by Jessica Marx
I hail a cab back to Manhattan and seethe in the back seat the whole way home. The more I think about it, the more furious I become. I’m glad I never told Ryan I was pregnant. I have no clue what would have happened if I did. He might have strung me along the same way to make me feel better or to be a “man” about it, but nothing would have changed. I wouldn’t want it to anyway. I wouldn’t need him to be with me because we are having a baby if he isn’t in love with me. Fuck him. What a dick.
I storm up the stairs to my apartment and pace around. My anger begins to combine with sadness again as I think of everything I had planned for us. I had visions of our future together with this child and they were beautiful. Now, he won’t be a part of that picture—ever. Not after this. I’m going to be raising a child, alone, because I was naive enough to believe Ryan would be my knight in shining armor. I thought he would be my happily ever after, but this ending is a nightmare.
Ryan has always been honest and open. I never had reason to doubt anything he said; I trusted him. I’m glad my acting career is coming to an end before it begins. If Hollywood can change someone like Ryan, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
I curl up on the couch and cry some more. I have never felt so alone in my entire life. Ryan has no idea I’m not on the plane and no one else knows I’m still here. I could call Tara but I don’t want to, not yet. I want to be sad, I want to get mad, I want to scream. I spend the entire day in my apartment on an emotional roller coaster.
My phone rings in the evening. It’s Ryan, and there is no way I’m answering. He leaves a voicemail and I don’t bother listening, I know he’s looking for me. It’s a little later than my arrival time, so I’m sure he’s wondering why I didn’t get off the plane. He sends a text next asking where I am. I don’t bother answering that, either. I have nothing nice to say, and I’m too upset to talk. He’s been playing me long enough, he can have a taste of his own medicine.
A dozen texts and calls, and about two hours later, I give in. I reply to his texts with one response, a photo of the magazine page. I don’t comment, I don’t engage him, just the picture. Then I turn off my phone.
When it starts to get late, I force myself to go to sleep. I have nothing to do for the next two weeks, but I sure can’t spend my time like this. I’ll have to think of something. I’ll also have to make new plans for my immediate future. I’m not showing yet, but I will be soon. I’m going to have to tell people something, and I prefer it not be the truth. I don’t need everyone knowing how foolish I am. I need a new plan.
25
I turn my phone back on the following afternoon to make a call to work and there are a ridiculous amount of texts and calls from Ryan. I scroll through but I already knew what they would say: it’s not true, we’re not together, blah, blah, blah. They look way too cozy in that photo for two friends. I put the magazine away for now so I can stop torturing myself by continuing to look at it. For a moment I feel bad that I’m making Ryan suffer like this, but I don’t let myself. I’m here, pregnant and alone. I should not be feeling bad for his stupid mistake.
I call my manager and leave a message that I’m still in town, in case there are any shifts I can pick up. I text my mom that I’m still in New York. I lie and say Ryan had a change of plans and is going to be shooting somewhere else, so I’m going to go to California a different time. I don’t know how I’m going to explain that one, which is why I sent it in a text. I start to call Tara and then stop myself. I will have to tell her what happened, I’ll call her later. I’m not in the mood to retell the story just yet.
Before it gets late, I go to the grocery store and get a few things. I don’t have much, since I wasn’t planning on being here for a while, and I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Ryan has continued to text and call me, about every hour or so, but I have no interest in talking to him. I get the things I need, pick up a few movies to watch, and head back home.
I heat up some dinner and watch a movie. It works as a temporary distraction, and it’s nice to have my mind on something else, for a change. A drink would be nice right about now, but that’s not happening. Tara calls when I’m about halfway through, but I don’t answer. I’m taking the night off from my own drama. I must fall asleep on the couch just before the movie ends and slip into a much needed deep sleep. I wake in the morning to the sound of the door buzzer.
Tara is here. Under normal circumstances she would not stop by unexpectedly, but then again, she may have called or texted me again while I was sleeping. I stretch and get off the couch to let her in. I try to fix myself a bit—even without looking in a mirror I know I must look like a hot mess. I guess it doesn’t matter. She’s seen me look worse.
I open the door to let Tara in. She takes a look at me, then takes a look at the mess on my coffee table from dinner last night, and the blanket on the couch before walking all the way in.
“What the fuck is going on?” she asks without saying hello. Her tone is more concerned than nasty.
“What do you mean?” I ask stupidly—obviously there is something wrong. I’m here and not in California.
“Seriously?” she replies. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? I thought you were gallivanting around town with Ryan—in California. He called me going out of his mind and I didn’t even know you were here. You have us worried sick.”
“I’m sorry you were worried about me, but Ryan knows perfectly well why I decided not to get on that plane. You didn’t tell him, did you? About me?” I put my hands on my belly in a protective gesture.
“No. No, I didn’t tell him anything,” Tara explains in a soft voice. “Eve, he’s really upset. He had a surprise for you and everything.”
“Yeah, I know. I got it. Luckily I didn’t travel across the country for it,” I answer bitterly, pulling out the magazine and showing Tara the page that is now literally stained with my tears.
She looks at it for a moment before speaking. “Ryan told me about the photo Eve. He said it was a publicity stunt for the movie to create some buzz. The paparazzi love Calista James, and shooting her with her costar allegedly as a new couple gets the people interested. You know how these rag mags work.”
“Why are you taking his side now, Tara?” I ask coldly.
“I’m not,” she says. “I—we—know Ryan. He’s not like that, Eve. He’s an honest guy, and from what he told me, and hearing how upset he is, I believe him.”
“Well, that makes one of us. I don’t believe shit,” I say, sitting down. “He told me he was scared ‘the life’ would change him, and I think it did. Being photographed is one thing. Holding each other like that is another. They don’t look like they’re posing, they look like they got caught.”
“Eve, I am not taking sides. I obviously know your situation, but I’ve also heard his. I trust that Ryan loves you. I know this picture does not represent any reality,” Tara says cautiously, pointing to the photo. “I understand you’re upset, but you should talk to Ryan. You guys are meant to be together—we all know it. You owe it to yourself, and if not for you, do it for your baby. Ryan is the father, and if for no other reason, you should hear him out for that.”
“I don’t even know if I’m going to tell him about it anymore, Tara,” I reply bitterly. “He seems to have moved on, and I don’t need to look desperate trying to get him back. I’ll work it out on my own,” I finish sounding more determined than I feel.
“You have to tell him, Eve,” Tara grits. “Even if you hate him, he’s the father and has a right to know. You are, or were, in love with him. Don’t you think it’s worth hearing him out?”
In my heart I know she’s right, but I’m too upset right now to acknowledge or think about it. I feel like a fool, and I don’t need this child to be a constant reminder of that. I don’t want to think about having Ryan involved in my life forever because of our baby, nor do I want to think of him wanting nothing to do with it.
“I need time to think, Tara. If he doesn’t want to be with me, why should I bot
her him with it?” I ask.
“He does want to be with you, Eve. That’s what you don’t understand. With or without the baby, he loves you. I wish you would just talk to him.”
“I can’t. Not now. Maybe not any time soon. I have my own life to figure out now, and a baby, too. Everything is about to change—everything. I didn’t have Ryan before, and if I don’t have him now, I’ll manage.”
“Fine, Eve. But I think you’re making a mistake,” Tara warns. “I love you and I’ll be here for you, but I don’t agree—at all.”
“You’re either with me, or against me, Tara,” I reply, my eyes full of tears. “I just need time, and I need you to keep this baby a secret long enough for me to decide what the hell I’m going to do.”
“I’m with you, Eve.” Tara smiles gently at me.
We hug, but there is still tension between us. It will dissipate over time, but we both know it’s there. I need Tara right now. She’s the only person in my life that knows the whole truth. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to feel alone. Maybe I will tell Ryan at some point, but right now, I just don’t know.
26
Days and weeks pass, and I am still in a confused state. Ryan has continued to call me almost every day, even though I refuse to answer. If he doesn’t call, he sends a text, which I also ignore. On a couple of occasions I block his number from my phone, but then I unblock it again, although I’m not sure why. I think to myself that if he really wanted to see me, he would just come here and show his face.
My thought is answered by one of Ryan’s texts that says: We are coming to the end of the shoot and they have us on set almost every day. I just want to be with you. I wish I could come and see you. If you could look into my eyes, you would know without question that I love you. The minute they let me go, I am coming to see you.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I’m sure he has at least a few weeks before they finish shooting the film. The movie won’t be released for another several months, and already Ryan’s name is becoming known. I keep seeing him mentioned more often in the magazines and on television. His popularity is gaining because of his connection to Calista, and more so because of his looks. He is surely handsome enough to become the focus for lusting fans everywhere, and he has the body to match.
Tara keeps trying to convince me that if Ryan doesn’t want to be with me, he wouldn’t be contacting me all the time. I just think he feels bad about how it happened. Maybe he did want to be with me, but he lost that chance by being with someone else. She still wants me to give in and talk to him. Even though she hasn’t told me, I know she has been keeping in touch with him. I trust her enough that I’m sure she hasn’t told him about the baby, though, which is all I care about. She can talk to him as much as she wants, as long as that doesn’t happen.
I’ve noticed over the last week or so that I’m starting to show. Luckily it’s still cold out, so it will be easy to hide for a while longer. My pants are much tighter—actually, they’re barely buttoning—but with a big top on, no one will notice. My butt seems to be growing at the same rate. I’m sure others will think I’m just getting fat.
I haven’t seen my parents in a couple of weeks. I don’t want to lie to them—I actually want to tell them, but not until I have to. They’re not going to take the news well when I say there is no father in the picture. At least they’d never know who the father actually was…
Since that’s my plan right now, I’m just procrastinating until I have no choice. I haven’t seen any of my friends other than Tara for a while. I can’t drink, so I don’t want to go out. I’m not sure if it would raise suspicions or not, but I also don’t want to have to lie to everyone.
I’m still working at the bar, and I think I can handle it for a little while longer. Once I start really showing, though, it’s going to be over. Then I will have no choice but to tell my parents that I’m pregnant. If I don’t have an income, I can’t keep the apartment, which means I’ll also have to ask them to move back into the house. I’m not looking forward to that conversation at all.
I just got home from the bar and I’m putting on my pajamas when the phone rings. It’s Tara, so I pick it up.
“Turn on your television right now,” she says before I have a chance to speak.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Just turn it on to channel seven,” she answers excitedly.
I put my TV on and see the late night talk show host laughing at his desk and almost crap my pants when I see Ryan sitting next to him. “Holy shit,” I say, stunned seeing him on television like this. He looks so handsome. I miss him. I wish he hadn’t screwed things up so bad.
“I know!” Tara replies enthusiastically.
We sit on the phone in silence, watching the interview. Ryan and the host are doing the whole question and answer thing about the movie, adding in their own silly banter. I’ve seen Ryan in some photos and a shot of him here and there on television, but nothing live like this. I don’t know if it’s my hormones, but I’m getting emotional watching him. For the first time since our “breakup,” or whatever you would call it, I find myself longing for him.
The interview goes on for about five minutes. The host asks Ryan about his relationship with Calista James and I stop breathing. I’m pretty sure Tara does on the other end also. We listen together to his answer. He stares into the camera while he replies: Calista and I are costars, nothing more. I know America wishes we were together, but I only have eyes for one woman. I’ve loved her since the day we met, and I will never stop.
My eyes fill with tears. I want him to be talking about me. I want to believe him. The host makes a joke about who the woman is and where he is hiding her, and then they move on. I forget Tara is on the other line until she speaks.
“Damn girl, what did you do to that man?” she asks. “He just announced on national television that he’s in love with you.”
“He could have been talking about anyone,” I say stubbornly. “Did you know he was going to be on the show?”
“Yeah, he told me to watch, and now I know why,” Tara admits.
“I knew you were still keeping in touch with him,” I reply. I’m more annoyed than angry, “He doesn’t know, Tara, does he?”
“No, Eve. I swore I wouldn’t tell him and I haven’t. You’re running out of time, though. You aren’t going to be able to hide it much longer. Our friends are starting to wonder where you’ve been and why you don’t hang out anymore. What are you going to tell everyone?”
“I don’t know. Right now, my plan is to say I went on a couple of dates with one of my regulars at the bar. One thing led to another, and here I am.” I’ve honestly been thinking about it a lot. It’s the best I can come up with.
“I still think you’re making a mistake,” Tara says for what feels like the hundredth time.
“I know you do. I have to go to bed. I have to work lunch tomorrow, and it’s getting late. Goodnight,” I say.
“ ‘Night,” she replies, sounding defeated once again.
I lie in bed, replaying Ryan’s interview in my head. He has to be talking about me. I know in my heart he is, but in my head, I don’t want to believe it. Calista is beautiful and famous, and I’m sure she can be seductive and intimidating. I wouldn’t blame Ryan if he fell for her—even just once. But I can’t get past that fact.
Seeing him on the show, though—it reminded me of the old Ryan. He seemed so real, so Ryan. I hold my belly and think of what Tara says, that I’m making a mistake. She might be right. I feel my emotions starting to shift somewhat for the first time. I did love Ryan, and he loved me too. I should be able to move past what I saw and trust him again like I once did. I’m just not sure yet.
27
After the interview I wrestle with myself, trying to decide if I should call Ryan or not. He was so believable and if he was talking about me, I should respond. I mean, he did publicly profess his love for me. But then I would have to tell him I’m pregnant. That c
ould ruin everything he has going for him now. I’m not sure I want to do that to him, especially if it’s not me he is in love with.
Two weeks go by with no contact from him at all. I feel deflated. My feelings toward him had just started to turn the corner, and now he is gone. I don’t know why and I’m afraid to find out, I may have lost my chance. Maybe I ignored him for too long and he moved on—who would blame him?
I’m not sure if Tara is still keeping in touch with him. I haven’t asked her yet because I’m kind of scared of what she’ll say. I will be heartbroken if he really has moved on. I thought he did with Calista, but he denied it the whole time. If he admits he’s found someone new, I will go through the same turmoil all over again. I’ll have to ask her the next time we’re together. She doesn’t mention Ryan unless I ask, anyway.
I’ve been back to the doctor for my follow up appointment, alone this time, and everything is going perfect, as far as the baby is concerned. I ask for a referral for one of their affiliate offices on Long Island. Although I haven’t made plans yet, my time in Manhattan is coming to an end soon. My belly has officially “popped” and there is going to be no more hiding behind anything. The nurse says I finally look like I’m carrying. I’ll be lucky if I can get by for another week or two, but that’s pushing it. Tara said my face looks like it changed, too. Winter is pretty much over and I will have to trade my sweaters and cover ups for t-shirts, and then there will be no denying it.
I also have to let them know at work. They won’t want me pregnant behind the bar. It doesn't look good for me or them, and I understand. They may have noticed something is up already. I’ve traded my tight top for more baggy clothing. They haven’t said anything at this point, because they probably just think I’m getting fat and don’t want to insult me. I only have a small amount saved up, which means I’m going to have to move out. Tara mentioned a friend of a friend who would love to sublet the apartment, so that’s probably what I will do until the lease is up.