by Vivian Wood
Now I understand quite exactly what Honor faced when her choreographer didn't want her child.
Is it enough that I would try to blackmail Calum and cause a ton of trouble? Maybe not. But maybe if I did intend to keep the baby…
Especially Calum's baby…
I can feel myself begin to sweat just thinking about that. I don't have many opinions on abortion, of course. I wasn't raised with religion in my house. My dad was the final arbitrator of every argument and having a God above him wouldn't have really suited his purposes.
But the prospects of facing my own abortion, even a very early one that didn't require surgery… that is really off-putting.
Not to mention the fact that while I didn't feel that abortion was wrong, I had to question the fact that I would be could into that position. I believe that plenty of women have controlled their reproductive rights in any way they saw fit. But for me, having the baby of a billionaire wasn't quite like having no choices.
Or was it? I didn't know.
A painstaking twenty minutes passes. I feel time passing so slowly that it’s agony. By the time he opens the door again, I am practically sick with the need to know the results of my lab work.
Dr. Partridge opens the door and beckons me in. “Come in, Kaia. Come sit back on the examination table, if you will.”
I do as I'm told, nearly lightheaded with worry. The doctor clears his throat as I sit down.
“I just got your blood tests back. And it does appear as though you are pregnant. You're also quite anemic, but I feel like that's the less important of the two diagnoses.”
I dropped my face into my hands, my heart pounding in my ears. I can't think of the right thing to say so I don't say anything at all.
All I can think about is the look of deep disappointment on Calum’s face if I were to tell him that I got pregnant.
I mean, that would be the end of us as a couple. He's made that perfectly clear.
I feel vaguely sick inside.
Dr. Partridge is quiet for a moment. “You said you are on birth control.”
I nod, too stunned to speak.
“You have to stop taking that right now. Even if you choose not to go forward with the pregnancy, I advise you to take a break from taking the pill. Oh, and use condoms as your method of backup birth control. Okay?”
I nod.
His face crinkles. “Is this a surprise? Or have you been trying to get pregnant?”
I suck in a breath and lift my head out of my hands. Tucking a strand of my hair back behind my ear, I slowly speak. “It was unplanned.”
“All right.” For his part, Dr. Partridge does have a killer poker face. He just keeps asking questions, not attaching any particular feeling to any answer he receives.
Then again, I have a feeling that this is far from his first patient with a surprise pregnancy. It's got to have happened before at the ballet.
“Well, you have a few options. You can keep the pregnancy. You can terminate the pregnancy as long as it is before the four month mark. Or you can think about it.” He refers to my chart. “It says here that the last period you remember having was almost two months ago.”
I nod. “Yeah, that seems right. But you know dancers… we don’t always have regular periods.”
He nods and makes a note in my chart.
I'm still in shock, still trying to figure out how I let this happen. “I took every pill exactly the way that you're supposed to. I set alarms on my phone for God's sake. I did everything right.”
Dr. Partridge gives me a careful smile. “Birth control is never one hundred percent effective. Unplanned pregnancies happen to a lot of women. It isn’t a big deal unless you want it to be. Okay?”
My eyes widen. Everything he’s saying seems like he is just telling me what I want to hear. Still, I nod. “Okay. Thanks, Dr. Partridge.”
“I’m going to give you a few pamphlets about your various choices and then we should go through them together. I want to make sure that you feel empowered to make your decision.”
Funny, I have never felt quite as powerless as I do right now. My eyes well up and my voice breaks. “Okay.”
Dr. Partridge frowns a little and gives me a tentative smile. “It's going to be okay.”
I wipe at my eyes, nodding. “Do you think that I could come back and see you tomorrow? You’ve just given me a lot to think about right now.”
The doctor sighs and crosses his arms. “As long as we are very clear about the fact that you don't want to be taking any more birth-control pills. And you should take an iron supplement and a multivitamin. Just for your general health, not for anything specifically pregnancy related.”
He pulls out his prescription pad and scribbles on it, tearing off the page and handing it over.
I push myself to my feet, grabbing my bag as I take the script. “I will take them, Dr. Partridge. I promise.”
The doctor looks at his watch. “Same time tomorrow?” he asks.
My eyes are brimming with tears. I try to control the quaver in my voice. “That sounds good. Thank you.”
I walk quickly out of Dr. Partridge's office and practically run out of the building, trying not to cry.
25
I go to sleep, anxious about the choice I have to make. When I wake up, Calum is gone. I roll out of bed and check my phone. There is a text message waiting for me from a strange number that can only belong to my father.
How he got my number, I don’t know.
One hundred thousand dollars will be enough to silence me for now. We should meet to exchange banking info and talk about the next steps were going to take as a family.
His text makes my stomach drop like a stone. His apparent greed is utterly baffling to me.
It is evident to me that there is no dollar amount that will pacify my father. I don't know if my dad has any idea whether I'm in contact with my mom or not. In fact, I don't know that he would particularly care either way. But there is a little voice in the back of my head, telling me one thing.
If I intend to carry Calum's child, I shouldn't expect my father to act any differently towards his grandchild than he does to words me. He will belittle my kid, make my kid feel like whatever he's doing is not enough, that he can't possibly ever really win.
Everything my father has made me feel for my whole life.
Thinking about that makes me so sad and angry all at the same time. I take a long hot shower and the whole time, rage builds inside my chest.
I like to think that I have become an expert at forgiving my father and ignoring his bad behavior. But the idea that he would replicate that behavior were when he interacts with my kid… that thought just pushes me over the edge.
I turn off the tap in the shower and stand there for a minute, dripping water and making a decision that has been a long time coming.
I have to cut my dad out of my life. Even if I decide not to have Calum’s child, I will have someone's kid, someday. And my dad has proven to me that he can never change.
My mind made up, I quickly dress and text my dad back.
Let's meet right now. Meet me for lunch at Sullivan’s, one hour.
My dad doesn't respond to the text but I wasn't really expecting a word from him. I put on a little makeup and choose an outfit that really makes me feel in charge, an elegant black pantsuit and a thick gold chain necklace.
By the time I walk into Sullivan’s, an upscale eatery, it's been a little more than an hour. I take my sunglasses off and look around the whole restaurant; my father is sitting at the bar, looking right at me with a hard expression.
I am nervous and shaky inside, but I swan over to my father, a smile plastered on my lips.
“You didn't get a table?” I ask.
He glares at me. “This place apparently only takes reservations for lunch. As I didn't have a reservation, I couldn't get a table.” He looks around with a dour expression. “This place doesn't even seem that great honestly.”
I roll my eyes.
“Let me talk to the hostess. I'm sure she can fit us in.”
I turn away and my father calls after me. “I already tried everything…”
When I get up to the hostess stand, I smile evenly at the young girl standing there.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“Yes, I'm using the Fordham standing reservation. Just two people, for lunch.”
The hostess his eyes widened a little. “Of course, Mrs. Fordham. I'll just check and see which table you should be at…”
I smile blandly at her, not feeling any need to correct her even though she obviously has the wrong idea about my relationship with Calum. She soon leads the way to a big table in the corner of the restaurant, well lit by the two huge glass windows just behind it. I cock a brow at my father as the hostess leads me over there, gesturing for him to follow me.
When we are seated at the table, I push my menu to the side and fold my hands in front of me on the table. I look across the white linen setting to my father, giving him that same bland smile.
My father ignores me, burying his face in the menu. “Is it too early for a drink?”
I repress an eye roll. “I’m sure that the waitress will be happy about you ordering one.”
My dad lets his menu drop a few inches as he casts an eye over me. “You seem like you’re in a hurry. Hopefully not too much of a hurry for a drink.”
I fold my hands in front of me. “I’m not really in the mood. Besides, I’m not even old enough to order any alcohol.”
My dad smirks at me. “Ah, that doesn’t matter. You’re with your father! And daddy wants you to get something expensive.”
I give him a grim smile.
“So?” I say, changing the subject. “You want to talk about money?”
He clears his throat and produces a business card, pushing it across the table at me. I peer down to find a bank account and routing number scrawled across the back.
“That's where you can send it,” my father says. He leans back in his chair, throwing an arm over the back of his seat.
I look up at him, my lips thinning. “I’m not interested in knowing what account you wish was more full. I came here to have a talk with you.”
He has the audacity to look surprised. He leans forward again, his fingers playing with the stem of his water glass. “Oh?”
I look him dead in the eye, my heart fluttering in my chest. But when I speak, it's slow and sure, my voice steady as can be.
“I don't want your banking information. I don't want anything from you, actually. I came here to tell you that as of right now, you can consider our ties severed. I have paid you an exorbitant amount of money by now. And I don't intend to pay you another cent.”
His expression instantly darkens. “You better fucking do what I tell you to do.”
I raise my hand, stopping him mid threat. “I don't want to hear it. From here on out, from the moment that I walk out the door of this restaurant, you can consider me a ghost. You can't call me. You can't find out where I live and show up on my doorstep. We will not have any kind of relationship. You have made it abundantly clear to me that nothing is ever enough. So I am cutting you off and making a new life for myself.”
He gives an astonished scoff. “What? I don't think I heard you correctly.”
I place both my hands on the table, fanning my fingers out. “Enjoy your lunch. It's on me. But that will be the last thing you ever get from me. No more information. No more phone calls. No more text messages. Nothing. I never want to see your face again. Have I made myself clear?”
His face grows redder and redder as I continue my speech. When I am done, he stands up, wrinkling his napkin and throwing it down on the table in front of him.
“This is unacceptable,” he sneers. He leans in closer, pointing at me, spittle flying. “I am your father. You owe me. You'll always owe me. You wouldn't even exist if I hadn't made your mother keep you…”
That gives me pause. Mom was thinking about having an abortion instead of giving birth to me?
It makes sense, honestly. If I had been in her shoes, I might have decided to cut and run instead of letting this monster pull me down.
“You have me to thank for your entire life,” he growls. “All I'm asking for is a little repayment for my hard work raising you.”
I give him a cool smile. “I don't even know if what you just said is the truth or not. Honestly, I don't care. Take one last look at me, because you will never see me again. I am taking care of myself now and part of that is cutting you out of my life forever.” I pause, sucking in a breath. “Goodbye, dad.”
I grab my purse and stand up, turning away. My dad lunges at me and grabs my arm but I shake him off and shoot him a look so venomous that he takes a half step back.
“Kaia…” he utters.
I give him a tiny shake of my head and hurry away, my pulse pounding as I go. I hear him call my name again but I don't look back.
When I step outside, I put my sunglasses on to hide the sheen of tears in my eyes. But I don't look back. I don't second guess myself.
My dad is toxic, and that's not going to change. So I have made my decision and damn if I'm not going to see it through.
26
Termination of a pregnancy: an in-depth explanation of a medical procedure.
I look down at the pamphlet in my hands, the letters white against a purple background. That doesn't sound like light reading to me. So I readjust my seat in the back of the limousine and shuffle the pamphlets I am holding.
Pregnancy: a glimpse into a fascinating natural process.
I open the pamphlet and begin pouring over the pictures I'm presented with. There is a picture of an embryo in a gestational sac and a drawing of a pregnant woman, with her fully formed baby inside of her stomach.
I feel like this pamphlet is only giving me a partial view. It's not telling me how I will go through hormonal changes, experience my feet swelling, or how bad my morning sickness could be. It's not being brutally honest about how painful labor can often be.
And of course, how can it be telling me the whole truth about how Calum will feel when I tell him about the fact that I messed up and got pregnant? The answer is that it can't.
I stare out the window as the limo gently pulls to a stop at the curb outside the New York Ballet. It's only when the driver gets out of the car and starts walking around to open my door that I hurry to shove the pamphlets in my duffel bag. I slide out of the car and thank the driver, feeling like my head is simultaneously completely empty and yet jammed full of thoughts at once.
As I mindlessly head into the dance studio, I know that what I'm doing now is not good for me. Well, not good for the baby, anyway. I definitely haven't talked to Dr. Partridge about keeping it and still dancing. But I'm pretty sure that he would agree that my usual schedule of punishing dance classes and running several miles every day would not be the optimal thing for a mother-to-be.
That is, if I am to be a mother. I’m as unsure about that as I am about anything in my life right now.
I'm not as early as I usually am and I find that the dance studio is almost full when I get there. I exhale and toe off my shoes, leaving my duffel bag on the floor of the studio. I need to grab a couple new pairs of ballet slippers. So I had across the wood floor, my head down as I head towards the shoe room.
On my way out the door, I encounter Manon and her flying monkeys. Manon steps back to let me exit the room but her friends are not as accommodating, bumping into me and giving me little glares.
Manon shrugs apologetically but doesn't say anything as I pass. Did I dream our last interaction? It seems that nothing has changed between us lately.
Drawing in a deep breath, I make my visit to the shoe closet as quick and painless as possible. It takes me a couple minutes to hunt down my exact size in three different brands but I am soon on my way back into the studio.
When I open the door, I immediately notice three of Manon’s friends crowded around where my bag
is on the studio floor. They are looking at the pamphlets I stuffed in my bag.
Jesus christ. How embarrassing.
“Hey!” I call out. I stride toward them, my face growing red. “Hey! What are you doing?”
They look up, their faces full of laughter. One of them, a slender and petite dancer named Marguerite, thrust her hand out and waves a pamphlet at me. “So I guess you're knocked up?”
I bare my teeth at her and snatch the pamphlet out of her hand. “Mind your own fucking business. Don’t you have a broom that you should be preparing to ride into the harvest moon or something?”
Marguerite sneers and holds up her phone. “I’m going to tell everybody. Especially the administration. God, can you even imagine how Basil will probably react?”
Out of nowhere, Manon swoops in and stands beside me. “Kaia only has those pamphlets because she went to health services with me and she wanted to make sure that I had all the information I needed to make a decision. I’m the one that is pregnant, not her. Okay?”
Her three friends couldn't have looked more shocked if they tried. Marguerite blinks ten times as she tries to wrap her head around this new piece of information.
“Wait, so…” She works out what she's going to say. “Those pamphlets are for you? You're pregnant?”
“Are you just going to stand there and repeat back to me what I just said?” Manon taunts. “It's a private matter between me and my doctor. The two of us are dealing with it. Is that clear?”
Marguerite swallows. She glances at her two friends and then nods. “Okay. Sorry?”
Manon is not done. She senses weakness in her quarry and now goes on the offensive, backing her friends up by stepping closer. “You shouldn't be going through anyone's private things. Especially not when you still haven't nailed that combination from three days ago. I would think that you would want to make sure that your side the street was perfectly clean before you started walking around and pointing fingers at other people’s trash.”