by Nicole Reed
After giving them endless amounts of routine tubes of blood and having a magic wand stuck up my who-ha to see my future offspring, I finally experienced the magical moment. The sweetest sound of a tiny heartbeat had me falling in love with this little person inside of me. In fact, I almost missed the doctor speaking to me about my paternity options. She suggested a non-invasive prenatal paternity test called a SNP microarray test that can be performed as early as my twelfth week. After agreeing that it seemed to be the best option for me and the men involved, she gave me the number to the local laboratory where we could go and have it performed. I am elated to find out that it only takes five days to receive the results.
Leaving the office and returning back to work, I sit at my desk, tightly gripping the pictures of my progeny in my hand. It feels surreal. I keep peeking at the black and white distorted image, the word “baby”, and an arrow pointing at a small round blob. A baby. My baby. Mine and Dray’s baby or mine and Trent’s baby. OMIGOD! My head falls to my desk in a loud thunk.
“Kylie, you okay?” Leo says from the doorway.
Raising it back up, I stare at Leo. “Yeah, come in. There is something I need to share with you.” After he sits, I calmly state, “I’m pregnant.”
“Shut the front door!” He exclaims. “Do not tell me you are having Nick Andrews’s baby. I will expire on the spot right now.” Nick Andrews? Oh. I had forgotten about the little joke I had initiated in front of him and Jess.
“No! God, no.” Not that I want to share that I don’t have a clue as to who my baby’s daddy is. I mean, I know. I’m almost one hundred percent sure it’s Dray’s, but then there is the side of me that says, hold your horses, and don’t count your chickens before they hatch. I never want to Google pre-cum pregnancy never, EVER, again.
“Oh, okay,” he says, sounding relieved. “You know I can take care of the store and help out with Jonsie no matter what. I’m here, also, if you would like to talk about it.”
“Thanks, Leo,” I say, looking at him. “Please don’t say anything to anyone yet. The father and I are not together at this time.”
“You know you can trust me, Kylie.”
Martha calls for him from the front of the store, and he returns to help. Knowing what I need to do now, I stand and go to lock my door. Returning to my desk, I punch Dray’s number in my cell and listen to it ring.
“Hello?” he answers.
“Hey, can I add Trent to this call?” As much as I want to only talk to him, I know that I need to tell them both about today and go from there. At first, he doesn’t answer me.
“Yeah.”
Dialing Trent’s number, it rings several times, and I almost hang up when he finally answers.
“This is Trent.”
Merging both calls, I answer, “Hey, Trent. It’s Kylie. Dray is also on the line.”
“You have news for us, Kylie?” Trent asks.
Deep breath, “I’m pregnant. I wanted to wait until I could confirm it with my doctor before announcing it to both of you.” I don’t want to add that Dray already knows. “The doctor gave me information on a private laboratory that can draw a small amount of blood from each of us and have the results back in less than five days. I have to wait until my twelfth week of pregnancy, which should be around the first of January, but I’d like to go ahead and set up the appointment if it’s okay with both of you.”
“So you’re keeping it,” Trent’s says, his furious voice thundering over the line.
I’ve never felt this type of hostility from him. It takes me a second to realize what is happening.
“Trent. Man. What did you think she would do?” Dray softly adds.
“Well, I don’t know, Dray, considering the situation you would think that she would do the smart thing and….” His wrath dies abruptly, and I hear him whisper, “Shit, I don’t know.”
His words destroy me. It feels as if he reaches down into my chest, tears my heart out, and throws it carelessly away. A soft sob escapes me at his words. “What, Trent? You used to be pro-life, so I would think abortion would be out of the picture for you.”
“Kylie, I didn’t mean...,” he tentatively begins.
“Then what, Trent? You want me to give my child up for adoption? What if the parents don’t work out and he or she grows up in the foster system like you and Dray. Is that what you want?” I’m playing dirty, and I can’t help it. This shit hurts.
“GOD NO!” he yells.
“THEN WHAT?” I shout back.
“I don’t know, Kylie. I never planned on having children. You probably didn’t know that. When I saw the condom, I panicked and thought, well, if I have to have children with anyone then I would have picked you as their mom, and I fuckin’ tried to make it right. But, wait, you were fucking my goddamn brother and best friend.”
Dray’s stern voice booms over the phone, “Slow your roll, Trent. We all agreed we share equal amounts of blame in this shit storm.”
Trent’s bitter laugh makes me cringe. “Alright, Brother. What happens if this baby is mine? I know you want her. She evidently wants you. What then? You going to just play daddy to my kid? Am I supposed to just step back and let you?”
I suck down a big breath, holding it, waiting for Dray’s answer. My thoughts have run along the same line for weeks. It’s been my worst nightmare. It’s hard to even comprehend in my own head because I don’t know how it could possibly, logically, work. Several seconds pass, and Dray doesn’t reply.
Trent laughs again, “That’s what I thought. How is it supposed to work out if you’re the dad? I’m ecstatic because it’s not mine, but I’ve lost the girl I love, and yes you are right, Kylie. I might not be in love with you, but I’ve always loved and respected you more than that. I thought of you as my family. The same as Dray. My heart will be more true to you than any girlfriend or wife I ever have. I’m supposed to not grieve, not having you? Hell, I’m grieving you now. You think Dray is going to let us hang out if you are with him? You think it would ever be the same? Either way, I fuckin’ lose.”
The despondency in his voice worries me. I’ve never heard Trent like this. “Trent, no matter what, I will love this baby because I love you both. I realize, now, that I love you so much as a friend that I don’t want to lose you, but I have to admit my feelings about Dray. I’m in love with him.”
I wait for Dray to speak up, to say something. Anything.
Sighing, Trent says, “Well, that is that. Damn, Kylie. I don’t know if any of this can be fixed between us or if it just continually gets worse. At this point, just call me with the date and the time for the DNA test, and I’ll be there. I’m sorry,” he says then disconnects his phone.
“Dray?” I hesitantly ask.
“I’m here, Kylie,” he says after a long pause. “Listen, you were right the other night. I need to focus on my game right now. We are going to work this out, so call me and let me know when I need to get with you about that…, uh, blood sample.”
You would think my heart could not take another beating. He’s actually acting how my head wanted him to, but my heart wants to reach through the phone and snatch the hair off of his head. I refuse to cry to him. I refuse to cry on this phone. I refuse to cry; however, somebody better tell that to my tears as they fall.
“Yeah, I will,” I say. Silence again. At least it gives me time to try and cover my whiny emotional self. “I guess there is nothing left to say now.” More eternal silence. I want to scream into the phone like a three-year old just because I can. I’m seconds from hanging the phone up when I hear him.
“I have to know whose baby it is.”
That’s what I need to know. And it hurts. Shouldn’t he love me for me and not because I’m carrying his child? Okay, on the off chance it’s Trent’s, I understand. Or I don’t. I’m so confused. Could I love Dray if it was the other way around? What if he had impregnated some random girl while we were hooking up? Then I realized that I was in love with him? I would like to say that it
wouldn’t matter, but who’s kidding who. I would be ape shit mad and make his life a living Hell. Gah! I’m so fucking hormonally challenged right now.
Taking a calming breath, I say, “I understand.” I don’t. I do. Motherfuckinshitballs! I’ve got to hang this phone up. “I’ll call you.” Pressing, END, I throw my cellphone on my desk. Wiping the tears from my face, I swear, once again, that these will be my last. Dray didn’t say anything when I told Trent how I felt. Nothing. I’m tired of loving someone that can’t return the love I need and want. That’s how I ended up in this situation. I deserve more. I want more for me and this child that’s coming whether everyone is ready or not.
Leaning over to grab my purse on my desk, I find the number to the lab and call to make an appointment. The nurse informs me that I should be able to have it performed accurately in two weeks and that we can arrive at different times to avoid confrontation. Guess she sees this often. Great to know that I’m not the only slutty whore out there. Quickly thinking it over, I agree that is best for our situation and make the appointment times.
When I hang up, I text both guys the information and number if they need to change their appointment time. Feeling broken and worthless are the worst feelings ever. How did I go from not sleeping with someone in a year to being recklessly impregnated by question mark? Even worse, those question marks represent a man I thought I was in love with and a man I thought I hated. Over these next couple weeks, I’m going to take time to find me and figure what I’m going to do with my life, without Trent and Dray.
I stand, touching my belly, and close my eyes. For you, little one, I’m going to figure me out… for you.
“Hello, Miss Lord?” An unknown male voice asks as I answer my phone while jogging.
Panting, I stop and try to slow my breathing, but my voice comes out in little wheezes. “Give me a second.” Bending over, I rest my hands on my knees. Jeez, I started back jogging this past week, and I didn’t realize how out of shape my fat ass is. “This is she.”
“Hi, this is Dr. Reizman. I have the results of your pre-natal DNA testing. It says in your notes that you and the potential biological matches wanted to be contacted via phone.”
Talk about having the wind knocked out of your sail. It’s only been three days since the DNA testing appointment. THREE! DAYS! I look around the park to see if I can find a bench to sit on. It’s early morning, and only several joggers brave the cold morning air. Not spotting one close by, I hobble over to a tree and slide down it to sit at the base of the trunk.
It’s been almost three weeks since that phone call. I haven’t seen or spoken with Trent or Dray. In fact, I haven’t even heard anything about Trent. I don’t know if he is still living with Dray or not. It’s the first Christmas in seven years that I haven’t seen or, at least, spoken to them. Mads had an almost impossible task of cheering me up this year, considering the wicked combination of baby daddy drama and the loss of my aunt.
As far as Dray, I haven’t personally spoken to him, not even a hello. I’ve swallowed the pain of his loss because that is exactly what it is. He left me alone, his own ambitions his first priority. In fact, they lost the final playoff game last Sunday. Madison and I watched it, and my faithless heart hurt for him after the final whistle. I wanted a win for him so badly.
I’ve made these last couple of weeks work for me though. For us. I wake up in the mornings, take my prenatal vitamin, exercise, which I hate more than anything in this world, and then rebuild my life from bottom up once again. Explaining to my parents that they will be grandparents was a nightmare, and expounding the fact that I’m not sure if Dray or Trent is the father was a shitload of fun. My dad refuses to speak to me.
Last week, I found a nice, moderately-sized home in a northern Atlanta suburb, and the same day I made an offer I ditched my tiny convertible for a four-door S.U.V. A little premeditated, but I want this life I’m carving out for myself and the Bean. The baby looked like a bean on the ultrasound, so that is what I’m going with for now. It’s better than fetus, or worse, it. Calling it an “it”, reminds me of the Stephen King movie and the scary-ass freakish clown that I had nightmares about for months when I was a kid. So Bean and I, found us a house and a car, and now, we are going to find a father.
“Yes, this is Kylie Lord.” My voice shakes from the butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. I can imagine Bean swatting them down or chasing them with a net. Well, Dray’s child would be tackling them down. Unless, well, unless it is Trent’s. That child will be building them homes while making sure they have adequate and safe water supplies. Laughing at myself brings me out of my deranged daydream.
“Is this a good time, Miss Lord?” Dr. Reizman asks, sounding slightly worried.
God, the man probably thinks I’m a psychotic nympho considering the position I’m in. “Sorry, Sir. I’m ready.” Deep breath in and out. Deep breath in and out. Don’t hyperventilate.
He begins by explaining the percentage of possibilities and how they tested the fetal cells from my blood samples and compared them to the other possible matches. “We were able to completely exclude one of the donors, and with a percentage of ninety-nine percent, confirm the other to be the father.”
The doctor halts his words as if he is letting this sink in. No shit, dude. I’m not that big of a whore that I didn’t know that one of these two men is the father. We are not on some motherstinkin’ game show where you need to pause to get the full effect before announcing the winner. SPIT! IT! OUT!
“And?” I squeak out.
“Trent Moss is the biological father.”
WHAT?
HOW?
My stomach drops to my knees. Rolling waves of nausea move up and down my body, lodging in my throat. I retch, not being able to control my gag-reflex.
“Miss Lord, are you okay?”
No, I’m not okay. Not at all. I knew it was Dray’s baby. I would have sworn to you, with a hand on a bible, that this baby was his. He will not be able to handle this. I know he won’t. Trent was right.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Thank you, Doctor.” Another lie. There is no chance Dray will be mine from this point forward.
“The donors have been notified by my nurses. Should you have any questions, please let me know.”
Jerking my ear-buds out of my ears, I lean my head back against the tree. The jagged bark digs into my shoulders, scraping and scratching, but I don’t really feel the sting. The pain of knowing I just lost Dray forever, assails me. No longer mine, if he ever truly was. Bringing my hands to my throbbing eyes, I rub them with my palms, staunching the flow of my tears from falling.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here. I absently stare at the picturesque view of the park and city in front of me, digging my hands in the ground at the base of the tree. It comforts me and keeps my hands busy from slapping myself silly. Bringing my fingers up, I peer at the cold soil that clings under my nails. Dusting my hands against each other, I try to clear most of the dirt off.
Trent is the father of my child. My Trent. The Trent that I’ve loved for the last seven years. The man that I’m not in love with. The same Trent that can’t put down roots because that is not who he is. Well, this is the biggest root of them all, but I won’t make him be attached if he doesn’t want it. He can walk. In fact, he can go scratch; however, if he wants to be a part of this child’s life then I’ll make it work from a distance because that is where he will undoubtedly be.
Standing, I take a deep breath and begin to walk back home. I will be okay. Eventually. One day.
Walking back to my apartment takes longer because I stroll around, sorting my thoughts. I think about hailing a cab to Dray’s apartment, but then, I’m not sure what to say. I need to let him come to me. If he comes to me.
In my head, I rehearse how I want to tell him this doesn’t change how I feel about him. At first, I think to say that I wish this baby was his and not Trent’s, but then something inside me stops that thought. It’s al
most as if I hear my aunt in my head telling me that, one day, far off, I’m going to look at a little face in front of me and thank my lucky stars that he or she is Trent’s child. God or fate gave me this child. Not Dray’s child. This is who I am supposed to be a mother to, and at that thought, my hands rub the small belly that is beginning to bump up.
Once I’m at the corner of my apartment and shop, I look up to see a tall lanky figure leaning against the front store entrance. His hands are placed in the pockets of his raggedy jeans, and his retro green army jacket looks like it has been used in actual battle. He didn’t even bother to pull his hair back as it falls around his shoulders. When he sees me walking towards him, he stands straight, his eyes red from obviously crying.
When I’m within a couple of feet of him, a solitary tear falls from his eye and he smiles at me. Stepping to me, he shrugs his shoulders and embraces me entirely in his arms. He places his head on my shoulder and silently sobs. At first, I’m lost at what to do, but then, I hug him, rubbing his back with my hands, trying to comfort him. Comforting both of us.