21. Ally
21
ALLY
I knew he wasn’t going to be happy or excited, but I never expected him to be mad.
I expected him to be worried—worried about his job, mine, and maybe even a little worried for my overall health given that he lost his wife to a complicated pregnancy.
I expected him to be anxious about the hospital finding out and the repercussions we could face because of this.
I expected him to be surprised because while we might have had unprotected sex the first couple of times, I quickly got on birth control so it wouldn’t be anything to worry about.
But I never in a million years thought he’d be mad at me; that he’d blame me. It’s not like I did this to myself. I was just fine until he came along. Maybe I should be mad and be the one pointing the finger.
I’m surprised by his reaction, but I’m also angry. How dare he put all the blame on me? And he’s walking away? The door slamming behind him is a slap in the face. However you look at it, it’s the end.
All day I’ve been leading up to telling him the news. It was at the forefront of my mind. It powered every move I made. But now, I have no choice but to start making plans for myself and my child. No matter how hard I tried to be different, I’m just like my mother. Now that’s fate. No matter how much I wanted to believe in destiny or that my choices mattered, I was shown that destiny can only take you so far. That in the end, the path we walk might be by choice, but all roads lead to where you’re meant to be. Apparently, it’s been determined that I’m doomed to live the life I always wanted to avoid.
Realizing this makes my hands tighten into fists. I push myself forward, pulling open the door and marching out into the hallway. It’s empty. He’s already gone, and since no other office space is being used in this hallway, there’s nobody around to witness my walk of shame. Instead of heading toward the elevators, I turn in the opposite direction and take the back stairwell, so I don’t have to see or deal with anyone. I stop in the locker room and grab my things. I don’t bother changing out of my scrubs. I’m in too big of a hurry to get out of here.
I run. I run away from this hospital. I run away from him. I run from my past, and I try to run away from my future. That’s something I can’t escape, though. No matter how fast or how hard I run, I’m still running into my future.
As I ride the subway across town, I lean my head against the window, thinking about this morning. This morning, I didn’t know I was pregnant; I only knew that I could be. I still had my whole life ahead of me. All my hard work was paying off. Every plan I had made was still in place: finish the externship, graduate, get a job, and live the life I’ve dreamed of since I was old enough to dream. I took the pregnancy test before lunch, and that’s when everything changed. I spent my lunch hour talking with Grace and telling her the news. I could see the pity in her eyes because she knew how badly I wanted to be different, yet here I am, traveling the same path as my mother, twenty years later. At least Grace didn’t tell me I told you so . She tried to stay positive, but all her positives walked out the door when he did.
Now what?
I walk into our apartment and stop dead when I see her.
She takes one look at me and knows. “He didn’t take it well?”
I drop my bag onto the floor and remove my coat. “Nope.”
She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe. “Why don’t you go get out of those scrubs, and I’ll make us a cup of tea.”
I nod, pushing forward. I walk through the apartment and into my room, closing the door behind me. I pull out a pair of sweats and some slouchy socks.
I have an old, wooden dresser with a big rectangular mirror attached. There’s a strand of mini lights around the frame, and pictures and special notes and things tucked into it. My eyes land on the picture I took only a couple of weeks ago of me and Ethan at his house, lying in bed together. I have my head on his bare chest, and an afterglow fills our eyes.
I turn away from the mirror as I change, not wanting to see the look that will only make me miss him more. God, how pathetic am I? I should hate him right now. He ruined my future. I should be taking every picture of him and burning it, along with anything else that reminds me of him. But here I am, missing him. I miss the way he’d walk up to me and wrap his arms around me, hugging me to his chest as he rested his chin on the top of my head. I miss how I’d bury my face into his shirt, inhaling his scent. I miss the way his warm skin almost burned mine when we’d cuddle in bed. I miss the feeling of his breath on the back of my neck, the way his hand tightened on my hip, and how he’d wake me in the morning by attacking my neck with kisses while his hands roamed my body, bringing every inch of me to life.
The butterflies in my stomach come alive, and it causes my blood to overheat the way it always does when he’s involved. Shaking my head, I finish changing and go back into the living room. I flop down on the couch, crossing my arms. I probably look like a pouting child, but I don’t care.
Within minutes, Grace walks into the room with two cups in her hands. She passes me one before sitting on the opposite end of the couch.
“Thanks,” I mutter as I take the cup. I pull my legs up and to the side as I lean my left side against the arm of the couch, resting my cup on the top.
“So, he didn’t take it well.”
“No, he did not.”
“Now what?”
I shrug. “I guess I’m going to give him time to come to terms with it.” I look over at her. “This is a big thing, and it’s not like he was all that adjusted in the first place. Maybe he just needs some time.”
“And if you give him time, and he still doesn’t want anything to do with this?”
I bite my lower lip and take a deep breath. “Then I guess I have to change my plans and figure things out for me and a baby.”
“So, you’re going to keep it?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I haven’t thought about it. I just found out today. This is my first pregnancy, and a lot can go wrong. But even if I decide I don’t want it, I’ll give it up for adoption. I can’t abort when so many people out there want a baby and can’t have one.” Like Ethan’s late wife. If only they had adopted, she’d still be here. They’d be parents. Together, still in love and happy. I would be working at the hospital, just another young girl with a crush on the older, experienced doctor. No lines would be crossed. I’d finish my externship and graduate, move on with my life being a single, childless woman with a wide-open future. So many lives would be different right now if only they would’ve adopted.
But that didn’t happen. We’re here for a reason, I just wish I knew what it was. What lesson are we supposed to learn from all of this? What lesson could I possibly learn from walking the same path as my mother?
I take a sip of tea and look over at Grace, finding her watching me. “What?”
Her brows lift, and she shakes her head. “Nothing.”
“You always have something to say. You can’t tell me that now is any different.”
“Seriously, I have nothing to say. I’m here if you need someone to listen. If you ask for my advice, I’ll give it. But I’m not going to try and sway you in either direction. This is your life and your choice. Only you know what’s best for you.”
“Wow.”
She presses her lips together and moves her cup to her lips, taking a sip.
“So, if you were me, what would you do?” I know her answer won’t influence me one way or another, but I want to know. If for no other reason than to have someone to talk with for a little longer, so I don’t feel so alone.
“If I were you, I would give it up for adoption. Life will be hard enough as a single woman, working full-time to try to save the money you’ll need to support yourself. Even after graduation, it will take some time and a lot of hours before you make decent money. Why make it harder on yourself? Give the baby up for adoption and make your future easier and another couple’s lives better in the process.”
“And if he comes around?”
She shrugs. “How do you feel about him? Do you love him? Do you see yourself having a future with him? Do you think you’ll end up married and raising the baby together? If so, go for it. If not, don’t keep him in mind. Think of yourself because that’s clearly what he’s doing.”
I haven’t allowed myself to think about a future for Ethan and me. I’ve been so busy with school and working at the hospital that by the time I get to Ethan’s house in the evenings, I didn’t want to have any deep thoughts or serious conversations. I just enjoyed being with him. I loved the evenings we’d spend having dinner or lounging on the couch and watching a movie. I loved our showers before bed, and already I miss the way he pulled the blanket over my shoulders when he got into bed behind me.
I push all thoughts of a future together out of my head for now. None of that has to be decided right now. What I need is time. I put my cup of tea on the table and stand from the couch. Grace doesn’t bother asking where I’m going. I’m sure she can see that I just need to be alone. After gathering my clothes, I head to the shower to wash away the day.
***
I go to school in the morning. I turn in homework and get new assignments. I sit through lectures, but my head isn’t in it. When lunch rolls around, I’m more than happy to go to the hospital. Not because I want to see Ethan, but because I know working will keep my mind off everything else. I go to the locker room, change into my scrubs, clock in, and get to work.
The day is no different from any other at first. But a couple hours into my shift, I realize something is off. I haven’t seen Ethan. Finally, I ask Val. “Where’s Dr. Cole today? I haven’t seen him.”
She shrugs, busy at the computer. “He called in sick. First time in six years.”
He called in sick? I know that I have something to do with that. I clench my jaw to dull my anger and return to work, keeping my head down and staying busy until it’s time to clock out.
After work, I tell myself to go home, that he needs more time. And I intend to go home—I really do. I don’t remember deciding to go to his house to demand that he talk to me, but that’s what I do. The taxi drives away, leaving me outside of the iron gate that keeps his house private. I know it doesn’t matter how upset he is. He won’t leave me standing out here in the cold after dark. I move to the box and push the call button.
“Ally, what are you doing here?”
“The taxi dropped me off. I gave you some time. Now it’s time we talk.”
He doesn’t reply. The gate buzzes, and I hear the mechanics whir as the gate opens. I take a deep breath and push myself forward, walking up the driveway. I’m glad this driveway isn’t a mile long, but it’s still longer than a typical driveway.
Eventually, the house comes into view. A big ranch home with a two-car garage awaits. I move up the two steps on the front porch and knock on the door. A second later, he opens it, and our eyes lock.