked softly. I nodded, glancing at James. He was smiling at the screen.

Franklin fiddled a little with the machine, and a whoosing sound filled the air. A hush fell across the room, and I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I looked at my child. God, he was so beautiful. Or she. Whatever. They'd be beautiful anyway.

"Beautiful," I whispered as Franklin wiped the gel off and let me sit slowly up before helping me onto a set of scales. They read normal, apparently. With a couple of blood pressure checks, we sat back down and reviewed the findings.

"Everything seems perfectly fine," Franklin announced, smiling at us.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are all these people here?" James cut in anxiously.

"Don't worry, they're not reporters," he replied. "It's just the is the first male pregnancy... well, ever."

I laughed awkwardly, nodding along with the reporters. I hooked my arms under the slight bulge in my stomach, protecting my child. None of these slimy researchers were going to get their hands on him/her!

All of a sudden, I felt my stomach begin to roll. You know like when you switch the washing machine on, it clunks and makes some weird noises before starting to swirl. That's basically what happened with my stomach. It dropped at least a foot, gurgled a bit and then I pretty much immediately began to projectile-vomit all over the floor. Doctors, nurses and researchers leapt out of the firing range and many began to squiggle down notes on my condition as James held my hair back and rubbed circles into my back.

"Sorry," I mumbled as I sat back up, feeling exhausted."Headache'll probably hit in about half an hour."

Franklin smiled apologetically.

"Would you mind staying here until that's over?"

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Wow that was... awful. Damn. Next chapter should be better (hopefully). Hope you enjoyed, but don't worry if you didn't. OH! I have a new book up. It's called The Crazy Escapades of the Founding Fathers. Go check it out if you're interested!!