Toxic Bachelors

by Danielle Steel

  “On Yom Kippur, I think,” she said softly. They had been careful ever since. It was the only time they hadn't been. Since then, without knowing it, they had been locking the barn door after the horse escaped, or got in, or something like that.

  “Oh, great,” he said, tossing the vacuum down at his feet. “On Yom Kippur. My mother was right. I should have gone to synagogue, and I never should have called you.” He threw himself into a chair as she started to cry.

  “That's mean.”

  “It's meaner for you to be pregnant and not tell me. When were you going to tell me, for God's sake?”

  “I just found out this morning. I didn't want you to get mad. I was going to tell you tonight.”

  And then suddenly he looked at her and realized what she had said. “Yom Kippur? Are you kidding? Yom Kippur was in September. This is January, for chrissake. Do you mean Chanukah?” She wasn't Jewish, she obviously had her holidays mixed up.

  “No, Yom Kippur. It had to be that first weekend when I came over. It was the only time we weren't careful.”

  “Wonderful. Did you notice that you didn't get your period for the last three months?”

  “I thought I was nervous. I've always missed it a lot. Once I didn't get it for six months.”

  “Were you pregnant?”

  “No. I've never been pregnant till now.” She looked devastated.

  “Terrific. A first. We just don't need this headache, Maggie. And when you get an abortion, you'll be crying and whacked-out for the next six months.” He had been through it all before, too many times. He didn't want to go through it with her, or with anyone ever again. And then he looked at her darkly, with suspicion on his face. “Are you trying to trap me into marrying you? Because that's not going to work.”

  She jumped off their bed then, and stood glaring at him. “I'm not trying to trap you! I never asked you to marry me, and I won't now. I got pregnant. This is your fault too, not just mine.”

  “How the hell could you not know you were pregnant for three months?” It was unbelievable. “You can't even get an abortion at this point. Not easily anyway, it's a big deal after three months.”

  “Well, then I'll deal with it. And I wasn't trying to marry you!”

  “Good! Because I won't!” he shouted at her, and with that she stormed into the bathroom, and slammed the door in his face.

  She was in there for two hours, and when she came out, he was in bed, watching TV, and didn't say a word to her. Neither of them had had dinner. She had thrown up when she was in the bathroom, crying on her own.

  “Is that why you got sick on the boat?” he asked without looking at her.

  “Maybe. I kind of wondered, and when I got sick when we got back, I thought maybe it was. That's why I did the test.”

  “At least you didn't wait another six months. I want you to see a doctor,” he said, finally looking at her. She looked a mess. He could see that she'd been crying, her eyes were red, and her face was pale. “Do you have a doctor?”

  “I got a name from a girl at work,” she sniffed.

  “I don't want you seeing some quack. I'll get a name tomorrow.”

  “And then what?” she asked, sounding scared.

  “We'll see what he says.”

  “What if it's too late for an abortion?”

  “Then we'll talk about it. I may have to kill you in that case.” He was only kidding, he had calmed down a little, but she burst into tears again. “Come on, Maggie…please… I'm not going to kill you. But I'm upset.”

  “So am I,” she said, sobbing. “It's my baby too.” He groaned then, and flopped down on the bed.

  “This is not a baby, Maggie. Please. It's a pregnancy, that's all it is right now.” He didn't even want to say the word “fetus,” let alone “baby.”

  “What do you think that leads to?” she said, blowing her nose in a tissue.

  “I know what it leads to. That's what I'm upset about. Just get some sleep. We'll talk about it in the morning,” he said, as he clicked off the TV and turned off the light on his side of the bed. It was early, but he wanted to sleep. He needed the escape. This was the last thing he needed. This happened to his clients, not to him.

  “Adam?” She spoke softly just as he closed his eyes.

  “What?”

  “Do you hate me?”

  “Of course not. I love you. I'm just upset. This was not a good idea.”

  “What wasn't?”

  “Getting pregnant.”

  “I know. I'm sorry. Do you want me to leave?” He looked at her then, and felt sorry for her. This was going to be hard on her too, especially after three months. He knew there were doctors who did it, but it was a much bigger deal than if you caught it right away.

  “No, I don't want you to leave. I just want to deal with this, as soon as we can.” She nodded her head.

  “Do you really think I'll be a mess for six months?” She sounded worried. This was scary for her too. More than for him. He hated the inconvenience, she had to deal with it, either way. It was traumatic for her.

  “I hope not,” he answered her question. “Just go to sleep.”

  She tossed and turned all night, and when he woke up in the morning, she was in the bathroom and he could hear her getting sick. He stood outside the bathroom door, wincing. It sounded rough.

  “Shit,” he said out loud and went to shower and shave. She came out ten minutes later. He had kept his bathroom door open so he could see her when she did. She looked green. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I'm great.”

  He made her tea and toast when he was dressed, told her he'd call her from the office, and kissed her before he left. And then he thought of something terrifying on the way to work. She was Catholic. What if she refused to have an abortion? Now that really would be a mess. What would he tell his kids? Or his parents? It didn't bear thinking. He made the necessary calls as soon as he got to the office, and called her at work at noon. He gave her the names of two doctors, in case one was too busy to see her, and told her to try and see one of them as soon as she could. She called both that day, used his name as he had told her to do, and got an appointment for the following afternoon. Adam offered to go with her, but she said she could handle it alone. At least she was being decent about it. But they hardly talked to each other that night. They were both too stressed.

  The following night, after her appointment, she was in the apartment when he got home. It was her day off, and she was doing homework when he walked in.

  “How did it go?”

  “It went fine.” She didn't look up at him.

  “How fine? What did he say?”

  “He said it's a little late, but they can say that my mental health is at stake if I threaten suicide or something like that.”

  “When are you doing it, then?” He sounded relieved, and there was a long pause as she looked up at him with huge eyes in a pale face. She didn't look well.

  “I'm not.” It took a long moment for it register, and he stared at her.

  “Say that again.”

  “I'm not having an abortion,” she said carefully, and he could see from the look on her face that she meant it.

  “What are you going to do about it? Give it away?” That was a lot more complicated and took a lot more explaining, but he was willing to do that too, if she preferred. She was Catholic after all.

  “I'm having the baby. And I'm keeping it. I love you. I love your baby. I saw it on a sonogram. It's moving. It was sucking its thumb. I'm three and a half months pregnant. Sixteen weeks, the way they figure it, and I'm not giving it away.”

  “Oh my God,” he said, letting himself fall into the nearest chair. “This is insane. You're keeping it? I'm not going to marry you. You know that, don't you? If that's what you think is going to happen, you're crazy. I'm never getting married again, to you or anyone else, with or without a baby.”

  “I wouldn't marry you anyway,” she said, sitting up very straight in her chair. “I do
n't need you to marry me. I can take care of myself.” She always had before. Although she was terrified now, but she wouldn't admit it to him. She had spent the whole afternoon figuring out how she was going to pay for it. She was determined not to take anything from Adam. She had to do this herself. Even if she had to quit her job, give up school, and go on welfare. She wanted nothing from him.

  “What are my kids going to think?” he said, with a look of panic. “How are we going to explain that to them?”

  “I don't know. We should have thought of that on Yom Kippur.”

  “Oh for God's sake, all I was thinking about on Yom Kippur was how much I hate my mother. I wasn't thinking about a baby.”

  “Maybe it was meant to be,” she said, trying to be philosophical about it, but Adam didn't want to hear it.

  “This was not meant to be. This was both of us being sloppy.”

  “Maybe. But I love you, and even if you leave me right now, I'm having this baby.” She had dug her heels in and she wasn't moving an inch. The sonogram had done it. She was not killing their kid.

  “I don't want a baby, Maggie.” He tried to reason with her.

  “I'm not sure I do either, but that's what we've got. Or what I've got.” She sounded calm and unhappy. It was a lot to deal with, for both of them.

  “I'm going to Vegas this weekend,” he said miserably. “We'll talk about it when I get back. Let's take a break from it till then. Let's both think some more, and maybe you'll change your mind.”

  “I won't.” She was a mother lion defending her young.

  “Don't be so stubborn.”

  “Don't be so mean.” She looked at him sadly.

  “I'm not being mean. I'm trying to be a good sport about this, but you're not making it easy. It's mean to have a baby that no one wants. I'm just not prepared to have a baby, Maggie. I don't want to get married again. I don't want a baby. I'm too old.”

  “You're just too mean. You'd rather kill it,” she said, bursting into tears, and he wanted to cry himself.

  “I'm not mean!” he shouted after her as she ran into the bathroom again, as much to hide from him as to be sick.

  The rest of the week was no better. They stayed off the subject, but it hung between them like a nuclear bomb ready to go off. He was relieved to leave for Vegas on Thursday. He needed to get out. He stayed over on Sunday night. He was waiting for her when she got back from work on Monday. He was sitting in a chair with a look of resignation.

  “How was your weekend?” she asked, but didn't come over to kiss him. She had been upset all weekend, and wondered if he was cheating on her because he was upset. She hadn't left the apartment, and she had cried herself to sleep every night, thinking that he hated her and would probably leave her and she'd be alone with their baby, and never see him again.

  “It was fine. I did a lot of thinking.” Her heart nearly stopped as she waited for him to tell her that she had to move out. She had become an embarrassment to him.

  “I think we should get married. You can come out to Vegas with me next week. I have to go back anyway. We'll get married quietly, and that'll be that.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean, 'that'll be that'? Then I leave, but the baby is legal?” She had thought of a thousand terrible scenarios, and not one good one. He had.

  “No, then we're married, we have the baby, and we live our life. Together. With the baby. Okay? Now are you happy?” He didn't look happy either, but he was trying to do the right thing. “Besides, I love you.”

  “ 'Besides,' I love you too, but I'm not going to marry you.” She looked quiet and determined.

  “You're not? Why not?” He looked stunned. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

  “I never said that. I said I was having the baby. I didn't say I wanted to get married,” she said resolutely as he stared at her.

  “You don't want to get married?”

  “No, I don't.”

  “But what about the baby? Why don't you want to get married?”

  “I'm not going to force you to marry me, Adam. And I don't want to get married 'quietly.' When I get married, I want to make a lot of noise. And I want to marry someone who wants to marry me, not someone who has to. Thank you very much, but my answer is no.”

  “Please tell me you're joking,” he said, dropping his head into his hands.

  “I'm not joking. I'm not asking you for money, and I'm not going to marry you. I'm going to take care of myself.”

  “Are you leaving me?” He looked genuinely horrified at the thought.

  “Of course not. I love you. Why would I leave you?”

  “Because you said I was mean last week.”

  “You're mean if you want to kill our baby. But you're not mean if you ask me to marry you. Thank you for that. I just don't want to, and neither do you.”

  “Yes, I want to!” he shouted. “I love you. I want to marry you! Now will you do it?” He looked desperate, and she looked calmer by the minute. She had made up her mind, and he could see it too. “You are the stubbornest woman I've ever met.” She smiled at him, and he laughed. “That wasn't a compliment. Oh, for God's sake, Maggie.” He came and put his arms around her and kissed her for the first time in a week. “I love you, please marry me. Let's just get married, have the baby, and try to do it right.”

  “If we'd done it right, we would have gotten married, and then had the baby. But you'd never have married me then, so why do it now?”

  “Because you're having a baby,” he nearly screamed.

  “Well, get over it. I'm not getting married.”

  “Shit,” he said, and went and poured himself a shot of tequila, which he downed at one gulp.

  “You can't drink. We're pregnant,” she said primly, and he gave her an evil look.

  “Very funny. I may become an alcoholic before this is over.”

  “Don't,” she said gently. “It'll be okay, Adam. We'll work it out. And you don't have to marry me. Ever.”

  “What if I want to marry you someday?” He looked worried.

  “Then we'll get married. But you don't want to right now. I know it. You know it. And one day the baby would know it.”

  “I won't tell him.”

  “You might.” People did things like that sometimes. I had to marry your mother.… She didn't want that for her child. And she didn't want to take advantage of him, even if he was willing to do the right thing.

  “Why are you so fucking honorable? Every other woman I've ever known wants me to pay their bills, marry them, get them jobs, and do a million other things for them. You don't want shit from me.”

  “That's right. Just your baby. Our baby,” she said proudly.

  “Could they see what it is?” he asked with sudden interest. He didn't want this baby, but as long as they were having it, it might be nice to know what it was.

  “I'm going back in two weeks for another sonogram. They can tell me then.”

  “Can I come?”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Maybe. We'll see.” He had spent all weekend thinking he was marrying her, and now he was almost disappointed he wasn't. Everything about their life right now was weird.

  “What are you going to tell your mother?” Maggie asked him that night at dinner, and he shook his head.

  “God knows. At least now she'll have something to really bitch about. I think I'll tell her that I knocked you up on our first date, and you're Catholic, so she won't want me to marry you anyway.”

  “How charming.” He leaned across the table, kissed her, and smiled at her.

  “Maggie O'Malley, you're crazy to have my baby and not marry me. But I love you. So what the hell. Wait till I tell Charlie and Gray!” He smiled at her, and she laughed as they finished their dinner, and talked about how crazy life was sometimes. Theirs surely was, but they both looked happy that night as they finished the dishes and went to bed. This wasn't what they'd wanted or planned, but they were going to make the best of it, whatever
it took.

  26

  CHARLIE DIDN'T CALL CAROLE AFTER SHE LEFT HIM ON the boat in St. Barts. She sent him a fax thanking him, but she felt awkward calling him, after the things he'd said the night before she left. She had no idea what conclusions he was coming to, the only thing she was absolutely certain of was that he needed space. She gave him a wide berth. It was all she could do. She grew more frightened every day. It was a full two weeks before he finally called her. She was sitting in her office when the phone rang. He said he was back. But he sounded strange. He asked her if they could meet for lunch the next day.

  “That would be wonderful,” she said, trying to sound light-hearted, but she wasn't even fooling herself. He sounded terribly and profoundly upset. He seemed cool and businesslike, and after she'd agreed to meet him for lunch, she wondered if she should cancel. She knew what was coming. He hadn't asked her out to dinner, or said he wanted to see her that night. He wanted to meet her for lunch the next day. Distance. Space. It only meant one thing. He was meeting her to be polite and tell her it was over. The handwriting was on the wall so loud and clear it looked like graffiti. All she could do now was wait.

  She didn't even bother to put on makeup the next morning. There was no point. He didn't care anyway. If he loved her, and wanted her, he would have called her from the boat in the past two weeks, or seen her the night before. He hadn't. He might love her, but he didn't want her. All she had to do now was get through the agony of hearing him tell her. She was a wreck by the time he showed up at the center.

  “Hi,” he said, standing awkwardly in her office doorway. “How've you been? You look great.” But he was the one who looked great, in a gray business suit with a deep tan. After worrying all night, and lying awake, thinking about him, she looked and felt like shit.

  “Where do you want to go for lunch?” She wanted to get it over with, and was sorry now she hadn't called him to cancel. He obviously thought he had to do it in person. He didn't. He could have called her on the phone to dump her. “Do you really want to eat?” she asked, looking discouraged. “Do you want to just talk here?” But he knew as well as she did that there were constant interruptions. Kids walked in, counselors, volunteers. The whole world walked into her office. It was the hub of the wheel.