Thanks for being patient. I was busy for a while with band camp and nine days of my county fair. Sad to say, my sophomore year of high school begins Wednesday.
Part Four
I'm screwed. These two words were swirling around in Emma's mind non-stop. She was standing in front of her full length mirror, wearing a strapless teal summer dress. She had her hands on her belly, wondering if she were the only one that had noticed her slight weight gain. She wasn't sure if it was from the baby or from the excessive eating.
The week had been hard. Morning sickness had hit her hard, and she'd had to lie to mother, making up some excuse about how her stomach was having trouble handling 'normal' foods when she was used to a diet of fruits and the occasional fish. Luckily, she'd bought it.
Today, Emma and Dean had their first group therapy. It had been suggested that they go to a therapist to help them adjust, and that maybe it would be the best if they went together to work out their problems.
"Emma, Dean is here to pick you up for group!" Emma's mother's voice echoed in the hallway. Emma walked outside, and saw Dean leaning against his silver sports car.
"Hey Prom Queen," Dean smiled when he saw her. She walked calmly to the car, but he could see her inner turmoil. Dean leaned in for a kiss, and she backed away.
"My mom," she said and pointed to the window, where her mother's figure could be made out just barely.
"Right," Dean said, and opened her car door for her, helping her in. He quickly raced over to his side of the car and sat down. He leaned across the car to catch her lips with his. He kissed her soft pink lips with a growing intensity.
"Thank god for tinted windows," he breathed, and she laughed. He loved her laugh. He loved making her laugh. He loved her with every fiber in his being.
They drove in silence to the therapist's office. They were used to silence. They understood each other in ways that no one else ever could. Back on the island, words weren't always necessary.
"Hi! I'm guessing you two are here for Dr. Madigan's morning appointment." An annoyingly cheery receptionist said. Emma wasn't sure why this lady irritated her so much, but she did.
"Yeah," Dean replied.
"Go on back!" the lady said, and Dean grabbed Emma's hand, pulling her towards the door.
"Welcome! You must be Dean, and you're Emma," Dr. Madigan said. He was man of probably only thirty, and Emma couldn't figure out why this guy wanted to hear about people's emotional problems for the rest of his life.
"Please, sit," Dr. Madigan said, and they did as told, Dean's hand still holding Emma's for reassurance.
"I just want you to know that whatever you guys say in here is completely confidential, and will in no way, shape, or form be revealed to anyone outside of this room, ever," Dr. Madigan said, "Let's start by talking about some emotions that you're feeling since you've been found."
"Scared," Emma said after a few seconds of silence.
"Scared," Dean agreed, knowing that she was scared about the baby, and he felt mutually, "But happy."
"Happy?" Emma questioned.
"Happy," he kissed her hand, though it was still intertwined with his.
"Relieved," Emma said.
"Better."
"Guilty," Emma mumbled.
"Tell me what it was like on the island in one word," Dr. Madigan scribbled furiously.
"Euphoric," Dean said.
"Peaceful," Emma said.
"Both of those words have positive connotations. That's not something I would expect from two teens after going through a traumatic experience. Are you glad you're home? Or do you wish you'd never been found?"
"A little of both," they said at the same time.
"Would you like to talk about what happened?" Dr. Madigan asked.
They told him everything from what they felt, to what happened, to now. Leaving out the details of the countless times they'd had sex and when Emma found out about the baby.
"Excuse me," Emma said and ran off to the attached bathroom, where she threw up her small breakfast.
"Babe, are you okay?" Dean said behind the door.
"I'm fine." Emma replied and washed her face with some cold water and took a drink from the faucet. She walked back out to the couch, and sat down.
"I have a feeling I didn't get the whole story," Dr. Madigan said.
"Babe, you want to tell him or do you want me to?" Dean asked the beautiful girl resting her head on his shoulder. She didn't respond, but a tear slid down her cheek.
"There's more to you two than just classmates that got stuck together, isn't there?" Dr. Madigan asked.
"Yeah," Dean said, "We had sex. More than once. While we were on the island. Well, contraception doesn't grow in the wild."
"She's pregnant?" Dr. Madigan asked.
"Yeah," Dean looked down at his feet.
"How many people know?"
"Just us, and you, and the doctor that checked us out right after we were found," Dean said.
Dr. Madigan sighed, and Emma couldn't help but think that he was silently complaining about this. He didn't sign up to deal with teenage pregnancies. Just post-traumatic stress.
"You have to tell your parents, you know? Go to a doctor?" Dr. Madigan sighed.
