by A. K. Evans
Nodding my head in understanding, I said, “Okay.”
Twenty minutes later, we had pulled up outside my apartment. I couldn’t exactly read anything on Roscoe’s face when he saw where I lived. I wasn’t exactly poor, but I definitely didn’t have anywhere near the level of wealth that he did.
“This is where you live?” he asked.
I had to wonder if he was cringing on the inside when he realized just how different we were on the social status scale.
“This is where I live,” I confirmed as I reached my hand out to open the door. “Thank you for giving me a ride home.”
Roscoe smiled and said, “I had a fantastic time with you last night.”
“I enjoyed it, too,” I assured him.
He didn’t immediately respond, so I figured that was my cue to get out so he could move along with his day. But just as I opened the door, he reached for my arm that was closest to him.
When I looked back at him, he shared, “I’ll be back from the tour in a few months, Sienna. If you’re up for it, I’d love to come back and reconnect with you.”
He wanted to see me again?
Had the girls been right?
I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but everything about what he’d just said indicated that I had every reason to get them up.
Something warm moved through me, and I quietly replied, “Yeah. That sounds like fun.”
Roscoe reached up behind my head, tugged me in his direction, and kissed me once more. When he separated from me again, he said, “It was good to see you, Sienna.”
I smiled at him. “You too, Roscoe. I hope the rest of the tour is successful.”
“Thanks.”
At that, I opened my door and got out.
Then I walked away from Roscoe’s truck, feeling better about him than I had in my whole life. I never expected I would have gone into Addy’s wedding yesterday feeling so nervous, only to wake up this morning feeling so hopeful.
I just wish I would have known how short-lived that feeling would be.
Five
Sienna
It had been confirmed.
It was official now, and there was no looking back.
Though I’d taken no less than five pregnancy tests—all of which came back positive—I still somehow thought that maybe the bloodwork my doctor had ordered would have come back with a different result.
That was not the case.
Not at all.
I was pregnant.
And even if I wanted to doubt the results of the urine pregnancy tests and the bloodwork, I really didn’t see how I could ignore what was staring me in the face right now.
The small black-and-white photo I held in my hand was all the evidence I needed to erase any doubts I had about whether or not this was really happening.
I was having a baby.
I was eight and a half weeks pregnant, and I had no idea what I was going to do. Because I was willing to bet my meager life savings that the father of the baby that was currently growing inside my uterus would not be excited about this news.
Even if I foolishly thought there might have been a glimmer of hope of something between Roscoe and me before he left to go back on tour, there was no doubt in my mind now that this news would certainly dim any of that.
But I had to tell him.
God, I had to tell him.
And I was dreading every single thing about that. I’d tried envisioning it. I tried to come up with a couple of different scenarios or ways to tell him that might make it not seem so bad. There was not one single scenario I could come up with that would allow me to reveal this news to Roscoe in a way that wouldn’t make him upset.
I hated that.
Because although I knew he would not be happy about this, I was overjoyed about it. Granted, I hadn’t exactly planned to get pregnant. But I wasn’t upset about it either.
What did bother me was that I couldn’t contact him right now. I didn’t have Roscoe’s number. Addy was on her six-month long honeymoon—the one I’d specifically made her promise not to worry about calling me from—so I couldn’t ask her for it.
Obviously, I knew Roscoe’s parents well, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to go to them to ask them for their son’s number. And it wasn’t because I thought that they wouldn’t give it to me. I knew they would. But I had no clue what reason I’d give them for needing it. I didn’t think it was right to tell them about the pregnancy before he knew about it. That was his news to share, and I wasn’t going to take that away from him.
I didn’t know how I was going to hide this until he got back, either. Roscoe would be playing his last show on the tour when I was eighteen weeks pregnant. The reality, and sad truth, was that by the time he got back home, I’d be nearly halfway through the pregnancy.
Would that upset him? Or would he be more upset that I was pregnant at all?
I’d have to tell my parents, especially if I started showing. Right now, the changes I felt were minor, and nothing that couldn’t be covered up. By the time spring rolled around and the weather got nicer, it’d be harder to hide under oversized sweatshirts.
My fingers tightened on the edges of the ultrasound photo as I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh.
For now, I simply needed to give myself some time to cope with the news and try to figure things out. I had to plan for all the scenarios, including ones that involved Roscoe sticking around and being involved, to ones that had Roscoe never speaking to me again and not caring that we’d made a baby together.
“Sienna?”
I did my best to shake off all my worries and looked up into the concerned eyes of my doctor.
“Hmm?” I replied.
He eyed me curiously. “Is everything alright? You seem a little distracted.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “This just… this wasn’t a planned pregnancy, so I’m trying to take it all in. I’ve been telling myself that the only reason the urine pregnancy tests came back positive was because I’d somehow taken them incorrectly and that you’d do the bloodwork and tell me that those drug store tests were, in fact, false positives.”
“You said you took five or six of them,” he reminded me. “It’s unlikely that there would be that many to give you a false positive. That said, we can certainly discuss options if you aren’t prepared for this pregnancy.”
I shook my head. “No. No, I’m happy about the pregnancy,” I insisted. “I just…”
“The father is not around, right?” he confirmed.
“Well, he doesn’t know about the pregnancy yet because he works a job that requires him to be out of town for long stretches of time sometimes,” I began. “And this really isn’t the kind of thing I want to tell him over the phone, so I need to wait until he’s back.”
Dr. Langley nodded his understanding. “Right. Okay. Well, is there anything else, in the meantime, that you have concerns or questions about?”
I wanted to tell him that I had a ton of questions, but I didn’t do that.
Because all the questions I had weren’t anything that he could help me with. Most of those questions were all with regard to how the hell I was going to manage to do all of this.
How would I tell Roscoe? How would he react? Would our families be happy or upset? Would I be a single mom?
Hell, I didn’t need to ask that last question. I already knew the answer to that one. If there was one thing that I had absolutely no doubt about, it was that I’d be a single mother. I’d had a few days to sit with that already, and even though I knew I could do it, I hated that that’s how it would be.
“Um, I guess the only question I have is with regard to my job,” I shared. “Is there any reason I wouldn’t be able to continue doing my work?”
“You’re a delivery driver, correct?” he asked.
I nodded.
“At this stage of the pregnancy, I don’t see any reason why you can’t continue to do the things you’ve always done,” he started. “Now, as t
ime goes on, we may need to talk about what you’re going to do.”
“Did you see something in the ultrasound that makes you think there will be a problem down the road?” I questioned him.
Shaking his head, he insisted, “Not at all. Everything on the ultrasound looked great. The pregnancy is progressing beautifully. I was merely suggesting that we’d need to consider what your job duties will consist of as your belly grows. I don’t know how large some of the packages are that you’d need to lift, but as your pregnancy progresses, bulkier and heavier packages may be a problem for you. For now, I don’t see any reason to restrict your activities.”
I smiled at him, grateful for his reassurance. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome, Sienna. Is there anything else?”
I sighed. “I’m sure there is, but I can barely think straight right now,” I replied.
“That’s understandable and completely common, so don’t feel bad about that,” he said. “If anything comes up or something doesn’t feel right, just call the office. I’ll be happy to address any concerns you have. For now, I’ll step out so that you can get dressed, and then you can come on out to get your next couple of appointments scheduled.”
“Sounds great.”
Dr. Langley gave me a nod and walked out of the room.
Once the door was closed, I carefully hopped down off the table and got myself dressed. At least my clothes all still fit me.
Ten minutes later, I was walking out into the parking lot with an appointment card for my next three visits, which only served to further solidify the fact that I was pregnant and that this was really happening.
Four weeks later
I’d just left the doctor’s office.
I was officially out of the first trimester, and everything was still progressing as it should.
Over the last several weeks, I tried not to get myself too worked up about what was happening. I went to work, came home, and did my best to just give myself the time I needed to rest.
Being pregnant was hard work, harder than I had ever anticipated it would be. I was fortunate enough not to deal with too much morning sickness. I had experienced only a few days of it and had a newfound appreciation and respect for the women who went through that every day. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.
I still hadn’t shared the news of my pregnancy with anyone, and I couldn’t take it any longer. As much as I wanted Roscoe to be the first to know, he was still weeks away from coming home.
I wanted… No, I needed support. I needed someone to talk to about it.
So, I was heading over to see my mom. She knew I was stopping by for a visit, but she had no idea what I had to tell her.
I could trust her to keep the news quiet until I was able to tell Roscoe, and I had no doubt she’d do everything she could to support me over the next few weeks.
That said, this was going to come as a shock to her. I used the drive from the doctor’s office to her house to try and figure out how I was going to tell her. By the time I pulled up in front of her house, I had nothing worked out.
It looked like I was just going to wing it.
I walked into the garage through the open door—something she always opened if she knew I was coming by—and gave a gentle knock on the door that led into the house before I opened it. When I walked in, I called out, “Mom?”
“I’m in the kitchen,” she answered.
I closed the door behind me and went out to meet her.
“Hey, Sienna. What’s going on?” she asked as I walked into the kitchen.
I sat down at the island that she was in the process of wiping down and cut right to the chase. “I have something I need to tell you,” I blurted.
At the sound of my voice and the words that it spoke, she stood straight up and stopped cleaning the counter. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s nothing that’s necessarily wrong,” I began. “But I have something really important to share. Before I do that, though, you have to promise me that you won’t say a word about it.”
“Nobody?”
“Only dad when he comes home from work,” I told her.
She eyed me warily for a few seconds before she nodded and promised, “Okay. Only your dad, then. What’s going on?”
“You might want to sit down,” I urged.
Growing more and more alarmed by the second, she took her dish rag over to the sink, washed her hands, and came back to sit down beside me.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
“I’m pregnant,” I said.
Apparently, winging it meant that I was going to just cut right to the chase.
My mom’s eyes widened in shock. “Pregnant?” she repeated.
I nodded.
“I didn’t even know you were seeing anybody,” she declared.
Oh boy.
This was the problem with winging it. I didn’t even think about this part of the whole thing. Of course, my mom would have assumed that I would have to at least be seeing someone to wind up pregnant.
“I’m not seeing someone,” I informed her. “It was a one-night stand.”
That’s when it hit her. I saw sadness move through her features, but I could tell it wasn’t sadness out of feeling disappointment in me. She was realizing that I was going to have to do this on my own.
“Have you been to the doctor?” she asked.
Instead of responding with words, I reached into my purse, pulled out the ultrasound, and held it out to her. She took it with one hand and covered her mouth with the other as tears welled in her eyes.
After studying the picture for a few moments, I saw the confusion wash over her. “Wait. This ultrasound is from weeks ago. How far along are you?”
“Thirteen weeks,” I admitted.
“Oh, Sienna. You’ve been keeping this to yourself all this time?” she asked.
I started to feel my emotions get the best of me. Secretly, I told myself it was the pregnancy hormones causing it, but I knew that wasn’t the case. This was precisely the reason I came here. As soon as she realized how long it had been, she hated knowing that I’d been dealing with this on my own.
I dipped my chin. “I’ve been trying to adjust to the news, but it’s been difficult not having someone to talk to.”
“You know I’m here for you. Your father and I always will be. And whatever we can do to help you with this, emotionally or financially, you know we will.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here now. I could use some emotional support.”
While I knew she was being entirely honest when she said they’d offer financial support, the truth was that I didn’t want them to have to do that. My parents did okay for themselves, but they weren’t exactly wealthy. They’d done their job as parents and raised me, giving me a great childhood where I didn’t want for anything.
But I knew it wasn’t exactly easy for them. Having a kid was expensive, and my dad worked a blue-collar job. He earned an honest living and paid his bills. When I was younger, I could recall seeing them budget their money. They had envelopes they’d fill with cash for different reasons. Gas, groceries, vacation, birthdays, holidays, car maintenance, and Sienna were some of the labels I saw written on those envelopes. And it wasn’t difficult to see that the vacation envelope always took the longest to fill.
The last thing I would do now was make them think that raising this child was their responsibility.
My mom assessed me briefly. “So, what’s your plan now?”
Shrugging, I confessed, “I don’t exactly have one. I’ve been so tired after getting home from work that I often just eat dinner and relax. The doctor said I should start having a bit more energy now that I’m out of the first trimester.”
“I can remember those days when I was pregnant with you,” she began. “I loved every single second of being pregnant, but the exhaustion, especially in the beginning, was just another level.”
“These last few weeks were the first time I
could remember falling asleep at eight-thirty in the evening since I was probably a little kid,” I noted.
“Well, it’s important that you’re doing what you have to do to rest and take care of yourself,” she praised me.
This was good. It felt nice to have her here to talk to, and as time went on, there was no doubt she’d be able to provide me with sound advice.
“Aside from the exhaustion, how are you feeling?” she wondered.
“Nervous.”
“About the delivery or about what comes after it?”
I shook my head. “Neither. Well, I mean, that’s a lie. I haven’t really given myself the opportunity to think that far ahead.”
Tipping her head to the side as curiosity washed over her, she asked, “So, what are you nervous about, then?”
And this was the thing I wished I’d had a better plan for before I arrived. “There’s something else you should know about the pregnancy,” I warned her.
She sat up straight and reached her hand out to cover mine. “Is the baby okay?”
“The baby is fine,” I assured her.
“Okay. What’s going on, then? Why are you nervous?”
“It’s about the baby’s father,” I shared.
More confusion marred her features. Clearly, my mom hadn’t exactly gotten the right impression when I told her I had a one-night stand.
“But I thought you said this wasn’t someone you were dating.”
“I’m not. But I still know who the guy is. Geez, mom, I’m not some woman who goes around sleeping with just anyone.”
“Sienna, I wasn’t trying to imply that was the case. I guess I just… I don’t know what I thought, to be honest.”
The silence stretched between us for a long time. I used that time to try to figure out how she would react to the news I was about to share, and I had a feeling she used that time to try to figure out what I could possibly have to say.
It was crazy to me. I had to wonder if the news of the baby’s father would come as a bigger shock to her than the news of the actual pregnancy.