by Cd Hussey
I might be pregnant.
Shrill alarms pierce my brain, warning me of false hope and shattered dreams.
Silencing them, I take another breath.
It's very likely I'm pregnant.
"But how?" my brain wants to know.
Doctors can be wrong. I never sought a second opinion. I'd planned on it, but the shock of Courtney's untimely pregnancy took precedence. So maybe I was misdiagnosed. Maybe Dr. Cooper was wrong.
Holy shit. Dr. Cooper might have been wrong.
My hearts begins to race uncontrollably again and I'm forced to take rapid, deep breaths to calm it.
"Okay," I say out loud, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. "Okay."
So if Dr. Cooper was wrong and I am now, indeed, pregnant, what I do? More importantly, how do I tell Trey? I mean, I know what I'll do. I've always wanted to be a mother. Granted I'd prefer it to be in the context of a loving relationship, but regardless, this is something I want. It's always been something I wanted. What about the man who might now unwittingly be a father? After I told him I was infertile? How do I force this on him?
There's no way Trey wouldn't step up. I mean, I could explain to him that there's nothing he needs to do, that I expect nothing from him, that I will be more than happy to raise our child alone. But that will never fly. I think I know him well enough to know he'd come back to the States with me, that he'd sacrifice his happiness here to take care of his responsibilities.
Can I do that to him? Should I?
Falling back on the mattress, I sigh. At least I have a few days to figure it out. Besides, I might not even be pregnant and stressing over a moot point.
Gently, I cup my still flat belly. "Is there really a baby in there?" I say softly. "If so, hello baby. I hope you're there. I'll be a really good mommy, I promise."
I don't fight the tears as they stream down my face.
~
I must drift off because the next thing I know, a huge BOOM startles me out of sleep. The whole room shakes as what must be an explosion rips through my room. The concussive force alone rattles the windows and makes me cup my ears.
What was that? Are we being attacked?
My body temperature jumps by at least twenty degrees and my heart rate reaches near-bursting level.
I can't do this. Not again. Not without Trey. Not when I might be pregnant.
I have to find out what's going on, and whether or not I need to be running for the hills. Creeping to the door, I turn the knob at an achingly slow pace, and then barely crack the door to peer outside. I'm not the only one peering out my door. It's like a row of gophers peeking out of their holes, including my neighbor.
"Dan," I whisper his name.
He turns to me, wide-eyed and looking a little ashen. I'm sure I look the same.
"What's going on?" I ask.
"I don't know. Did you hear that explosion?"
How could you not hear it? I guess it's as dumb a question as me asking him what's happening. Like he somehow knows more than I do.
"Yeah…"
Two Bit jogging toward us diverts my attention. Carrying a large, automatic gun, his expression is grim yet strangely excited. Trey had a similar expression during the raid at Site J. These men obviously live for this.
"Please return to your rooms," he says, his normally quiet voice booming and authoritative. "Lock your doors and remain inside until further notice."
"What's happening?" Dan asks.
"Car bomb. We're securing the perimeter now."
Gunfire sounds in the background and Two Bit takes off running toward it. That's all I need. I can't close the door quickly enough and might just twist off the deadbolt with the force that I turn it.
As much as I wish Trey were by my side right now, I'm actually glad he isn't. One less person to worry about. He's safer where he is. I hope.
Time passes at an agonizingly slow pace. There are moments when I'm convinced it has stopped completely. Pacing occupies my time for a while, as does peering through the slats of my window blinds. At least there isn't any more gunfire and the compound looks quiet enough. Of course, all I can see is the courtyard and the building facing mine. The chickens scratching in the grass don't seem upset, but then again they're Afghan chickens. This probably isn't their first car bomb.
My heart never slows. In face, I think it increases in pace as time creeps by. My chest actually begins to ache and I'm sweating so profusely, I've soaked through the pits of my shirt. My hands have been wrung so much, my knuckles are red and sore.
If I don't calm down I'm going to work myself into a full-blown panic attack. I need a shot. Or three.
My stomach twists. Scratch that. Not when I'm pregnant.
I stop mid-pace. Oh my God. I am pregnant. I know it. I don't need a second or third pregnancy test to confirm what my gut is telling me.
I'm pregnant. I'm actually pregnant.
A smile spreads over my face and for the first time in the last hour, those butterflies squirming around my entrails are from excitement, not fear.
The smile abruptly drops. I've got to get out of here. Not just this room. This country—Afghanistan. I can't risk my baby's life. Assuming Security actually has this attack under control, what about the next one? As safe as I've felt behind these thick walls—especially the last week—we're always vulnerable. Car bombs, rogue missiles, even our own Afghan security team… I simply can't risk it.
I wish I could drag Trey out of this country with me, but I know if he were here, he'd be eating up every minute of this.
Powering up my laptop, I log into the network, my fingers tightly crossed as I attempt to access the Internet. Sometimes the satellites are sketchy.
The signal isn't great but I'm able to gain access. With a squeal, I quickly type out an email to Sharon—the HR lady who handled all my details coming here. There's a missed email from Trey, but I ignore it. I'll open it later, once I've had the chance to settle down.
I tell Sharon exactly why I need to leave. It doesn't actually take long because she already knows about the Site J event. Knowing my email is confidential allows me to explain why I need to leave. I don't mention Trey, of course, since that's none of her business and not remotely relevant.
I realize this is highly unorthodox, I type at the closing to my email, and understand the strain me leaving will put on Hughes & Ralston and the increased expense to our client. But even if it costs me my job, I really cannot stay here a moment longer.
There is no hesitation as I click send.
Now I just have to wait. And pack.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Within twenty-four hours I'm heading for the SUV to take me to the airfield. No one, not Sharon, not John, not Two Bit, or Junior, or Rick, or even Conrad, question why I'm leaving. They say their good-byes, wish me luck, and that's that.
Once again, only Double D seems to have missed the memo. And he happens to be my escort.
His frown is etched deep into his jaw as he takes my one suitcase. I simply pretend like I don't see it and climb into the backseat. My heart hasn't settled in the last day, I barely slept, I can't stop sweating and I'm pretty sure I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I definitely don't need the stress of dealing with his apparent disapproval.
After he gives me a spiel similar to the one Trey handed out before my first trip in this SUV—a speech that does not make me feel more secure—he twists in his seat to look at me. "I get that you might be freaked out, but shouldn't you wait until Trey gets back before running off? Get a Valium prescription or something? The Doc can hand them out, you know. Keeps a full stash in his cabinet."
"No. I can't. I need to leave."
"Why? I mean seriously, it was just a botched car bomb. It barely touched the exterior wall. This was nothing compared to Site J and I hear you handled that like a champ."
I'm growing more anxious by the second. I have a plane to catch and it isn't like they're going to wait for me. "That was before—"
I shake my head. "Look, it doesn't matter. Can we go?"
"It does matter. Have you even contacted Trey? He didn't seem real clued in when I talked to him earlier."
My heart jumps to my throat. "Did you tell him I'm leaving?"
"No," D says flatly. "And I take it you haven't either."
"I will. As soon as I get the opportunity." And that's what I intend. The right words are out there. Somewhere. I simply have to find them. I never did look at his email. I'll do it at the airport…
Right now, my heart is threatening to explode, my palms are a sweaty, clammy mess, and my stomach is twisted so tightly I can barely breathe. "D, if we miss my plane I swear to God I will climb this fence and hitchhike there."
"Fine." The car jerks into gear. Ahead the steel gate looms ominously, like it's guarding hell. I'm pretty sure it is. We pause at the gate while one of the security team—hard to tell which one with the gear covering his face—talks on a Walkie-Talkie. In the guard tower, a silhouette holding a large machine gun appears to respond.
A few seconds pass and then the gate slides open just as my stomach slides into my shoes. The guard waves us on and we roll into enemy territory.
I watch briefly as the compound slips behind us, knowing I'll never see it again. Regret makes my throat constrict. I'll also never see Trey again. Swallowing with effort, I force myself to look ahead. I knew this day would come. It just happened so soon.
My hand rests on my abdomen. This is the way it has to be.
We ride in silence for a while, the desolate landscape whizzing by with endless monotony. Monotony is good, calming.
The air in the car is still tense though, enough that it's making me uncomfortable. I'm shocked D is so irritated by me leaving, or rather, me not telling Trey I'm leaving. I don't quite understand why he cares, but it's eating me that he does.
"You're married right?"
He looks at me in the rearview mirror. "Yeah."
"With kids."
"Yep. Two of the cutest little shits you'll ever see."
"I don't get it."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you want to be with them?"
His massive shoulders lift and then drop. "I see them a couple times a year."
That's exactly the reaction I expected. "I couldn't do that. Why have a family if you never see them? If you're here, why even get married?" My tone comes out angrier than I'd planned.
Brow furrowed, he once again stares me down from the rearview mirror. I'd prefer he kept his eyes on the road and the more he frowns at me in the mirror, the more I find myself watching the road for him. Luckily, it stretches empty before us.
After what seems like an eternity, he turns his attention back to the road.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I just… It's a weird time for me."
"Gotcha."
"So, if you don't mind me asking, why did you get married?"
"I wanted kids."
"But if you never see them…"
"I see them enough. Look, this works for me. I understand why you might not get it. My wife and I have an arrangement. She gets a good life, I get a couple kiddos, a legacy, something to work for. It might not be ideal, but like I said, it works for me."
I wonder if it would work for Trey. The idea of him just throwing money my way and coming to visit maybe once a year makes my stomach twist into a gnarly knot. I'd hate it, but maybe that isn't my call to make.
"I understand," I say quietly, hand pressed tightly against my abdomen. And I do understand. Unfortunately, I hate the truth staring me in the face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't—I'm sorry."
Again he frowns at me in the rearview mirror. "Andrea, is there something you'd like me to tell Trey?"
My eyes go wide. How—? I look out the window. "No, I'll… No."
"Okay."
That's the most unconvinced affirmation I've ever heard. Keeping my mouth shut for the rest of the trip is probably a good idea. I'll figure out how to tell Trey, but it has to come from me, not D.
Watching the bustle of the city as we approach the airfield does little to distract me. I'm mentally planning the next few days. Make a doctor's appointment, find a temporary place to stay, figure out where I'm going to live, start my new life…
Sharon assured me I have a job waiting for me after I take some leave. She insisted on setting me up with a shrink and I'm pretty sure she's worried I have post-traumatic stress or something. Hell, maybe I do, but to be honest I'm actually more excited than anything. A new life. I am truly starting a new life. One I'm looking forward to.
The airfield is just as busy and dusty as I remember. We park and walk toward the Tarmac, D carrying my suitcase. It still amazes me how pretty much everything I own now fits into one piece of luggage. I guess I'll be rectifying that soon enough.
D handles the security check-point and check-in procedure, doing all the talking and transferring of documents. He's professional and obviously knows his job. Weird that only a few days ago at the pool he wouldn't have been able to walk unassisted. It's even weirder I'll never see him again. Or any of them.
I swallow against the regret rising from my core.
D turns to me. "You're all set."
I nod. For some stupid reason, tears have set up camp in the corners of my eyes.
He offers his hand and I take it. I'd prefer a hug over a hand-shake. This feels so formal.
"It was a pleasure working with you, Andrea." Not Hermit Crap, or H.C., or even H. I guess I should be glad he didn't call me Ms. Ellis. "I really wish you'd waited until Trey returned."
I look away. Those tears are threatening to break camp. "It's too late now."
"I guess so." A terse nod and he turns and walks away.
Luckily, I'm able to contain the tears until I'm seated and staring out the plane window. I can't believe this is it. Maybe I should have waited. This feels so rushed.
I wrap my arms around my waist. I can't change it. Besides, had I waited, it would have just made things harder. If I actually had to say goodbye to Trey…? I don't know if I could handle it. At least not without turning into a blubbering idiot.
I slide the window shade down and leave it down, even after we arrive in Dubai. And if I could somehow keep a window shade between me and the world until I'm firmly back in Kansas, I would.
~
It's an exhausting thirty-six hours of travel time until I trudge into the Kansas City airport, feeling like my airplane used me as a speed bump on the landing. At least during the multiple layovers, I'm able to make my doctor's appointment and arrange to stay with my friend, Sarah, in her Midtown bungalow. My fallback plan would have been to stay with my parents in the affluent, sometimes pretentious Kansas City suburb I grew up in, but only as a last resort, and only if all the extended stay hotels happened to be booked.
I think about how I'm going to tell Trey, I really do. It just never seems to happen. Every time I start to mentally compose my message, something comes up. I'll do it when I get settled in Kansas City, I swear.
I haven't quite brought myself to read his email either.
My last plane finally lands at eight p.m., or at least that's what the pilot claims. It could be midnight for all I know. It feels like midnight. I'm pretty sure I'm inside a time vacuum.
Luckily, Sarah stands outside the gate, a huge grin on her face, a sign with my name in one hand—written in colorful marker and decorated with flowers and hearts—and a bottle of wine in the other. Single, with no plans for marriage or children, Sarah was my go-to going out girl. When all my other friends were having babies and moving to the suburbs, I could count on Sarah to see shows with me or simply paint the town. I can't recall (literally) how many cocktails we've enjoyed together over the years.
She bounces up and down giddily as I drag myself over. When I'm within ten feet, she bounds forward and embraces me.
"I'm so glad you're back!" she cries, hugging me tight and weaving back and forth.
Her enthusiasm is almost enoug
h to make me smile—if only the muscles in my cheeks weren't too exhausted to lift the corners of my mouth.
Pulling back, she holds up the wine. "I have the vino!" She looks me up and down. "Though one drink looks like it'll put you under the table."
"I'm sure it would. I can't drink it anyway though."
"Why? You on some sort of psych meds or something?"
"No. Why don't we grab my suitcase and I'll tell you all about it on the ride home."
I tell Sarah everything, and I mean everything. It feels good to be able to unload all the details from the last several weeks and not just the ones needed to convince HR to send me home. Even better, as my friend and confident for many years, Sarah actually has a vested personal interest in me. She's absolutely ecstatic I'm pregnant. To the point her joyful squeals hurt my ears. She immediately invites me to live with her, declaring we can raise the baby together. Not my ideal situation, but it has promise.
Unfortunately, jet lag takes its toll, and when my mom calls sometime the next morning, my marshmallow brain loses its mind and tells her too. It's a mistake I immediately regret. Not that I don't plan on telling her eventually, but not until I'm actually showing. Or maybe after I've given birth. It's hard to say.
At the moment I'm too tired to care. I barely hear what she says and respond foggily to her endless questions. I'm all too happy to hang up the phone.
I sleep until five p.m. and still wake up feeling like I could sleep for twenty more hours. In fact, after taking care of some business—looking for apartments, filling out paperwork for work, scouring the Internet for articles on infertility (although I'm pretty sure I've read all of them already)—I end up back in bed a little after one a.m.
Despite all that, I still don't wake until two p.m. I have an hour to shower and make it to the doctor. Sarah was able to catch a ride with a coworker, so I'm able to borrow her car. Having sold mine when I took the Afghanistan job, it's just one more thing needing to be taken care of.