15. Lizzie
15
LIZZIE
O nce I finish getting dressed, I decide to peek out onto the main floor and see if he’s still there. I suppose if I’ve got to leave early, I might as well salvage the rest of the night. Maybe he and I could reconnect and get dinner or something. That’s if he isn’t upset or anything about seeing me dance. I mean, if he came here to see me, he has to be fine with it, right? If he hated it, he wouldn’t have come.
Scratch that. No food, I think as my stomach twists uneasily again.
When I poke my head out from the back to look for Dillan, I’m dismayed to find his table empty. Huh? It seems he and his friends are gone. Has he left because of me? No way he left because of me.
Or did he?
I’d totally thought he’d found me and come to surprise me. But by the looks of it, he didn’t find me—at least not intentionally. It’s more likely his buddies dragged him here and then— ta-da —out walked good old Lizzie.
Surprise ! She’s a stripper. Shaking her naked titties in one of the most notorious clubs of New York City.
Ohh . The expression on his face suddenly makes much more sense.
Heavens. And now he must think I ran off like a chicken because I realized he recognized me. Could this get any worse?
Great. Two disappointments in one night.
Lost the dance competition.
Lost the man.
Frickin’ awesome. Thanks a lot, fate.
All I want is to get home, so I figure I’ll take Marlene up on her offer and catch a ride with one of the bouncers, Knox, instead of dealing with the subway. I had such high hopes for tonight, and they’ve all been dashed and stepped on. Still, the pressure of trying to win the competition has been taken off my shoulders, and at least I can get some real rest like Pippa—and apparently, everyone else—wants me to.
I ask Knox to drop me off at the small drug store a short walk from my apartment. With the small nagging thought in the back of my mind, I know I won’t be able to rest properly. There’s one way I can determine if I’m pregnant—not that I think I am. Nope. Can’t be. But at least if I take a test, my anxiety will subside, and I’ll be able to take advantage of a quiet evening and fall asleep without tossing and turning.
It takes me an embarrassingly long time to work up the nerve to go inside the drugstore (cue my award for the slowest decision-making ever), and even longer to head to the aisle of pregnancy tests (like, seriously, I’m breaking records). God, there are so many. Some are digital readouts, some display two lines, and others read that pregnancy can be detected five days before your missed period, but then another one says six days.
My head spins, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the nausea and dizziness.
In the end, I buy two packs—a cheap one and an expensive one. I can’t tell you the difference between the two, but in total, there are four tests.
I’m prepared to take all of them just to be on the safe side.
T he bag in my hand seems as if it weighs a thousand pounds, and the walk back to my apartment takes an age and a half. Mrs. Loughty is in the hallway when I make it upstairs. Even though on good days I would love to humor her for a chat, today isn’t one of them.
She greets me with that cheerful voice of hers. “Hello, Lizzie. You’re home early! What a lovely surprise, my dear.”
“Hi, Mrs. L.” I barely manage to get the words out, my voice tight as I try to hold back tears of anxiety and fear. “I’m in a hurry. Gotta go.”
She starts to say something else, but I completely ignore her and keep walking. I’ll apologize later.
Pippa isn’t home. Without bothering to remove my coat, I head straight for the bathroom. My hands shake so violently when I open the first pregnancy test, I nearly drop it.
After reading the directions thoroughly (definitely not in a procrastinating way), I pee on the stick, place it on the counter, and wait. The instructions have said the results won’t take longer than two minutes to appear. Still, I watch the small window, wringing my hands as I wait.
Two lines appear almost instantly.
I stare at them as they grow darker until the results are undeniable.
Don’t panic.
Don’t panic , I chide myself again.
It’s okay. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. That was the cheap one so maybe it’s defective. Yup. That’s it. That’s totally what it is.
I repeat the words over and over again even as I tear open another test, this one from the expensive box.
The second has the same results. I don’t bother taking a third.
Okay. Now I can panic. I can panic like crazy.
Which I do.
My breathing picks up, and this time when the room spins, I’m pretty sure it isn’t from the pregnancy. To steady myself, I grab the sink and lean my weight against it while I try to focus on my breathing.
“Crap. What the hell am I going to do?” I ask myself aloud and stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink.
It isn’t like I can contact Dillan and tell him what happened. Tonight had been my one chance to do so, and he left before that could happen. Obviously, he wasn’t happy to see me. And because he saw me running off the stage, he now thinks I wasn’t happy to see him either.
I’ve got no other way to contact him.
Plus, he was crystal clear about his stance on kids.
Which brings us to the delightful realization that a kid hasn’t exactly been factored into my life plans either. Sure, I want children, but not right now. Not when I’m single and trying to save my money to open my own business. I’d always planned to have children farther down the line, once I’m established and in a stable, loving relationship.
This is the exact opposite.
Right before my eyes, I watch my hopes and dreams shatter. There’s no way I can pursue the dance studio now. Not until the baby is older at least.
A knock on the bathroom door nearly makes me jump out of my skin.
“Lizzie? You in there?” Pippa’s voice has an instantly soothing effect on me. “Mrs. Loughty called me and said you came home early and weren’t acting like yourself. Is everything okay?”
Good old Mrs. L. I can’t even find it in my heart to be annoyed with her for sticking her nose in my business because being alone is the last thing I want. When I open the bathroom door, both of them are standing there, seeming concerned.
“Are you all right, my dear? You’re looking very pale,” Mrs. Loughty comments, casting a worried glance my way.
“I knew you were working too hard,” Pippa says. “I was just telling her earlier that she’s doing too much. Did you overdo it at work?”
“I’m…I’m…” I can’t say it. Can’t get the word “pregnant” out. It’s stuck in my throat like a lump that threatens to choke me.
“You’re what?” Pippa asks.
“You’re what?” Mrs. Loughty parrots Pippa’s question.
Still, the words won’t come out.
In the end, all I can do is hand them both tests. Their reactions are a lot more subtle than mine had been. Pippa and Mrs. L share a brief glance before both women lead me over to the sofa.
“Here, darling, have a seat.” Mrs. Loughty’s soothing motherly voice instantly puts me at ease. “Pippa, dear, get her some water. Or do you want a nice cup of tea?”
“W…ater,” I manage to squeeze out, voice thin.
Pippa springs into action, and the next thing I know, an ice-cold glass of water is shoved into my limp hand. I drink it without hesitation or much thought, too lost in my head. It isn’t until the glass is empty that I realize how incredibly thirsty I was. The water actually helps. I can feel the coldness slide down my throat and settle in my stomach, which seems to kick-start the rest of my senses.
“What am I going to do?” I ask, finding my voice again.
“What do you want to do?” Pippa asks. “Do you want to keep it?”
“ Pippa .” Mrs. Loughty gasps at the question. “Shame on you! What a thing to ask.”
“Hey, Mrs. L, this is a pro-choice home.”
I lift a hand to silence their bickering. “That’s not… I don’t want to do anything like that. I’m going to have the baby, and I’m going to keep it.”
“Good decision, my dear.” Mrs. Loughty seems to relax at that and slips her arm around my shoulders.
Pippa takes my hand.
“I mean, money-wise I’m sure I’ll be okay,” I go on, trying to work things out as I speak. “But I didn’t plan for this. I suppose I’ll have to work right up until I deliver. And then after…daycare is so expensive, and I hate the thought of leaving my baby with a stranger. I don’t have any family around who can help. Oh, God…”
Pippa and Mrs. Loughty hug me tightly, and I cling to them, shutting my eyes and taking a few calming breaths. I can’t hold back the tears anymore, and though I’m not outright sobbing, they flow so fast, I might as well be.
“We’re here for you, Lizzie,” Pippa tells me, smoothing my hair away from my face. “You don’t have to work everything out tonight. And you don’t have to do this alone.”
“That’s right,” Mrs. L agrees. “Just take it one step at a time, dearie. You only just took the test. All you can do tonight is have a good warm dinner and get some sleep. Start fresh in the morning.”
Her words bring little comfort. Logically, I know it makes sense, but my nerves are too frazzled to follow anything that would be considered logical.
“Yeah…I guess…” is all I can manage to say.
“What about the father?” Mrs. Loughty asks. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but you really do have to tell him. It’s his responsibility too, you know. Rex may a bit of a dimwit, but I imagine he still knows right from wrong.”
I share a look with Pippa, but it isn’t necessary. I can tell by her expression that she knows exactly who the father is.
“It’s not Rex,” I correct.
“Oh? It’s not?”
Pippa shakes her head. “ Nope .”
“The father is…well, he’s not in the picture. What we had… It was a one-time thing.”
“You modern women. Gosh, I wish I was thirty years younger. Actually, make that fifty.”
“Besides,” I mutter, “he was pretty clear about not wanting kids.”
“Well, then, that’s his loss,” Mrs. Loughty says in the same tough-as-nails voice I’ve heard her use many times in the past when her mind was set on something. “Pippa is right, Elizabeth. You don’t have to do this alone. We will both be here for you.”
“Yeah, it’ll be like Three Men and a Baby .” Pippa plasters on a smile.
“Except better,” Mrs. Loughty says with a wink, “because we’re hotter… and we actually know what we’re doing.”
“Do we?”
“Meh, we’ll figure it out,” Pippa agrees, shrugging.
“Of course we will,” Mrs. L declares. “And you’re still going to dance, and you’re still going to get that dance studio you’ve been saving for. This doesn’t have to change your dreams.”
“It will just put them on hold,” I say with a sigh.
“Temporarily,” Pippa points out. “That’s important to remember. You’re only putting them on hold for a little while longer. This isn’t the end of the world.”
“No. No, it’s not,” I agree, my spirits lifting with their unconditional support. Knowing I’m aiming for stability and love, even if it will take a bit longer, makes the journey worthwhile. Besides, the best stories often have moments of suspense and unexpected turns. This is nothing but a challenging chapter, building up to a more epic climax. “Yeah, you guys are right. We can do this.” I exhale, sensing a newfound confidence settling within me. “ I can do this. I mean, I won’t be able to dance at the club, but there are other positions there, like waitressing. I can do that. Done it before. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“Also, babies are hella cute,” Pippa adds, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. She makes a face, cupping her hands around her cheeks to create an imaginary chubby baby look, complete with a playful pout and wide, innocent eyes.
“Oh, God, they really are,” I say, growing excited. “With their little fingers and toes!”
“Don’t forget that amazing new baby smell,” Mrs. L adds. “And those little hats they have to wear to keep their heads warm.”
“My room is big enough to fit a crib,” I say, already reorganizing the space in my head. “I can get rid of my desk. I don’t use it much anyway.”
“And we can put your bed on risers and fit some drawers under there,” Pippa suggests. “That’ll give you plenty of storage space.”
“First things first, anyway,” Mrs. L cuts in. “You need to make an appointment with your gynecologist and get a proper confirmation. You know my friend Linda’s son is a gynecologist. Herbert.”
“Yes, I know, Mrs. Loughty.” I resist the urge to let out a silent chuckle. I’m not going to see Herbert. That’s for sure.
“Oh, silly old me—I forgot he was the one you stood up. Probably not such a good idea to see him, then. Anyway, whoever you decide to go with will be able to set up all your future appointments and give you suggestions. And you're going to need prenatal vitamins.”
“And calcium tablets. A woman I work with had a baby and said her teeth went to shit because she didn’t have enough calcium.”
As she and Pippa begin to talk about everything else I will need, I take a moment to gather my thoughts. They’re right—it’s going to be okay. I mean, it’s got to be. I’m not the first young single mother, and I won’t be the last. Plenty of women have been where I am and have done an amazing job raising their children. And it’s true, having kids wasn’t in my plans for the next few years, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be excited about becoming a mom. In fact, some of the nerves are already going away as I keep thinking about the life growing inside me.
I’m going to be the best freakin’ mother I can possibly be.
I’ve got a mental image of myself with a little kid, teaching them to dance, and my excitement ramps up. Sure, there’s lingering anxiety, and I know that some days in the coming months will be harder than others, but I can make it work.
No. I’m determined to make it work.