7. Chelsea
CHELSEA
Idon't react for a minute.
I'm pretty sure the nurse thinks I accidentally put her on mute because she keeps saying, "Hello, are you there?" while I wait for my brain to reboot.
She even hangs up and calls back, but I don't answer immediately. I'm staring at space, at the opposite wall, while seeing nothing at all.
Pregnant. She just said I was pregnant.
How the hell could I be pregnant?
I mean, yeah, I know how it works, but...how?
The nurse calls back for the third time, and eventually I pick up, clearing my throat before I say hoarsely, "Hello?"
"Hi, sorry. I think we got cut off back there. I don't know if you heard what I said?"
"Uh, no. Can you please repeat it?" Because surely I didn't just hear her tell me that I was pregnant.
"Of course. So we noted that your HcG levels were consistent with pregnancy."
Shit. "Okay," I swallow. "Um...so I'm...?" I don't say it loudly, hyperaware of my brother in the next office over.
"Pregnant? Yes, most likely."
"Is there any chance that the test is wrong?"
"Um, well, it has an accuracy rate of over ninety-nine percent, so there's very little chance of it being wrong."
"I see." I don't know what to say to that. I kind of want to scream, cry, and laugh all at once.
I probably shouldn't be at work dealing with this kind of monumental news. I probably shouldn't be driving either.
I’m tempted to ask James to drive me, but I don’t want to interrupt his work, and I also don’t want to be around him, because he’ll instantly know something is wrong just by looking at my face. Then he’ll keep poking until I eventually spill the beans, whether I want to or not.
And I don’t want to spill the beans yet, because then I’d have to explain to my brother how I got pregnant in the first place.
Although I’m not quite sure myself. I mean, I had sex with Eric only six weeks ago and then had that threesome only four weeks ago, so the father could be any one of the four men.
Jesus. I never thought I would end up in this predicament, and if I were in a more amused mood, I would probably be laughing my head off right now.
In fact, semi-hysterical laughter bubbles up from my throat, leaking into the world, and I slap my hand over my mouth to hold it back. This is insane, on so many levels.
I’m pregnant. And I don’t know who the father is.
The pregnancy part of it doesn’t really scare me as much as the latter.
Truthfully, I’ve always wanted to be a mother, and that was one of the things about breaking up with Eric that hurt the most: letting go of the dream of us starting a family soon.
I wanted to have kids young as well, because my parents had me in their later years, and though they tried their best, I saw how much wear it was on them, especially combined with the stress from work and just health issues that they both faced.
They didn’t have the energy for a toddler at the time, and in a lot of ways, my brother raised me, though he was only a few years older himself.
In any case, having children young has always been something I wanted, and I’m not really scared about the concept of having them alone.
But God, I never expected it to happen like this.
“Mrs. Winston? Are you there?”
"Erm, yes.” I clear my throat, stopping the ridiculous laughter in its tracks, and I assume a serious affect once more. "Yes, I’m here. It’s just…Wow, I wasn’t expecting that to be the case. I thought I would have food poisoning or something.”
“Oh, you do,” She says, almost cheerily. “You have food poisoning, but while checking for that, we also checked your HcG, and it definitely indicates pregnancy.”
“Okay, and hum….how far along am I?” At this point, I'm not even sure what I’m hoping to be the answer.
I definitely don’t want Eric to be the father.
These four weeks away have opened my eyes to what a complete jackass he is, and he will definitely make a terrible dad.
Also, selfishly, I really don’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.
But then the alternative is that the father will be one of the three
strangers that I had a one-night stand with at a party four weeks ago.
I mean, is that really any better?
I dunno. I guess the best-case scenario is that the guy somehow ends up being a decent human being and a good father to our child.
The worst case scenario…I don’t even want to consider that, but if anything, I can always maybe ask him to sign his rights away so that he has no claim, and tell him I’m not going for any child support.
God, am I actually planning on keeping the pregnancy? It looks like it.
“We can’t tell yet. There's another test we’re running, but you'll have the results on that tomorrow.”
“Sure. Of course. Um…is there any way you can pen me in for a meeting with the doctor?” I could also go see my regular gynecologist, but I’m pretty sure I’ll have to wait at least a week for that, and I really don’t want to. “
“Sure. We have an opening tomorrow if you want.”
“Yes. That would be perfect, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Congratulations.”
“Sure." I’m not sure what she’s congratulating me for. It’s not like I achieved anything major. I was just dumb enough to sleep with someone without a condom.
Except with the three strangers, we used a condom the entire night.
Didn't we?
At some point there, I lost track of myself, but I distinctly remember the sound of ripping and the plastic sensation over the ridged cocks as they slid into me, splitting me apart at the seams.
A moan tears itself out of my throat even as I regain awareness. God, I shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. It’s those types of thoughts that got me in trouble in the first place.
I’m pregnant.
The condom could have burst at some point, and I wouldn’t be able to tell. Usually, I didn’t use condoms with Eric because I don’t like the sensation, and we trusted each other enough to go bare. Stupid mistake trusting him, considering he was cheating on me the entire time, but whatever.
It would be just my luck that the one time I do use a condom, it breaks.
It really could be anyone's baby at this point.
I guess I'll find out for sure tomorrow.
The night stretches, and I can barely sleep. Heavy eye bags sit underneath my eyes the next morning, and I cover them up with concealer before I head to work.
Luckily, my brother's out for the morning, and I leave around mid-afternoon to head to the doctor's office. My nerves are bouncing around my skin now.
"Okay," the doctor says as he leans back in his seat, analyzing the results before him. I’m gripping the handle of my bag tightly in my hands, my stomach doing jumping jacks as I wait for his verdict.
“Looking at the results here, it appears you’re about four weeks pregnant.”
An audible sigh of relief leaves my mouth, and my body sags so dramatically that the doctor smirks. "I’m guessing that’s a more favorable fatherhood option for you?’
“Yes. Much.” I had all night to think about it, and even knowing nothing about them, I would much rather the pregnancy be attributed to the three strangers than my scheming ex.
I mean…they may be a lot of things, but that night, they certainly helped me awaken parts of me I didn’t know I had. They were patient and kind and loving, and yes, I know it’s just sex, but I truly believe sex can show a lot about someone's personality.
Plus, a selfish thought hits me, I could just not tell them.
It’s a big city, and I may never run into them again.
I doubt they ever thought I would get pregnant; otherwise, they wouldn't be as fastidious about using condoms.
Still, it's probably right for me to tell them.
Right?
I go home, my mind still reeling from everything I just discovered. When I slot my key into the door, and it doesn't turn, I frown.
I try to handle the door opening. Someone's already in my house.
Eric?
What would he be doing here? Does he know about the pregnancy? Now I'm even more relieved that he's not the father, so I can kick him out happily.
I don't stop for a second to think about how irrational it would be for Eric to have figured out that I'm pregnant when I haven't told anyone yet. It's not like the doctor knows who he is, either, unless they do. Unless the doctor told him.
I'll sue him if he did. "Eric?"
"Ugh, don't tell me you're still thinking about that asshole."
I release a sigh of relief. It's not him.
It's my best friend in the whole world, Jenna, and the only other person who has the key to my apartment.
She comes out from the kitchen in my favorite ratty t-shirt with a pint of ice cream in one hand. "Do I need to kick your ass for you to forget about him? Or maybe I should kick his ass?"
"No ass-kicking necessary," I sigh as I put down my bag. "I'm over him. I was just dreading that he might be here for some reason."
She makes a face. "Why would he be here?"
"Maybe to take the rest of his stuff that he's refused to come collect, which I currently have waiting for him in garbage bags in the closet."
"I don't know why you still have it," she says. "If I were you, I would have torched that shit already."
"Yeah, but we both know that's not my style."
"Yup. Always too kind for your own good."
She sits on the couch and pats the seat beside her. "So come on. Tell me how your vacation was."
"You first. Tell me how Milan was." Jenna's a model, a really good one, practically a supermodel at this point, and her agency flew her out two months ago for fashion week and some other shoots.
She wanted me to go with her, but I turned it down at the time, knowing that it was too critical for me to be at work.
I can't believe I stayed like an idiot, supporting Eric's business, instead of going out to Milan with my bestie.
It would have been fun, though now that she's back, exhaustion streaks her face.
She's gorgeous regardless. She's so beautiful that I was surprised she wanted to be my friend back in high school.
We got put on a project together, and I thought maybe she was being nice to me just because she wanted me to do the majority of the work on the paper, which I didn't necessarily mind doing at the time.
But even after that, she said, "You're really cool, let's be friends."
And that was that. We stayed friends throughout high school, although we ended up going to different colleges, Columbia for me, and a fashion school in California for her.
We still kept in touch though, she visited often, meeting Claire and Eric, who had become my closest friends and support system in college.
Jenna never really liked either of them.
She thought Eric was a little too smarmy and Claire was weird, although she could never fully articulate what ‘weird’ meant.
Nevertheless, she tolerated them well enough until they decided to fuck each other behind my back.
"So," she says, scooping some ice cream into her mouth. She always eats like a pig the first week after fashion week. "Tell me how your vacation went. I can't believe I missed you dumping that asshole and having a hot month in Miami."
"It wasn't hot," I tell her, laughing. "It was...fulfilling."
"I bet. So who's the guy?"
"What guy?" I squeak instantly.
"Please, don't even pretend. I can tell you've had some recently. You're a lot more relaxed about the breakup than you were, like a switch flipped."
"Yeah. That's because I realized how much of an asshole he was."
"No, it's not just that. You also got your back blown out and realized how shitty he was in bed."
"Jenna!"
"What? It's the truth. The only people who could possibly like what he has to offer are girls too nice or too desperate to know better.”
“Gee thanks.”
“No, you’re the ‘too nice’ one. Claire’s the ‘too desperate’. And crazy. I told you there was something up with that girl, but I didn’t think she was stupid enough to pull this shit.” Jenna makes a face and I shake my head.
I don’t disagree with the anger, but I don’t like the fact that she calls Claire crazy and stupid, almost like she blames her for Eric’s cheating. “Well, she’s not the one who made the promises to me. Eric did.”
Jenna gives me a droll look. “Yeah, well, it’s not like she was a stranger either.
She was your friend too. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a thousand times worse.
He’s trash and deserves to die in the very bowels of hell, but she’s not off the hook.
Sleeping with your boyfriend and then blocking you…
not even so much an apology after all the years of friendship?
Just all around weirdo behavior from her.
” She waves her hand. “Anyway, enough changing the subject. I know you. Just tell me his name."
"There's no name," I laugh nervously. Jenna isn't convinced and keeps asking.
I stick by my pretenses, not spilling the beans even though I really want to talk to someone about it. And I will. Just not now.
This merger is important to my brother, and I want to focus all my time on it, without thinking about the three men I fucked.
At least that's the plan. But then I walk into my brother’s conference room the next day, ready for a meeting, and there they are.