Not About Him – Sneak Peek

Sarah stood alone, barefoot, surrounded by bright lights and white walls. Her nerves were on high alert, and had been for hours, as she started to shiver. She wrapped the gown she was wearing more tightly around her waist. The room was freezing, cold enough that her fingers were turning a shade of blue and her knuckles looked wrinkled and frail. She looked down at them with puzzled eyes.

Have I always had eighty-year-old hands?

Sarah was a beauty. She was in her mid-thirties, and had long golden-brown hair, blue eyes surrounded by thick eyelashes, and a thin, but not too thin, figure that would grab the attention of any man that crossed her path. Thing is, Sarah refused to acknowledge any such advances, not because she was shy, but because she just didn’t care.

The room she was standing in was a gynecologist’s dream. An operating table, sink, and countertops filled with rubber gloves, a metal speculum, and bottles of slick lubricant. Sarah scoured the space for a blanket, but the only thing that caught her attention was a hamper filled with used hospital gowns.

“I’m so cold though,” she said to no one but herself as her teeth chattered uncontrollably. She hesitantly opened the hamper and looked down. “Oh man, I’m going to regret this.”

She carefully pushed each blood-stained gown to the side and pulled out one that at least looked clean. She then crawled up onto the operating table and wrapped the used gown around the one she was already wearing. Fortunately for her, it was surprisingly warm; unfortunately for her, it smelled of rank body odor.

Ugh, this is so gross.

The comfort she felt, though, got the better of her and the used gown stayed on.

The door swung open and a short, gray-haired male nurse came marching in. It was as if Sarah was the next on his list of roaches to be exterminated.

“Lady, your gown is on backward,” he directed, his voice stern.

“Oh, this is my…”

“Jesus Christ, just lay down on the table,” he said. This man clearly did not want to be bothered.

Sarah did as he instructed without question, afraid he was going to slap her across the face for looking at him the wrong way.

He pulled out the stirrups. “Thighs here and here.”

She put her legs up.

“Give me your hand,” he ordered, and then swabbed the top of it with an alcohol pad. He slid a long needle into the vein, twisting it without hesitation to hit the right spot, as Sarah winced in pain.

“Is this the um…” Sarah started.

“The anesthesia? Yes.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I was getting this already. Can I speak with the−”

The room went black.

~

Two hours later, Sarah was groggy, still lying on the hospital bed. She opened her eyes, slowly realizing she was no longer in the white room; instead, she was behind a large curtain in a busier area of the hospital as nurses and doctors ran back and forth tending to patients.

The curtain swung open.

“HI!”

Sarah jumped, now fully awake. She exhaled when she realized who it was. “Oh, hi, Doctor Darcy,” she said soberly.

Doctor Darcy had a wide smile on her face and was wearing large black glasses. She was overly perky, something Sarah found incredibly irritating, even after months of being her patient.

“The procedure went very well!” she exclaimed and then took a sniff. “What is that smell?” Sarah was still wearing the used hospital gown.

“Wait, it’s over?” Sarah asked, re-directing her attention.

“Yes, it’s like you die and come back to life! Super quick.” Doctor Darcy was completely serious, yet ecstatic. “We were able to extract thirty-three eggs!”

Sarah looked at her, astonished by the large number. “Um, that’s a lot, right?”

“Well, yes, but we won’t know if it’s a good number until we fertilize them,” she said. “Do you have plans on doing that?”

“No, not right now.”

“Well, that’s okay. I’m sure you’ll meet…” The doctor started to speak but then stepped back a bit. “Oh, oh dear.”

Sarah looked down at the sheets and saw why the doctor was now so concerned; they were filling with blood between Sarah’s legs.

“NURSE!” Doctor Darcy called out.

Sarah’s not-so-favorite nurse came running in and shouted viciously. “What the hell happened here?!”

Before either could answer, he began to aggressively remove the sheets from beneath Sarah, as she backed up into her pillow.

“Sarah, I think it’s best to keep you here for another few hours,” the doctor said.

“Oh, no I can’t,” Sarah told her. “I have a wedding today.”

Doctor Darcy looked at her, and as if she blew a quick line of cocaine, she said, “I really think it’s best if you stay!”

Sarah, now a little scared, responded, “I really can’t.” Then, Sarah gave her a sarcastic smile and, right before the doctor spoke again, she maneuvered around the nurse like a snake, stood up, and headed for the lockers.

As she left the area, Doctor Darcy called after her. “Okay, well then, I would strongly advise you rest tonight. At least until the bloating subsides!”

Sarah turned toward her, and as she did, she saw a menstrual pad flying in her direction, tossed ever so graciously by the male nurse. Before she could duck or move out of the way though, it smacked her in the face and fell to the floor. Sarah bent down to pick it up, and as she turned to walk out of the room, the doctor shouted, “And no alcohol!”

~

Ten minutes later, Sarah opened the hospital doors and stepped out into the cold air. She immediately pulled a flask filled with tequila from her purse and took a big swig.

“How’d it go?” Finch asked as Sarah opened the car door. Gray clouds blanketed the sky, and it looked like it was about to snow any minute.

Finch had been Sarah’s best friend since sixth grade. He towered over her at six feet, and had dark red hair, freckles, and the oddest British accent Sarah had ever heard. It sounded fake, but Sarah confirmed with his parents that he did in fact move from Liverpool when he was eleven. It must have somehow mixed with the New Jersey accent he formed while living in Hoboken.

“I’m just happy it’s over,” Sarah told him. “Want some?” She offered up the flask.

“It’s noon.”

“Yeah,” Sarah said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t forget about the wedding, did you? Please tell me you brought your suit.”

“It’s in the trunk.”

“Okay, let’s go straight to my apartment so I can shower before we have to go to this thing.”

Finch rolled his eyes and pulled out of the parking lot, turning left onto the busier road.

About forty minutes later, they reached Sarah’s apartment. Sarah rushed up the stairs and ran into the bathroom to turn on the shower as Finch grabbed a beer from the fridge, plopped on the couch, and turned on the television to the football game. Sarah knew he wasn’t thrilled she invited him to a Sunday wedding in November, but he accepted because he was her friend. At least that’s what he told her.

“Did you grab the card like I asked?” Sarah shouted over the sound of running water from the shower.

“YES,” Finch yelled back.

When she was done, Sarah turned off the shower, wiped the fog covering the mirror, and looked at her reflection. You have to be kidding me, she thought as she stared at her bloated face. She walked out of the bathroom, and with one pink towel wrapped around her body and another on her head, she looked like a soft-served strawberry ice cream cone.

“Thanks,” Sarah said when Finch showed her the card. “Can you just write it out and throw three hundred dollars in there?”

“What? No, I’m not paying,” Finch responded. “She’s your friend.”

Sarah scoffed. “I don’t like her though. Why do you think I’m drinking already?”

“Aren’t you in the wedding?”

“Yeah.” Sarah looked at him confused. “So?”

Finch looked at the television and jumped up. “YES BABY!” he screamed as the Giants scored a touchdown.

“Finch, you owe me from Pete’s wedding. Remember, I paid?” she asked, ignoring his excitement and remembering the time she paid for his friend and his fiancée to get divorced three months after they wed.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Okay fine, just go get dressed.”

Sarah walked into her bedroom and spent an hour blow-drying her hair and doing her makeup. She squeezed into the bridesmaid’s dress that the bride, Jessica, ordered her to wear. It was bright purple, but wasn’t terribly ugly, minus the color. It barely fit Sarah now that she was about ten pounds heavier from the retrieval, and she was having trouble pulling the zipper up.

“Finch, can you come here?” Sarah called from the bedroom.

“Oh wow, you look, uh…” Finch began.

Sarah looked at him with puppy-dog eyes, thinking he was going to say beautiful.

“…horrible.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m assuming there’s nothing you can do about…that?” Finch asked, gesturing his hands to show that he was referring to her entire body.

“Just…zipper up the back for me.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to go out tonight?” Finch asked as he struggled to get the zipper past her mid-back. “You don’t look great.” “Yes, you’ve already mentioned that,” Sarah responded. “I’m fine. Let’s go…