I got used to the coolness of the bathroom tile on the side of my face. Something I didn’t necessarily want to get used to, but since the flu had shown up at my doorstep yesterday, the constant need to vomit wore me out. The energy to drag myself back into my bed was long gone, so I remained laying on the floor, my body curled around the toilet, the bathroom rug bunched up under my torso. The one thing that kept me conscious and stable was my cheek pressed against the tile. I didn’t feel nauseated thanks to the sensation.

I hadn’t been sick like this since I was a kid, so my body made up for all the years I wasn’t. I knew it didn’t mean I was immune to the flu. I was just surprised by the suddenness of it. At first, I thought maybe it was a reaction to the new medication I was on, but when I pulled up Zoloft’s website, recurring vomiting wasn’t a symptom.

Sometimes, it was only dry heaves, and sometimes, it was my entire meal right back up. Then came the queasiness, and I knew it had to be more severe than merely a side effect to a drug. Thus, I self-diagnosed myself with the flu. Even if there wasn’t the usual fever attached, I simply chalked it up to my body not being in fighting condition. Not to mention the rotten mood I had been in for the past week didn’t help.

I peeked at my phone and it flashed the time back at me. 2:30 a.m. Lisa would be back any minute now from the club she worked at, and I hoped she wasn’t planning on bringing anyone home tonight. I texted her to warn her I was still sick, just in case she considered it. I didn’t need to battle some half naked male for the toilet at five a.m.

“Still? Jesus Christ, Fifi, it looks like you’re pregnant or something,” she scoffed when she showed up ten minutes later and leaned against the bathroom sink. Her combat boots were the only thing in my line of vision, so I sat myself up gingerly against the wall and looked at her. She wore her usual fishnet stockings with a hot pink mini skirt and a white, cut-up Ramones shirt. Her dreads were pulled back in a ponytail, and her makeup rivaled that of Harley Quinn. She was a shot girl at the local gay club, but of course she knew how to sniff out the straight males and usually enticed them to come home with her. Tonight’s lucky guy would have gone by the name Jake, but she’d picked me over him, which relieved me greatly. The guy turned out to be an asshole anyways and apparently didn’t like what he declared a sad excuse—that her roommate was puking her guts out so she couldn’t spread her legs for him. Typical.

“Good. You don’t need a guy like that around anyway,” I said and tilted my head back. The room started to spin a little so I closed my eyes.

“Fifi, are you sure this is the flu? Your symptoms are honestly telling me otherwise,” she said, her tone indicating what she meant.

“Lisa, I’m not pregnant. You have to have sex to get preg—” I stopped and my eyes popped open. Fuck.

“Yeah, I know how it works. You don’t need to remind me what I’m missing out on tonight.” She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at me. “Wait, why are you staring at me like that? Have you been sneaking out behind my back? Jesus, girl, I knew you were lonely, but so soon?” she continued and folded her arms. She eyed me accusingly.

“No, it…happened before I was discharged,” I breathed and closed my eyes again. I didn’t want to see the reaction in her face after I dropped that doozy of a sentence. Especially since I hadn’t been exactly the most open person to her about what had happened during my hospital stay.

“What? Fiona, what’s going on? Are you trying to tell me you were taken advantage of in a fucking psych ward, of all places? Talk to me, Fi. My brain is going crazy over here.”

I huffed. I had to tell her the whole truth. She was my best friend, after all, and like she said, her brain would go crazy with wild assumptions if I didn’t cough it up.

“First, let’s get one thing straight. I was not taken advantage of and wanted it as badly at the time and consented,” I claimed and held up a finger at her to make my point very clear.

“Okay, I hear ya loud and clear. Now tell me who the lucky guy was! Was it with a roomie? A maniac? Oooh, was he a hoarder?” Her eyes brimmed with curiosity.

“It was with…Josh,” I said with a hint of sadness.

“Who?” she asked, frowning and confused.

“Dr. Josh Sullivan,” I stated.

Her jaw dropped, and she nearly shrieked, “Your shrink? Dr. Sullivan, your fucking shrink?”

I nodded meekly and felt my cheeks heat up. “Yes, the one and only.”

“Oh, my God, you dog! I can’t believe out of all the men who could have deflowered you, you let your damn shrink do it. Wow, just wow, and you say you weren’t taken advantage of. Are you sure? Because you know I’ll kick his ass. I don’t care if he’s the damn doctor of the century, I’ll fucking break his—”

“Lisa. Lisa, stop! No, I promise it was mutual. I wanted him too. He cares about me and…”

“Yeah, because he gets paid to care about you, dumbass. Come on, you’re smarter than that,” she scolded and crossed her arms.

“I know. I literally said the same thing to him when he kept telling me he cared about me. Honestly, Lisa. I know I haven’t been myself since my parents died, but I swear to you, I knew what I was doing. I didn’t mean to, but Lisa, I think I’m…in love with my shrink.” I laughed at how ridiculous my declaration sounded, even to me. Lisa busted out with me, and there we were, two girls in the bathroom at three in the morning, laughing harder than we had in months. It felt good to be carefree again. To go back to the good times before the accident.

“Wow, Fifi, just wow. I mean, I guess if he treats you well, then I approve. I saw how hot he was when he came in the emergency room, and I could maybe see a spark between you two, but my greatest concern at that time was getting you the help you needed and he honestly seemed like the perfect fit for you. And he was. Look at you, you’re laughing. God, I haven’t heard you laugh in ages, Fi. And don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were dressed the day I came to pick you up. I sort of figured it wasn’t for me. I’m glad you put those cute clothes to use.”

She slid down the wall next to me and stretched her legs out in front of her and put an arm around me. I still didn’t have the guts to tell her about the fight and I could feel the guilt settling in. I wasn’t ready to hash out all the messy details but Lisa wouldn’t let it go.

“So, what are you guys gonna do about the whole doctor-patient deal? He obviously can’t date his patient, right?”

I held my next breath, unsure of what to say. I had waited for her to ask the very questions I had asked myself before everything turned to shit. I wasn’t in the mood to be scolded so I played dumb to a certain extent.

“Well, here’s the thing. I’m not really sure we are doing anything about it. He moved me to another therapist but did keep himself on as my psychiatrist to oversee all my medications and progress. I see him in another week, and after that, I see him every three months for bloodwork and such,” I explained. If he apologizes. If he doesn’t I might transfer myself to another doctor.

“Are you serious? I thought you said this guy cared about you.” I thought so too.

“He does, Lisa. I mean sure, he could drop me as a patient altogether and we could see where this goes on the outside but I don’t want him to. I know that sounds selfish but I don’t want to see another shrink, Lisa. He’s so good with me. I’ve never felt safer to speak my mind now that I’ve opened up to him. I think I’m sadder that he won’t be my therapist anymore over my feelings for him because I know he feels the same way. I could see it in his eyes the day I was discharged. He was tired, like he had been up all night considering the right move. I do think he did the right thing for both of us but still I’m nervous to see that stupid Dr. Anderson or whoever he referred me to. He did give me his personal cell number for emergencies, though.” I was such a fool to fall for him. The queasiness was back, so I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment.

“When did you guys do the dirty?” she asked.

I blushed and pondered her question for a moment. “Like two weeks ago?”

Lisa heaved herself up to retrieve my phone and placed it in my hand. “I think this is an emergency, Fifi. I’ve got some spare tests in my room, but I’m pretty positive you’re pregnant,” she said as she rose and dusted off the back of her mini skirt. She looked down at me and scrunched her nose up. “And, dear God, please brush your teeth or something. You smell like four-day-old trash.”

Leave it to Lisa to tell me exactly how shitty I felt. I leaned my head back against the wall once she left, thankful she was satisfied with my answers for now. I rubbed at my belly as concern overcame me. If Lisa were right and I was pregnant, what the hell would I do? I looked down at my phone. Should I even tell him? Would he even care? Yeah he would, because if it came out he knocked up a patient, he would be stripped of his career, not to mention, his reputation.

Our one night of passion was turning into a nightmare when another realization hit me. We didn’t use protection. I was so in the moment, floating on cloud nine that it didn’t even occur to me we should have done something to prevent this from happening. I was sure he was also in the same frame of mind since the suggestion wasn’t even brought up. I covered my eyes with my hands and groaned. At least Lisa had something to be proud of. I was finally acting my age. Twenty-one. Young and stupid and making reckless decisions.

The thought of my parents popped into my head. If they were still alive, would they be proud of their little girl getting knocked up by her own doctor? The horror I felt shuddered throughout my body because I knew if they were alive today, I wouldn’t even be in this mess.

I felt the tears trickle down my cheek before I processed I was crying. I couldn’t blame it on their death. That was a horrible thing to do, and I mentally scolded myself for it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but our own. Lisa was right. This was an emergency. No matter what, he needed to know how I felt. And if there was a baby…

Before I sunk further into my self-pity, Lisa came back with two pregnancy tests in her manicured hand. She fanned them out to me, her other hand on her hip.

“You ready to drop your panties and pee on a stick, girl?”

I tried to laugh at her attempt to make me, but all I did was launch myself over the toilet and vomit what remained of my late-night snack.

Popcorn did not taste the same coming back up.