by Kat T. Masen
“So when you say four months . . . I fell pregnant around . . .”
“March,” he confirms.
FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!
This. Cannot. Be. Happening.
“But it was only one time,” I beg, almost in tears. “I was on the Pill back then and we used condoms.”
“Miss Malone, I always advise my patients that the Pill is only ninety-nine percent effective. You did the right thing using a condom, but even condoms aren’t one hundred percent.”
“Why does everyone say that?!” I raise my voice. “I can’t be pregnant! If nothing’s one hundred percent then why are people having sex?”
“Abstinence is your one hundred percent,” he reminds me.
What a stupid remark. No one is going to abstain from having sex.
“I was with the same man prior to that for five years. I was on the Pill but that’s it. How come I didn’t fall pregnant with him?”
“It could be a number of things. Perhaps you weren’t actually having intercourse during ovulation but most likely you’ve found a male partner with strong sperm that’s extremely compatible with your eggs.”
Dr. Taylor retrieves a pamphlet from his desk, sliding it in front of me. The front has a picture of a woman, and clearly printed are the words, What You Need to Know About Abortions.
A sudden reflex, and I slide it back to him. “I can’t do that.”
“I understand. It’s an option, one that we don’t encourage but sometimes it helps to know your options. You don’t have long though, if that’s the road you want to take.”
“I’m thirty-two, Dr. Taylor. I have a secure job, money saved, and my own place. Well, kind of. I didn’t plan this, I don’t think the father will take this well nor will he be present in the child’s life, but I do know one thing for sure,” I say without taking a breath. “I was raised in a religious family. My sister is a lesbian but my family accepted her choices. My parents will be disappointed in me, but I know deep down inside, this has to be counted as a blessing.”
At that moment I realize this is not a therapy session and I’m not quite sure why I brought up that my sister is a lesbian. Then it dawns on me; I need validation. I can’t be a single mom without the support of my family. Gemma was eighteen when she told my parents she wasn’t interested in men. At first my mom cried for a whole week and even tried bringing nice boys home. Of course, it didn’t work; Gemma was not switching teams. My parents eventually accepted her decision and now they are persuading Gemma and her partner Mel to get married.
If they accepted homosexuality, they can accept that I’m going to be a single mom.
“So I take it you’re not in a relationship with the father?”
“Three words for you, Doc. One. Night. Stand.”
I see pity or maybe even a little bit of judgment in his eyes. He carries on about prenatal appointments, supplements, and other things that are flying into one ear and out the other. In my head, I only see the look on the Jerk’s face when I tell him.
Or maybe I don’t tell him . . .
No, no . . . I have to tell him.
Then there is Marcus.
This is too much to think about, so I opt for a quick escape, head to the nearest supermarket, and fill my cart full of chocolate. The checkout lady is definitely judging me, and I am quick to ease her curiosity.
“I just found out I’m knocked up after a one night stand. I work in the same office as him, plus he’s a jerk.”
“You eat that chocolate girl, and you enjoy it!” she tells me, even discounting my total at the end.
It’s a long walk back to my apartment and as soon as I open the door, the boxes packed against the wall remind me of what’s to come. How could I have a baby when I soon would have no place to live? How could I continue working, and who would take care of the baby? The questions keep flooding my brain until I’m forced to sit down with a migraine of epic proportions.
I fall asleep, and when I wake up, it’s dark outside. My cell lights the room, and I pick it up to read the text.
Marcus: Rain check tomorrow night babe. Haden’s back in town and boy does he have a surprise.
The cell slips out of my hand and onto the floor.
Running fast to the bathroom, I vomit profusely into the basin. My unruly hair is mangled in my face, forcing me to turn the shower on. As the steam fills the bathroom, I undress and stare at my naked body in the mirror. My stomach still looks flat, and even as I turn to the side nothing appears to be different. My breasts, however . . . they look like giant balloons. How did I not notice this before? There is a swell just underneath my nipples. When I touch them, my body jerks at the unpleasant tingle that follows. Even the color looks slightly different, darker.
The steam soon covers the mirror. I climb into the shower and allow the hot water to wash my worries away.
I have to be the adult here; he deserves to know the truth, even if he doesn’t want anything to do with us.
Us.
I will tell him in person.
Tomorrow.
No, maybe Monday.
Or maybe I’ll wait till I’m showing and he works it out for himself.
Yep, I’m screwed any way you look at it.
Chapter Nine
“So, I Facebook stalked him.”
I’m dazed and confused, primarily from the lack of sleep all weekend. Leaving Dr. Taylor’s office that day confirmed that I am fifteen weeks along, pregnant by a man I despise. A stranger, in fact.
The weekend was spent panicking, planning, more panicking, and eating way too much chocolate. It wasn’t the next five months that I had to worry about, it was the rest of my life.
Was I even mother material? When I was fifteen, I changed my cousin’s diaper and got shit all over her face. The little brat wouldn’t keep still. Then, when I realized there was shit on the blanket, I threw it in the trash and told my auntie we left it at the park.
I’m going to be a terrible mother.
Vicky is sitting on my desk, crossed-legged and shoving her cell in my face. I push it away in dismay, not wanting to deal with anything and trying my best to ignore the dry heaving. It’s Monday morning, and the office buzz is that Haden is officially back in town. Even Dee looks nervous, although I don’t know why since she has moved on with someone old enough to be her dad.
“You don’t look well,” Vicky sympathizes, handing me a bottle of water.
“Would you feel well if the man whose life you’re going to turn upside-down is just about to walk through that door?”
“You have a point. So don’t you want to know more about him?”
“I don’t think now’s the time.”
Vicky ignores me. “He’s into extreme sports.”
“Aren’t most guys?” I place my head down on my desk, resting my eyes for a brief moment.
“He loves animals. Has two dogs, Marley and Max. They’re Yorkshire Terriers.”
“Really? That’s kind of . . . feminine,” I mumble into my arm.
Vicky laughs, agreeing. “His favorite TV show is Top Gear.”
“Such a guy show.”
“Oh, and he plays the guitar.”
I raise my head slowly, blinking at the bright fluorescent lights. “Hmm . . . kinda hot.”
I cover my mouth immediately as if I was caught saying a naughty word. Vicky laughs but stops as soon as we hear the muffled voices. I try to shoo her away, turning around so I am facing the computer and pretending that the words on my screen actually make sense, when in reality, my nervous system has gone into meltdown mode.
“Hey, Babe!”
Marcus turns my chair back around and plants a juicy kiss on my lips. Without seeming too obvious, I pull away from him and flash a fake smile, a sign of endearment to cover my nerves.
He slides his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in again. This is not appropriate work behavior so I gently scold him. He appears annoyed, but I ignore his childish behavior.
The Jer
k is standing beside him.
My eyes are heavily studying the pile in the carpet and slowly but steadily move up and trace his shoes. They are shiny black with a slight point. Perhaps a size ten . . . you know what they say about big feet. Move on! His pants are navy, tailored to enhance his lean physique. Making sure my eyes avoid his crotch, I slowly scan the buttons on his shirt until I have no choice but to acknowledge his face. My eyes linger on his lips; they are full and deliciously pink, parted slightly to reveal his straight teeth. Just do it . . . just look at his goddamn eyes because everyone is staring at you!
1 . . . 2 . . . 3, and there they are. He is watching, and his simple stare has shot right through me, sitting at the pit of my stomach. Maybe it’s the four months apart, a new hairstyle or new clothes, but something about him is different. He looks . . . well . . . sexy.
This is going to be your baby daddy.
You have to live the rest of your life around this man.
He has no fucking clue I am the devil in disguise right now.
So why is he looking at me with an odd yet familiar stare?
And why are you looking at him like you want him inside you?
There is a woman, or rather, a girl beside him. Standing only just to his shoulders, she smiles kindly and introduces herself as Eloise. She has perfect blonde tresses sitting on her couture dress. With her ruby red lipstick and long dark eyelashes, she is quite a stunning girl.
“Eloise is Haden’s fiancée,” Marcus gloats.
Vicky moves her head in a not-so-subtle way towards me, watching my reaction and yelling with her eyes, “OMG, what the fuck?!”
The shock and enormity of the situation is constricting my vocal cords, forcing me to reach out my hand and congratulate them. I manage to mumble something congratulatory and when Haden’s hand touches mine, I don’t want to let go.
He watches our hands touch and holds on for a second before I pull away. Behind his glasses, his eyes watch me in silence until Vicky opens her mouth, breaking his gaze.
“So you got engaged in London?”
“Paris actually. Haden popped the question and I said yes!” She flashes her ring, which I pretend to be interested in. Something about princess cuts and Harry Winston in the same sentence. Wow, I had no idea he had money since he bummed around so much. Okay, that is not the issue at hand. What the hell is happening here? I mean, did fate just leave another pile of dog shit on my porch or what?
He. Is. Engaged.
You. Are. Carrying. His. Baby.
What is wrong with this picture? Absolutely everything! Words are being exchanged around me yet I’m deaf, falling into a dark hole and wishing I could rewind back to the days when my biggest problem was Jason putting his white socks in with the pile of black ones.
“So we should double date sometime,” Marcus insists.
“Triple date. Find me a man, Marcus,” Vicky adds.
“Hard to find you a man when you’ve slept with the whole city.”
A mini argument starts and I turn to face my computer, fairly certain the contents of my stomach will soon end up all over my keyboard. I have been fortunate enough to avoid morning sickness, but I definitely know things are changing—including my appetite. I excuse myself and rush to the restroom. Vicky follows straight after me.
“You okay? Well, I know you’re not.”
“I can’t do this, Vicky . . .” I pace up and down the small restroom, then rush to the stall to vomit profusely. Vicky is holding my hair, rubbing my back until I flush the toilet and pull myself up.
Back at the basin, I repeatedly splash my face with cold water.
“You can do it because you have to,” she reminds me, gently.
“Vicky, he is getting married. Four months is a short time to meet someone and get engaged but fuck, I can’t ruin his life.”
“You’re not ruining it! You have a baby inside you. That’s a blessing!”
“Then why do I feel like it’s the worst thing that could happen to me?
“Because you’re scared, Pres. My mom was sixteen when she had me. Then eighteen when she had my brother. That’s scary. You’re thirty-two. You can handle this.”
“So even if I can handle it, I don’t think he can.”
“He has time to get used to the idea. The baby is not coming out now. You’re only four months along. Still another five months. Plenty of time,” Vicky reassures me.
I don’t feel reassured. I know Haden well enough to know that this is not in his plan. It wasn’t in my plan either. But I know what I have to do; Haden would see this as the monumental fuck-up that ruined his life.
Marcus is still lingering around my cubicle when I return. He doesn’t seem worried that I disappeared, and instead, makes plans for lunch.
“I won’t be able to go out today. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“It can wait,” he states.
“No, it can’t.” My patience is wearing thin and I just want to be alone for a minute to process my thoughts. “It’s probably best you just go for now.”
“What’s going on with you?” He raises his tone.
“Marcus.” I turn to face him. “I’m at work. I need this job to earn money. We can talk about things later.”
I turn back around, ignoring the fact that he is still standing there.
“Okay, I’ll call you tonight. I love you.” With a solemn goodbye, he leaves my cubicle and finally I have the peace I deserve.
***
Later that afternoon, Mr. Sadler calls me into his office to discuss the manuscript I have been working on for months.
“Good afternoon, Presley,” he greets me.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sadler.”
Taking a seat at the table, he finishes an email he is typing, then turns to face me. Beside his phone is a picture of his wife. She is a pretty lady, and the one time I met her at a work function, she was very nice. There are only pictures of her and who I assume is his daughter. He once told me she lived in Korea with her husband.
“I called you in today to briefly discuss the manuscript you’ve been working on. You’ve got the green light to go ahead with that one.”
“Oh wow! Thank you. That’s fantastic news.”
“There’s just one—”
The Jerk walks into the room without even knocking. Mr. Sadler’s face softens, and he motions for Haden to sit down. Taking a seat beside me, he leans back and crosses his legs accordingly. How do guys do that? Don’t their balls get squashed?
“So, as I was saying before Haden joined us, please go ahead with the manuscript for Fallen Baby. I’d like you to collaborate with Haden on releasing it before the holiday season.”
What the . . . ?
“But . . . but I don’t understand why we need to work on this project together. Besides, I thought he was busy with that sci-fi series that he picked up in London?”
My panicked tone amuses Haden and he cocks his head with a sly grin. From the corner of my eye I can see that he is studying my body and, paranoid, I rest my hands on my stomach to cover the small bump that has grown overnight. Or so I think.
“Haden has been quite efficient and that is already at the printers ready to go. The both of you have strong opinions and together, I think you would make a great team.”
A great team? A great team was Donny and Marie, Sonny and Cher, not Haden and Presley!
Why won’t the Jerk object to this?
“So that’s settled? Okay. I need to head out. Please feel free to use my office if you need to brainstorm.” Mr. Sadler is out of there fast, leaving my mouth gaping, staring in shock at the door.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I snap.
“What do you want me to say? I already had the same argument when he originally asked me,” he responds, too casually for my liking.
“We can’t work together.”
“Why not? We’re both professionals, Malone.”
“Because it’s awkward!”
“Maybe
for you. I’ve swept it under the rug, like you suggested.”
“What?” I shake my head, trying to process the enormity of another pile of shit added to my shitty doorstep. Working with him would mean I would have to talk to him. Interact outside of working hours, and maintain a composed and professional relationship. There is no way in hell this will work, and even if I give it my best, his cocky attitude will only cause another fight between us. This seems all too much and makes me tired just thinking about it.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I interrupt him, noticing the time on the wall.
“I have to go.”
I stand up and walk towards the door without saying goodbye.
“We are supposed to be discussing work. You can’t just leave,” he hisses.
“I have somewhere I need to be. I’ll be back later.”
He doesn’t seem pleased with my answer. “Where?”
It’s not the moment to tell him that I’m off to my 16-week scan. This lying is so draining, so I do the next best thing—I put on my bitch panties and unleash.
“None of your business, Jerk!”
I storm out of the room, then out of the building, hailing a cab as I rush to my appointment.
Flustered, I barely make the appointment and the receptionist ushers me to the room quickly. I’m given instructions to undress and lie on the bed. As I settle in, the sonographer arrives and briefly explains what she’ll be doing today since it’s my first time.
Everything is going according to plan. Baby is measuring right, things and bits are in the correct positions. Not much to report, apart from the lack of emotion I feel. I always envisioned it differently; I’d be holding my husband’s hand as we both cry at the sound of the heartbeat. Instead, I squirm uncomfortably from the gallon of water I am forced to drink while staring at a screen and pretending to know what I’m looking at. Not to mention the copious amounts of warm lube spread all over me.