by W. Winters
“Did you see?” I whisper the question but Bethany didn’t see. That little movement was just for me.
Bethany talks to herself, turning over a page then turning it back again instead of answering. I don’t blame her. I hope she’s close to knowing.
“He’s a little shy of a foot long.” Her exhale is loud before she tells me, “I think you’re around twenty-two or twenty-three weeks. Definitely not twenty-five weeks because he’s not tall enough.” She sounds so certain.
“What if he’s just short?” I ask her, remembering how my grandma used to tell me how small I was as a baby. I was a teeny tiny preemie.
“Umm, I don’t… there’s also… I don’t know for sure but there’s not a lot of fat on him like in these pictures and that’s around twenty-five weeks.”
“So more than twenty-two but less than twenty-five.” So somewhere around June. I have to take my phone out to double-check. But it would have been a date in June. I can’t even begin to think back that far, but I didn’t go on many dates at all this summer and the double-dipping I did was in April or May. That’s what Bethany called my two nights back-to-back with two different men: double-dipping. Technically I was the one dipped, but either way it doesn’t matter. I imagine it won’t be hard to figure out what fling led to this little blessing.
Then there’s the matter of telling the man… and telling Seth.
“Is that something you can live with?” Bethany asks me and it takes a moment for me to understand what she’s referring to. Weeks along: twenty-two to twenty-five.
“Yeah.” I don’t skip a beat before asking her, “When is it safe to deliver?”
“Thirty-seven weeks… some say thirty-eight.”
“What if I get that heart in?” The questions tumble out of me.
“You need to see your doctor.” Her tone practically scolds me as she takes the wand from me, taking another long look at the baby. My little prince.
“I will tomorrow.” I will do everything right starting tomorrow. Every appointment, every pill. Whatever I have to do.
“It’s almost five a.m. love, so you will today, but probably after a nap.”
“Right, I will after a nap. I will today.”
“How far along did your doctor say you were? Based on the hormones?”
“She said twenty weeks.”
“Okay so maybe I’m wrong… but I mean… he’s way longer than ten inches.”
“Maybe he’s just tall then?” I make a joke but it sounds sad.
“Well make up your mind, is this little one going to be short or tall?” Bethany brightens the joke a bit while she cleans the gel off my stomach. “Just go to see your doctor.”
“I can do that,” I offer, those emotions still coming in waves but now exhaustion weighs them all down.
“I’ve got it.” She balls up the tissues and then flicks off the machine. “I’d print you pictures but I don’t know how, so... go see your doctor later today. Promise me.”
“I will. I just…”
Bethany grabs my hand, squeezing it until I look her in the eyes. “I’m here for you and for this little blip.”
“I know.”
“But you have to tell him.”
“I know.” This time when I tell her that, I practically whisper because I don’t want to tell him.
“Do you think he’ll be mad?” she asks nervously, although she tries to hide it.
“I think it will devastate him.” I swear to God I’ll scream if I cry, but that’s exactly what I feel like doing.
“What if… no. No, you can’t lie to him. I’m a fucking awful person for even thinking that,” she says then shakes her head and I let out a small sad laugh.
“I was thinking if it was anywhere near the date, I’d lie. I’m awful too.”
“The truth always comes out anyway.” She offers me a hand to sit up and I take it.
“Just tell him the truth already, get it out so it stops stressing you out.” She emphasizes, “You don’t need that stress. Neither does the baby.”
“I know. You’re right.” My head feels light when I sit up and I have to take a moment to steady myself, crinkling the paper under me.
“You hid from him for how long? You can’t hide this.”
I would say “I know” again, but… well, she gets it.
Bethany questions me, “You think he’ll leave you?”
“I don’t. I think it’s going to hurt him, though. And make him worry about…” I can’t even voice it. Me running. Because it’s what I always do and why would I stay if I’m pregnant with another man’s baby?
Bethany guesses my fear. “He’ll think you’ll leave him?” I can only nod. “Will you?”
“No.” My answer is so firm it’s nearly ripped from me. “I’ll find out who the father is and then he can be a part of his life or not.”
“Seth isn’t going to like that.”
“I know, but that’s what’s right, isn’t it?”
“I think so.”
A moment of silence passes, with nothing but the clock ticking in the background. We have to get going, but I can’t move yet.
“I don’t know how I can look him in the eyes without telling him but I also don’t know how I can tell him this.”
“Well, you have to tell him and if you think it will be less stressful for you, you could write it out now and give it to him. You could call him and let him know. So there’s distance.”
I still can’t answer her.
“There are options and you know the less stress right now for you, the better.” She puts her hand on my stomach and I smile faintly. “This baby has to cook a bit longer.”
“I can’t believe I’m pregnant, much less this far along.” It’s crazy. Life is one crazy journey.
“Well that’s probably a blessing. Looks like you got to skip out on the morning sickness and went straight to the honeymoon phase in the second trimester.”
“Right, the horny phase. And to think I thought that was all Seth’s doing.” I have enough humor to roll my eyes. “Although I really haven’t been eating. I just thought my stomach was messed up.”
“Why don’t you just call him? Let me check out, make sure Cindy is here and I’ll stay with you,” she practically begs me. “I’m here for you. You call him, and I’ll be right here by your side. That way this is done.”
I manage to get off the table, imagining calling him to tell him. I won’t have to see the devastation on his face and it’s selfish, but it’s also a relief. A slight one, at just the thought of ripping off the Band-Aid, so to speak.
“Is that okay? Do you want to try calling him?”
I can only nod a response.
“Good. We can hide in here,” she tells me over the sound of her balling up the paper that was on the exam table. “Just give me a minute to check out and I’ll be back.”
All the while she’s gone, I think about how I’ll tell him.
I’m going to start it the way I want to finish it. I love you more than anything. My hand instinctively moves to my belly, wondering if that will hold true. I speak out loud, imagining his reaction to every word. “I’m not leaving you, unless you want me to.” The third statement comes out stronger than I thought possible, due to the way it fucking kills me.
“I couldn’t sleep tonight, because the doctor called after you left and told me something.”
I stand there, alone in the room, and I say everything from the news about my heart to how far along I am. When Bethany comes back, I say it all again, crying through most of it. And leave it all on voicemail because Seth doesn’t answer.
I’m all right with that. I’ll be home soon. At least I said it all.
I might be with him when he listens to it, but at least he’ll hear it all.
It doesn’t make me feel any better, though. It doesn’t help shield me in the least from thinking my world is crumbling apart.
Seth
The early morning sun peeks out over the horiz
on as Declan’s car drives away, the image of the train station reflected in the rearview getting smaller by the second.
“You going to say anything?” Declan asks with a hint of humor, but the concern drowning in his gaze and the way he keeps glancing at me even though he’s driving and the light ahead is green, says otherwise.
My throat is tight and I clear it, but the unsettling feeling is still there. I can’t even look him in the eyes.
“I can’t.” My eyes feel heavy and the strain of it all is weighing me down even more. “He made me an offer, and it involves silence.” That’s a lie.
“An offer for what?” Declan questions and I let my eyes close as my head falls back.
It can’t be true. It hurts too much to even think about it. Laura is all right. I want the videos from the projector filling the high walls of the warehouse and everything he showed me, to be made up. Just a cruel trick. It can’t be true.
Rubbing at my eyes with my fist to rid them of both the need to sleep and the sight of what Marcus showed me, I try to answer Declan.
“It involves Laura.”
I can feel it happening again, just like it did when I was a teen. The feeling of my world slowly falling apart until there’s nothing left but pain and anger. It’s happening again.
I lie to Declan, staring straight ahead as the light moves more quickly over the skyline and say, “I can’t tell you.” I give him a bit of the truth though and add, “I don’t even know if he’s telling the truth.”
Marcus never said a damn thing about keeping secrets. But what he wants from me… I can’t tell Declan. I can’t tell anyone.
“He threatened Laura?” Declan’s tone is a mix of pissed and troubled. His grip slips on the wheel and he stares at me instead of the road.
I shake my head, unable to voice anything as the images come back. I don’t want it to be true. Swallowing, I prepare to give Declan any bread crumb I can, but that involves speaking about Laura… and I can’t. Not until I talk to her.
The vibrating of my phone in my lap spares me the sorry excuse I was going to give Declan.
It’s her. It’s my Babygirl. The image of her face fills up the screen as the phone rings and I know I can’t answer it. Not here. Not with Declan listening.
I imagine she’s upset with me. She woke up and I wasn’t there. I told her I would be and I wasn’t.
“You going to answer that?” Declan asks, his voice sounding concerned.
Again, I only shake my head. Still holding the phone, unable to let go, but unable to answer just the same.
“What can I do?” he offers and that simple kindness nearly breaks me.
“I don’t know yet,” I say, finally answering Declan honestly. I’ve never felt so lost and helpless. “I have to ask Laura something.”
I don’t know how I’ll even get it out of me. The questions and the accusations are caged deep in my chest.
I feel hopeless, but worse than that, like a traitor. Like I don’t deserve to live.
It’s silent all the while in the car, up until we park and I notice Laura’s car is missing.
It only takes a second to go into my texts and read them. Shit, my heart couldn’t beat for the second spent thinking she’s already gone.
“I can’t leave you like this,” Declan says, giving me the side of him I know too well. The true friend I have in him.
“I’ll be all right,” I say, lying to him again and I know it’s a lie as I pull the handle of the door, letting the wind whip at me as I climb out of his car.
It’s not until I’m inside that I listen to the voicemail and completely break down.
The sick feeling in my stomach that I had before meeting with Marcus is back full force as I stare at the cup of coffee on the end table. The smell of black coffee invades every inch of space as I rest my elbows on my knees and wait. I can’t move off the chair in the living room. I can’t drink the coffee even to stay awake from this brutal night.
All I can do is sit here and wait for Laura to walk through the door.
I believe everything Marcus said after listening to her message.
Her heart. The baby.
She didn’t tell me the timeline though. She kept so much from me.
My head falls into my hands as I do what I’ve done for the last half hour. I wait for her.
Everything is wrong. It’s all wrong. It’s not supposed to happen like this.
I shouldn’t have to make a deal with the devil to keep her alive. I shouldn’t be this helpless and at his mercy. Not over this. Not like this.
I’m supposed to be able to protect her and keep her safe. I have so many regrets. Too many to count.
The churning in my gut intensifies when I hear a car door shut out front.
My heart breaks slowly, but it still beats. I don’t know how it’s possible to still function when I know damn well that it’s shattered.
There are two things that keep me upright. Two things that prevent me from falling to the ground and giving in to the pain like I did eight years ago when I thought I’d lost Laura forever.
She still loves me. She told me she did.
Marcus’s deal.
I might hate myself for it, but if Laura gets to live, I’ll do it. I will do anything to save her.
My phone moves from my left hand to my right when the doorknob on the front door turns. Anxiousness creeps up my throat and suffocates me.
The small creak of the door opening fills the room and then she’s there, my gorgeous girl. It takes everything in me to stay where I am.
She freezes in the doorway, her gaze caught with mine, but the howl of the wind behind her releases us from the moment. The clicking of her boots is all I can hear until she shuts the door, keeping her hand on it and her back to me to speak.
“You got my message?” she asks even though she already knows.
I flip my phone in my hand and do everything I can just to breathe. “Yeah,” I answer her. “Come sit here.” I give her the command although my voice isn’t as strong as I’d like it to be.
The hollowness in my chest seems to grow, the vacant spot filled with agonizing pain.
Laura sniffles at the door, the tip of her nose bright pink but I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or from crying. My poor girl.
Her keys fall onto the foyer table and she kicks off her shoes, leaving them there. Taking her time before coming around to the living room, glancing at the black coffee that’s probably cold by now and not a sip has been taken.
Her blue eyes are glossy as her bottom lip quivers. “Are you…” she starts to say before pausing as she slowly takes the seat on the sofa catty-corner to me. The crack in her voice keeps her from getting it out.
“Are you...” she tries again to question me about something and fails as I sit up straighter, still on the edge of the chair and waiting for her to get it out.
Her long lashes flutter as a silent sob seems to make her breath stutter. “I love you,” she whispers as her expression crumples.
I can’t stand her like this. I can’t take it. In a quick single motion, I take all of her. One arm slipping under her ass and the other around her back. I’m on the sofa with her in my lap before I can think twice.
She’s warm and soft in my arms, so fragile as I hold her.
With her head laying in the crook of my neck I whisper the only thing I’m sure of against the shell of her ear, “I love you too.” Holding on to her as tight as I can, I rock her as she tries to stop crying.
I know the feeling. I understand her when she says she hates crying. I wish I hadn’t cried either, but I can hold it together for her. When she needs me, I’m so much stronger than I am without her.
“Shhh,” I murmur, rocking her back and forth, grateful that I’m able to just hold her finally.
Time passes, and I wish we could fall asleep right here, and wake up to find last night was just a nightmare. A fucking horrible nightmare.
I know better than to pretend thou
gh. Bad things happen when we pretend we’re all right.
“I want you to tell me everything,” I say, speaking calmly and softly.
“Did you listen to it all?” she asks me, her lips brushing against the rough stubble on my neck with her question.
“I did.” Three times and nearly a fourth, but I don’t tell her that extra information.
She’s still in my arms, her chaotic breathing steadying with each deep inhale and exhale.
The sound of her licking her lips steadies me, preparing to do as I ask. Her not running from me… that steadies me even more.
“I need a transplant for my heart and this baby is further along than we’ve been together.”
“Five months,” I cut in, very much aware.
“I think so. I’m going to make an appointment tomorrow.”
“Good, schedule everything. I want to go with you.” I don’t give her the option to say no; it’s not a question. And thankfully, she doesn’t object. I’m on edge wanting to take control but knowing full well that I lack it in the ways that matter most.
“I should have told you everything. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t look you in the eyes and tell you. And I’m so sorry.”
“And the baby?” I don’t even know what my question is.
“I didn’t know that until you left last night.” Her knees dig into the sofa as she leans back, the words spilling from her lips quickly and she finally looks me in the eyes. “I didn’t know how far along I was… I’m sorry… I just…”
I kiss her before her voice can hitch again and before fresh tears fall from her wide eyes. Her lips mold to mine, her hands slip around my neck and she holds on to me as tightly as I hold on to her.
The kiss deepens and that’s her doing. Her desire and her need make a deadly concoction as they stir to mingle with her sadness. I’d get drunk on that taste every night if I could.
When she breaks our kiss to breathe, her chest brushing against mine, I whisper, “I love you.” I’m drowning in the heat between us.
“I love you too.”