21. Delia
twenty-one
Delia
I stared down at the positive pregnancy tests that littered my bathroom. I guess these really are pretty accurate.
At this point, it didn’t really matter how I felt about it, because it was real. All too real.
Strangely, one of the first thoughts that came to me was that I had no idea how I was going to tell Jeremy. Jeremy wasn’t my boyfriend. I owed him nothing, obviously, but I knew he was going to be heartbroken by my getting pregnant by his best friend.
He’d understand. It had happened by accident. Neither of us had planned it. I hadn’t even planned on getting in his car that night. It had just happened. God, I sound like a cliché.
I felt dizzy, and I clamped my fingers around the counter. This was going to ruin their friendship, and it was all my fault. There was no way he’d forgive Robert for this.
And Robert…did he even want to see me ever again? He’d seemed perfectly happy to get me out of his house that night after… what we’d done. It had felt so good, and then suddenly, it was over.
I wasn’t even sure that I should tell Robert. Maybe he didn’t want to see me. He already had a child, and his life seemed complicated. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him and risk complicating it anymore. Maybe he wouldn’t want to be a father again. Maybe he wouldn’t want to do it if it meant doing it with me.
I wrapped my arms around myself and resolved to keep it a secret from Robert for now. I didn’t know enough about what I even wanted from him to tell him. It would just complicate things further. I needed to figure out how I felt first.
Still gripping the counter with one hand, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Kassandra. She answered on the first ring, excitedly, bubbly, nothing like how I felt, and exclaimed, “Hey! Are you ready for Thanksgiving?”
My mouth felt dry. I couldn’t even begin to figure out how to answer that. I had been ready for Thanksgiving just an hour ago, and all of a sudden, it was the furthest thing from my mind.
Yet, I still had to think about it. I still had to start my turkey and let it marinate until the next day, when I would have to let it cook low and slow overnight until finally my family came.
I wasn’t much of a fan of Thanksgiving or any holiday. It was a reminder of what I was missing in the way of family. My father didn’t come around, my brother lived a state away, and my mother wasn’t that healed of a person.
I knew I had gotten into working with veterans because of my dad, but sometimes I felt like maybe I had gotten into therapy in general because of how unhealed my mother was. She looked for attention and love in all the wrong places. I wasn’t a big priority for her, even though I felt like I could give her the love she craved.
It was hard to sit around a table and eat dry turkey on a day of gratitude with my mother, who mostly made me unsure of myself, among the guests.
“Hello? Delia, can you hear me?” Kassandra asked, and I realized that I had been sitting in silence on the other end.
I shook my head and snapped back into reality, saying, “Sorry. No, I’m not ready. Actually, would you want to come over and help me? I need to start the turkey marinade.”
“Do you mean brine?”
“I guess. I don’t know. See, I need you!”
“Okay, okay. I’ll be over in fifteen then, just hold tight,” Kassandra laughed her tinkling laugh, and for a second, it calmed me down to know that even if everything wasn’t normal with me, at least Kassandra hadn’t changed.
It was a strange thought – of course Kassandra hadn’t changed – but I was feeling a sense of dread as I stared at the pregnancy tests, and they stared back.
I waited in obscurity for Kassandra to arrive. It was almost like I wasn’t there. That’s how I felt as I got the ingredients for the turkey ‘brine’ together – the salt, the brown sugar, the Worcestershire sauce, the garlic, and the pepper. I laid it all out on the counter along with the defrosted turkey.
It was strangely ritualistic, the things I’d need to make this turkey taste good right next to it. The only way it could feel stranger would be if the turkey were actively gobbling.
Kassandra got to my place within the hour, although nowhere near the fifteen minutes like she’d said. She was always ‘stylishly late,’ though I had a suspicion it wasn’t all that intentional. She was routinely late for work as well.
She came with a container of salt and a hug. It was just what I needed. She shook her brown curls around her and said, “Jeez, you look like crap. Have you been up all day or what?”
I laughed a little, even though it stung coming from her. She never meant it that way. She was blunt, but I knew she loved me. “I feel like crap,” I said honestly, taking the container of salt from her. “You thought I didn’t have salt?”
“I thought you might not have enough salt. Brine is pretty salty.” Kassandra surveyed my ingredients, and I felt my secret dying to get out, beating at my chest like a captured animal.
Just as she pointed to the Worcestershire sauce and said, “Well, actually, this stuff is pretty salty, so you might have—” I blurted out, “Kassie, I’m pregnant.”
Her finger midair, she shut her mouth instantly. I could see all the muscles in her top half stiffen.
I stood next to her, my hands in my hair, unsure where to go with the conversation from there. She turned slightly, her eyebrows all the way up in her hairline, and her pointed finger turned into an open, upward palm. “What did you say? I think I misheard you.”
“No, you heard me right,” I sighed, and sat down at my dining table. I pulled my feet up onto the chair and set my chin against my knees. “I’m pregnant.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice strained as she walked over to me.
I stood up quickly and grabbed her hand. “Do you want to see how sure I am?” I walked her to the bathroom with purpose.
Her hands flew to cover her mouth when she saw the carnage of used pregnancy tests. She leaned down and looked closer at all the tiny little blue ‘pregnant’s, her eyes widening at each one. Standing up straight, she barked in shock, “You’re pregnant!”
“I know,” I groaned, and slid down the wall to the bathroom tile.
For a moment, the air was thick with silence and tense with emotion. Kassandra squatted down so that we were at eye level, and she took my hands in hers. “Well, is this good news or bad news?”
“I don’t know!” I exclaimed, frustrated, and rested my head against the wall.
“Okay!” She moved one of her hands to my shoulder and looked into my eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. Why don’t you know? What feelings are you having?”
“I’m…I’ve always wanted to be a mom,” I told her, finally really seeing her, my eyes focusing through my tears.
“That’s good, that’s good. Hey, that’ll do it.” She held her hands out on either side of her like she was selling me something.
I laughed despite myself. “But it’s…the dad doesn’t like me very much, I don’t think.”
“Who is he? If you want to tell me.” She added the second part in a rushed voice, concerned that she had offended me by asking.
“Of course, I want to tell you. It’s just…hard to. It’s sensitive.” I scrunched up even tighter into a smaller ball. Maybe if I get small enough, no one will be able to see me.
“Is it Jeremy?” she whispered, her face screwed up like she’d hate nothing more.
“No,” I groaned. “It’s worse than that.” I flopped my face down onto my knees, took a deep breath, and whispered into my lap, “It’s Robert.”
“Robert? Who’s Robe– is that the self-defense guy who came to the bar a few weeks ago? The one who was insane to that customer?” Her voice was accusatory, her eyes wide in shock.
As if instinctively, I defended him, “That customer was being inappropriate with me!”
“No, I know. I’m just saying. That was quite the reaction by him. Nice of him to protect your honor, though, I guess.” She sat down next to me, flopping her body beside me and laying her head back against the wall.
“My honor,” I scoffed. “Did you know that he came by the bar one day looking to apologize to me, and this guy was following me to my car? I didn’t know what was going to happen, and Robert knocked him clean out, choked him until he passed out, Kassie. He was protecting me. He looked out for me.”
“Wait, pause.” Kassandra turned to me, her legs splayed out in front of her, “Delia, I have so many questions.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for her response, and said, “I know. The day you didn’t come to class, I went by myself, and he kissed me out in the hall. It was weird, and we ended up sort of arguing. He came by the bar, and that’s what you saw. And then he was kind of rude to me again. So I guess he came by to apologize, and he ended up saving me, and then we kind of had sex.”
“Kind of? Seems like you definitely had sex, if those pregnancy tests are any indicator,” she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
But nothing about this felt light. “Very funny.”
“Delia…” Kassandra dragged her words out, looking at the counter like the tests were bombs that might explode any moment, “I don’t want to be the one to point this out if you’re not ready to face it, but is it worth noting that you told me he’s Jeremy’s best friend?”
“I know, I know,” I groaned. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?”
“And he’s another older guy. Don’t you want someone young and fun? Like a young professional type that can keep up with you?” Gently, she tucked some of my hair behind my ear, her head tilted to soften the blow of the question.
“I can barely keep up with him, honestly. I don’t think he’s the kind of old man you’re thinking he is.” I flopped my arms down to my side, releasing myself from the fetal position.
“Okay, so here’s what I’m noticing. You want to be a mom, and you’re defending him at everything I say. Maybe, just maybe, you like him.” Kassandra tapped the tip of my nose with her finger, her eyes twinkling.
“I don’t want to like him!” I explained, twisting around to face her fully. “He’s been judgmental and cocky, and after we had sex, he offered to have his driver give me a ride home.”
“What's wrong with offering to have his driver give you a ride home? That sounds nice.”
“I was asking where his bedroom was.”
“You weren’t in it?” Kassandra raised an eyebrow.
“We were in his kitchen,” I sighed, turning back to lean against the wall again, readying myself for the response I thought was coming. That I had done this to myself, that I had put myself in a ridiculous situation.
Instead, with a devious smile, Kassandra said, “Delia, you bad girl.”
“Stop,” I whined, as a small laugh came out of me without my permission. I rolled my eyes and continued on with my plight, “Plus, he already has an older daughter. What if he doesn’t want to raise a child all over again? And he’s Jeremy’s best friend. And all the other reasons you just said. I don’t know if I should tell him. What if I’m ruining his life with this?”
“Dee, he gets to decide that, not you. I don’t understand why you’d want this for yourself, but if you do – and it sounds like you do – you should be honest with him.”
“That’s your advice? Be honest?” I asked shrilly. That advice was childish. There were too many moving parts for it to be so simple.
“That’s my advice,” she shrugged.
I sighed, resting my head against her shoulder as the weight of her words settled over me. Be honest.
It sounded so simple when she said it, but the idea of telling Robert—of saying those words out loud and facing his reaction—felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. What if he looked at me the way he had after we slept together? Distant. Conflicted. What if he turned his back on me completely?
Kassandra reached over and gave my knee a reassuring squeeze, her face softening. “Look, Delia, you don’t have to do it today. Or tomorrow. But if you’re serious about wanting to figure this out, you’re going to have to talk to him eventually. And you’re going to have to figure out how you feel about him. Not Jeremy, not anyone else. Just him.”
“I know,” I whispered, my voice shaky.
“You’ve got time,” she smiled gently. “But for now, let’s focus on surviving Thanksgiving, okay?”
I nodded, letting her words sink in. Thanksgiving. The turkey. The brine. My mother. For the moment, those were enough to keep me grounded.
Kassandra stood and stretched, offering me a hand. “Come on, let’s get this turkey brined so you know how to do it for Thanksgiving. You know how your mom is. She doesn’t cook, but she’ll still judge your cooking.”
I laughed, weakly, and let her pull me to my feet. As we walked back to the kitchen, I felt the weight in my chest loosen slightly.
The pregnancy tests still sat on the bathroom counter, a silent reminder of the choice I’d eventually have to make.
But for now, I could pretend everything was normal.
At least for one more day.