Taking Chances

16. Consequences

"This is weird..." Lindsey mumbled as he wiped his stomach of the gel that he was mostly used to them putting on his wife.

"Yeah, at least we don't have to worry that you're pregnant," Stevie subconsciously replied sarcastically as she roamed around, waiting for him.

The technician had already come and gone and the ultrasound photos she did were already in the works, being developed for the doctor at the private practice.

"Must you be a smart ass?" he actually smirked as he pulled his jeans all the way up and zipped them in place.

"Gives me comfort in times of crisis."

"Is this a crisis?"

"It could be," she walked over to him.

"How come you're so calm about it? I mean, you tell me you're worried yet you're calm as fuck and meanwhile I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest."

"You have to relax," she brought her hand to the side of his arm."I know this is scary, but you have to be calm. There's something called, target fixation, do you know what that is?"

"Does that sound like something I would know?"

"Well, I taught you mostly everything I learned back in the day, but you are one to forget. Oh, and by the way, alcohol is another brain cell killer."

"Just..." he put his hand up. "I'd rather relearn whatever target fixation is," he guided her out of the room.

"It's something athlete's are more aware of. Say you're skiing and you see a rock; your first instinct would be, Oh, big rock, move around it. But sometimes and it happens, if you stay fixated on the rock, Don't hit the rock, don't hit the rock, don't hit the rock... Guess what---you hit the rock," she said quite bluntly. "By being worried of what you don't want, worry pulls in negatively and it happens regardless."

"Awe, see... I knew then I married you for your brains," he winked.

"Really? I don't think I had one when I married you," she smirked. She rolled her eyes, "Moral is, be calm and try and relax or you're gonna stress yourself into something worse."

"I'm doing my best, but I know I've fucked myself---I told you," his tone mostly holding frustration in which his wife could sense. "I'm thirty-five, how does this shit catch you so fast?" he thought out loud.

"You've been drinking since we you got out of high school," she claimed. "It's not your fault that you're an alcoholic, that's just in your blood, but even then I told you to be careful and you didn't listen to my brains, that you speak so highly of."

"I know and I'm sorry," he mumbled as they roamed the hospital hallways.

"I'm not the one who is sorry," she explained. "You did this to yourself, but I do feel sorry for your actions and maybe it's because most of your actions caused pain and suffering for all of us."

"Well, I'm sorry about that," he added.

"I know you are and I understand your anger and frustration," she agreed. "I'm sorry you're going through this, but I told you I'd be here by your side to help you."

He looked at her for a moment and he kind of grinned softly at her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Right," she rolled her eyes.

Rolling his in return, "It's just that you're here with me. I mean, supposedly you hate me and yet you're okay with the fact that I haven't signed divorce papers and you're just leading your own life with me as your husband, but you don't care."