Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“ W hat day is it today?” I ask Fern later in the week. We’re in the kitchen together making dinner. Tonight, we’re having sloppy joes and tater tots. Not fancy at all, but neither of us felt like doing much cooking. I’m cooking the tater tots in the air fryer, which was a gift from Julie, and Fern is at the stove stirring the ground beef mixture.
She stops what she’s doing and stares at me in disbelief. “You really don’t know? You were just at work today. How can you not know?”
“I just want to make sure I have my days right. It’s Thursday, right?”
“Yes, and tomorrow is Friday.” She turns back toward the stove and continues stirring.
I grab my phone and check the calendar. Yep, it’s Thursday, and when I check the date and how many weeks have progressed since Justin and I met, an unsettling feeling takes root in the pit of my stomach.
“What’s wrong? Why do you want to know?” she asks, turning back toward me.
“Nothing,” I say, and leave it at that. Because there’s no way that it could be true. It’s probably just stress. Sure, I’ve never skipped a period before, but who knows?
During dinner, I pick at my food, not really tasting it because my mind is too focused on my late period. And on my way home from work the next day, I stop at the drugstore and pick up a pack of pregnancy tests. Good thing these things come in packs of three because I don’t think I’d believe just one of them.
That evening, I take a test. The three minutes I have to wait are excruciating. My mind races. My entire future flashes before my eyes in those three minutes, and I’m left wondering if it is positive, am I ready for that kind of commitment? Am I really ready to be a mom? Do I even want that? I’m only twenty-six with still so much to achieve in life, but can I really achieve that while being a parent? I know there are plenty of people who make a career and children work, but I’ve always admired my mother’s choice of staying at home to raise Fern and me. If it’s financially feasible, that’s what I’d like to do.
Part of me can already see my growing belly, the car seats, the baby toys, the nursery. Even the sleepless nights, the round-the-clock feedings, and if I make a mistake, wondering if I’m going to screw up my child for life. All of it. I can see Justin and me being supportive, doting parents on this wonderful miracle, and we’re together through it all, like one big happy family.
But then there’s the other part of me that worries about the missed opportunities, the fact that my career is over, and my identity will be wrapped up in my child’s. I’ll no longer be Dahlia. I’ll be so-and-so’s mom.
And then there’s Justin. He said it himself that he’s not ready for children yet. Those words came right out of his mouth when he was here for breakfast. He loves bringing children into this world—just not his children. Not yet.
I look down at the pregnancy test on the counter. Positive. How could this be? We used protection. Am I seriously part of the one percent that experienced a condom failure?
A feeling of dread hits me in an instant, and nervous butterflies flutter around in my stomach. Okay. Maybe it’s a false positive. It says in the directions that for the best results, test in the morning. So that’s what I’ll do. This will all be okay, and in the morning my life will go back to normal.
But the next morning when I test, I get the same result. Positive. Those two pink lines are like a curse word to me. And since I have three in this pack, I might as well put the nail in the coffin. Positive.
I sit down on the toilet seat with my head in my hands. What am I going to do? The thought of having an abortion quickly flashes through my mind.
No. I can’t. I can’t bear the thought of losing a part of me. I don’t fault anyone for choosing that route, but I can’t go through with it. Even though I just tested positive, I already feel an obligation to keep this baby safe.
But I can’t keep it a secret. Eventually I’ll start to show and Justin will definitely take notice. Not only that, but my family will notice, and I wouldn’t want to keep it from them anyway.
I have to tell Justin first, and I’ll use our date tonight to break the news to him. We’re going out to a restaurant, and while I don’t want to spring this news on him in the company of others, I also don’t want to keep this to myself for any length of time. He deserves to know, and he deserves to know as soon as possible.
With the rest of the time I have before our date, I try to keep busy around the house, cleaning things, and chipping away at the book I was reading. But nervousness gnaws away at me, making it difficult to concentrate. I try to make myself scarce because I don’t want to let on to Fern that something is amiss.
When it’s finally time for me to get ready, it takes me a while to choose my outfit. What exactly do you wear when you want to tell your boyfriend you’re pregnant? At least I think that’s what we are—boyfriend and girlfriend, not that we need to put a label on it. I settle on a light gray turtleneck sweater to match both my mood and the weather and a pair of skinny jeans. Right before I’m about to leave, I send Justin a text telling him that I’m excited for our date and I’ll see him soon at the restaurant. I can’t let on that I have news for him.
We agreed earlier in the week to drive separately because Justin is on call at the hospital this weekend. We’ve tried to text as much as possible, but he’s been really busy this week, so sometimes he’ll go hours without responding to my texts. This should bother me, but it doesn’t. I know he’s been tied up with his residency, and he’ll respond when he can.
But I’m a little concerned that by the time I get to the restaurant, I still haven’t heard from him. We agreed to meet at seven, and yes, I’m fifteen minutes early, but that’s not that early.
I wait in my car, listening to the rain pattering on the roof, my fingers drumming a beat on my pant leg. I scan the parking lot for any sign of his not-very-sexy-but-practical, four-door sedan, and don’t see it anywhere. It’s possible that I can’t see it from where I’m sitting, and he could be inside already. I decide to chance it and head in. The hostess greets me right away, and I tell her I’m meeting someone and describe Justin to her.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen anyone who looks like your description,” she says, her expression looking something like pity. “If you’d like, you can wait here, or I can seat you at a table.”
Something tells me that if I sit here in the waiting area, she would just stare at me and feel bad for me the whole time. “I’ll take the table, thanks.” She seats me at a booth in the corner of the dining room, far away from the other, more cheerful patrons, further cementing that she pities me.
A server stops by my table, and I tell him that I’m waiting for someone. He asks me if I’d like something to drink while I wait, and I opt for a glass of water. Fifteen minutes go by and still no word from Justin. My server stops by again, this time asking if I’d like something to eat. I decline, stating that I want to wait a little bit longer. But then another fifteen minutes go by. Then an hour. Still no Justin. Still no text. By this point, I’m feeling awful that I took up this server’s table the whole time and didn’t order anything. I leave twenty dollars on the table and get out of there as quickly as possible, making sure the hostess doesn’t see me on my way out.
When I get home, Fern is lounging on the couch and sits up when I come through the door.
“You’re home way earlier than I thought you’d be.” The expression on my face must be one of misery because a worried look crosses her face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
I toss my phone on the sofa table and plop down on the couch. “He didn’t show up.”
“What? Did he say why?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t heard from him at all. I sent him a text before I left, and I sat at the restaurant for over an hour waiting for him.”
Fern scooches closer to me and wraps me up in a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m sure there’s a good reason for it. You said he’s on call this weekend, so I bet that had something to do with it.”
I brush away the couple of tears that managed to form and pull away from her. “I’m sure it does. But I had some news for him that I wanted to get off my chest tonight.”
“Anything you want to share with your big sister?”
“Not yet. He needs to hear it first.”
“I’m assuming you didn’t eat?”
“No, I didn’t. I kept waiting for him to show up, and when he didn’t, I didn’t want to be the sad girl eating by herself, so I left.”
“Okay, I’m making you dinner then. What do you want?”
“Carbs, and lots of them,” I say with a smile, the first time I’ve smiled all day.
Fern answers my call for carbs, and in less than thirty minutes, a bowl of steaming pasta is put in front of me.
I look down at the bowl, then look up at her. “You made pepperoni pasta?” She nods. “I haven’t had this in ages.”
In front of me is a bowl of elbow macaroni with tomato sauce, pepperoni, and melted mozzarella cheese. It’s nothing special, and probably something a five-year-old would come up with. But it’s total comfort food and right now that’s what I need. It’s something we used to make as kids because it was the one meal we could make for ourselves without screwing it up.
“I thought you could use it,” she says, assuming her position on the couch.
“Thank you, really,” I say, my gaze meeting hers. “This is exactly what I need.”
She shrugs. “What are big sisters for?”
Halfway through my bowl of pasta, there’s a knock on the door. Fern stares at me, waiting for me to get up and answer it.
“It’s probably for you anyway,” she says. “It wouldn’t be Brett because he’s out of town this weekend.”
“Fine,” I say, setting my bowl down. “I’ll get it.”
Sure enough, when I open the door, it’s Justin on my front porch. In one hand, he’s got a bouquet of flowers, and in the other, a pint of ice cream. I try to keep a straight face, but this gesture is just too sweet. But before I let him in, he needs to explain himself.
“I’m sorry the flowers aren’t the best, but at this time of night, it’s all I could get. And I figured you would’ve had dinner already, but I was banking on you not having dessert.”
I don’t say anything and make no move to let him in. Just to make sure he knows how annoyed I am, I cross my arms over my chest.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he says, the expression on his face looking somber. With his hunched shoulders and weary eyes, he looks tired and spent. But I’ve also had a rough day, with mine being more of a mental stress. “We had a very long and complicated delivery at the hospital, several of them actually. It hasn’t been a great day, but that’s no excuse for not responding. I should’ve at least sent a text.”
“Well, you’d better come in before that ice cream starts to melt. I can’t bear the thought of wasted ice cream,” I say, a small smile touching my lips.
He wraps his arms around me, still holding the flowers and ice cream. I feel him relax when he’s holding me, like he’s relieved, and this hug is the best thing to happen to him all day. When he lets me go, I take the ice cream and put it in the freezer. He follows me in the kitchen and hands over the flowers once I find a vase.
“So, tell me, how terrible was it at the restaurant? How long did you end up waiting?”
“A little over an hour.”
His face falls instantly, and he shakes his head in disgust. “I’m so sorry. I hate that you waited that long. It’s my fault. I should’ve stepped away to text you.”
I don’t have it in me to be mad anymore. I knew going into this relationship that his residency would keep him busy and have him working long, odd hours sometimes. I just have to remember that it’s not forever. “I’m over it. Sure, it was more than a little awkward sitting by myself at a table for that long, and probably all the staff pitied me, but things happen.” I walk by and motion for him to follow. “Come back to my bedroom. I have some news I need to share with you.”
He follows me back to my bedroom, and I have him sit down on my bed while I stand. I’m too nervous to sit and end up pacing back and forth.
“How’s Jack doing?” I ask. The day that Justin had to leave to go to the hospital, he told me later in the day that Jack had just sprained his ankle. There was some bruising on his back and legs, but no broken bones. He’s lucky because with his age, it could’ve been much worse.
“He’s doing better. He’s able to put a little pressure on his ankle now, so he’s making progress.”
“That’s good. Are you going to have to go back up there soon?” I’m stalling. I know it, and judging by the expectant look on Justin’s face, he knows it too.
He shakes his head. “No, my mom can handle it from here.” He pats the spot on the bed next to him. “Will you sit down next to me? You look nervous, and it’s making me nervous.”
I sit down, but my leg starts bouncing, all my nervous energy needing someplace to go. I take a deep breath, and open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Will you please speak? I have to know what’s going through your mind,” he says, fisting his hair in anguish.
I take a deep breath again. “I noticed earlier in the week that it’s been a while since my last period.” A beat passes between us, and I gather up the courage to say the next part. “I took a pregnancy test yesterday and two this morning, and they were all positive.” I stop talking and let my words settle around the room.
He’s quiet for a moment and a grin plays on his lips. “That’s it?”
“What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’”
“I thought you were bringing me back here to break up with me,” he says with a chuckle.
“I think my news is pretty serious, don’t you?” I’m so confused by his reaction, I don’t know how to react.
“Yeah, of course it’s serious. But your news is way better than what I thought. Can I see one of the tests?”
I nod, then head into the bathroom to retrieve one of them from the counter where I left them. He takes it from me, and looks at it with a smile on his face, then sets it down next to him.
“But you said not that long ago that you want kids someday, just not yet. And I know you’re busy with your residency, and your eventual job will be time-consuming, so if you don’t want to be involved in this child’s life, you don’t have to,” I say, pacing back and forth yet again. “I can move back in with my parents because Fern is probably going to want Brett to move in here soon anyway. My mom can help watch the baby so I can work and earn money to help raise this child. It’s not ideal, but I could make it work, and you could always come visit on the weekends if you’d like.”
He's struggling to keep a straight face. “Can I speak now?”
“Okay,” I say with a noncommittal shrug, and sit back down next to him.
“I know what I said, but now that we’re faced with this new reality, my line of thinking needs to change. Sure, it’s not when I would’ve planned it, but I guess I need to think of it like your mom. There’s no perfect time to have kids, and you don’t always get to choose when it happens.” He takes my hands in his. “We’re going to be parents. I get to deliver babies for a living, but soon I’ll get to deliver one of my own.” His eyes have taken on a glossy sheen.
This certainly isn’t the reaction I was expecting, and I can’t help the tears that well up in my eyes. “But what about your job? What about mine?”
“We’ll make it work.”
“But what about all the things I’ve never done? I’ve never backpacked, or even camped for that matter. What kind of Washingtonian has never been camping?” He shrugs in response. “I’ve never seen the Great Wall or the Great Lakes. I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon. Hell, I’ve never been gambling in Vegas.”
“I’ve never done any of those things either. Well, except the camping. I have done that.”
“See what I mean?” I say, my brows shooting up.
He brings my hands to his lips and kisses the tops of them. “It’s not a death sentence. It’s just a child—our child. And I want to be there with you every step of the way.”
“You mean it?”
“Absolutely. And we have the added bonus of already having a house to raise the child in.”
“Are you saying you want me to move in with you?”
“Eventually, yes. But I’d like to renovate it first.”
“You mean you’re not upset?”
“Absolutely not. We get to be parents,” he says, giving my hands a gentle squeeze. “And we’re going to do this together. In the meantime, we can work to cross some things off your list. We can go camping if you’d like. We can go to Vegas for a weekend. The Great Wall might be a little hard to get to, but at some point in our lives we might be able to take a trip there.”
“Vegas has never interested me, and I’m guessing that camping might be overrated,” I say with a chuckle. “But I would like to go on a weekend getaway with you. But it has to be somewhere that has hot water. I can’t live without a hot shower.”
“Fair enough. We’ll make plans to do whatever you’d like.”
“You really mean it? You’re not scared or freaked out at the thought of becoming a parent?” He can’t be this cool with the whole thing, not after I fretted all damn day over it.
“Of course I’m scared and worried. But I think that’s normal.” Seconds pass, and when I don’t say anything, Justin looks at me, a puzzled expression on his face. “What? What’s on your mind?”
“I’d like to go have that ice cream now.”
A booming laugh escapes his lips. “Then let’s head to the kitchen. I don’t want to deprive you of your ice cream.”
When the two of us enter the living room, Fern is sitting up on the couch, staring at us with the TV muted. She stands up and positions herself right in front of me.
“I heard everything,” she says, tears in her eyes. “These walls are very thin.” She embraces me in a hug, hanging on just a little too long. “Congratulations to the both of you. I know the timing isn’t what you wanted, but I’m here for you. Seriously. Whatever you need.”
I wipe away the tears from my cheeks before they make it to my chin. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”
She approaches Justin next and gives him a hug. “You’re going to make great parents.”
“Thank you,” he says once she lets go.
My gaze travels to the freezer. “Fern, I love you, but you’re interrupting my ice cream time.”