5. Anya
CHAPTER 5
If I ever find him, I'll tear his throat out," I mutter in disbelief, unable to comprehend that the seemingly genuine and kind guy would leave me without a word. We had such a great time together, and I was convinced he was the one for me.
With a sigh, I bend down to pick up the puppy that I assisted in delivering earlier today. The mother bares her teeth at me, and I bare mine right back at her. Despite my anger, taking care of this little pup helps calm me down.
It’s been an entire month since that night with Brandon. He’d left before I woke up, and the asshole didn’t even care to leave his number or a note.
He just disappeared into thin air as if he’d never existed. Looks like I read him wrong after all. All that gentleman act was just to get in my panties, and he vanished the moment he did.
“Relax,” Gianna says over the phone. “Maybe something happened. Maybe he died.”
“Then he better stay dead.” I don’t mean it. No matter how upset I am, I don’t want Brandon dead, but it’s hard to be nice when he made a fool out of me. I rest my back on the wall behind me as a wave of dizziness hits me. I’m stressed out.
As if struggling with my final-year project wasn’t enough, I have to think of Brandon and the tiny possibility that something happened to him. I wonder if aliens dragged him out of my apartment or something.
Gianna chuckles. “You and your temper. How are you holding up, girl?”
“Aside from Mr. Moore trying to kill me with his assignments and the fact that I get dizzy and want to throw up most of the time, I’m fine.”
Mr. Moore is my final-year project supervisor. I swear the man is obsessed with draining me. I got a call from his vet nurse to help with a c-section for one of his huskies this morning. The poor dog had only one puppy in her and was long overdue, but her cortisol level was too low to induce labor. He’d planned the elective c-section two weeks ago, but he chose to inform me today because apparently, I should’ve known. He’s not wrong though, I should’ve known. That’s the only way I can ever be a good vet.
“Are you sick?” she asked with concern.
“Stressed. But I’ll make out time to visit the hospital when I’m done with work today.” I reply with a weary tone.
“Anya.” I hate it when Gianna calls my name so quietly; it always signals trouble. “You used a condom, didn’t you?”
“We did.” Though I’m a little worried that my period is about seven days late, but that happens whenever I’m stressed out too.
Mr. Moore walks in, his blue eyes gleaming as he glances at the puppy I’m holding.
“I’ll call you back, Gigi.” I hang up and toss my phone in the pocket of my lab coat.
Mr. Moore wears a pair of gloves and takes the puppy from me. “He’s so cute,” he says, looking at the pup as if it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. “Have you thought of a name for it yet?’’
“Nope.” I smirk, already thinking of the perfect name for him. “How about Brandon?”
Mr. Moore arches an eyebrow skeptically. “Brandon? Sounds a bit too human, don't you think?”
“Nah, it's perfect!” I exclaim, pointing dramatically at the pup's adorable face. “Just imagine him running around with all the other pups in the park and hearing someone call out 'Brandon'...it just fits!”
Mr. Moore hesitates, unsure about naming the puppy the name I suggested, but eventually gives in with a laugh. “Alright, alright. You win. Brandon it is.” He scribbles down the name on the adoption papers. “I'll be sending this little guy off to Mr. White. His friend’s granddaughter has been begging for a puppy .”
I am chuffed. I wish Brandon was here to see his namesake. It would be a fun meeting. I giggle as I imagine how upset it would make him. “Good. I’ll raise him for two or three months, then she can have it.”
Mr. Moore nods. “By the way, Anya. Is everything okay with you? You’ve been looking a little pale lately.”
I want to tell him it’s mostly his fault I look pale. I’d be getting a good night’s sleep if he didn’t wake me up so early every morning, but I hold back. I can’t get on his bad side when I’m so close to the finish line. “I’ve been a little sick lately. I’ll go see a doctor if I have time today.”
“Oh, you can have the rest of the day, Anya,” he says to my surprise. “Your hard work has been greatly appreciated around here." His words fill me with warmth and gratitude as I realize my efforts have not gone unnoticed. With a grateful nod, I thank him for the unexpected break. The sunlight streaming through the windows seems to brighten even more as I make my way out of the office.
Surprisingly, I find the smell of moringa comforting considering the smell of everything else makes me retch.
As the last drops of tea slide down my throat, I can feel their warmth spreading through my body. I relish in the comforting sensation before bracing myself for a cold shower. The icy water hits my skin like tiny needles, awakening me from my drowsiness. My hair clings to my face and neck as I quickly dry off and slip into the most comfortable clothes I own: a pair of loose, gray sweatpants and an oversized white shirt that envelopes me like a hug. I grab a tote bag and carefully place a few essential items inside before stepping out into the bustling city streets. The sun shines brightly, casting warm rays on my skin and filling me with energy.
I’d take a taxi, but I still need a few thousand steps to meet my daily goal. I’m passing by a pharmacy when the creeping thought of being pregnant makes my stomach summersault.
I stop walking and stare at the glass doors. If I walk in there, I can get a pregnancy test and rid myself of this worry. But deep down, I know what the result might turn out to be.
I tighten my grip on my tote bag and briskly walk over to the drug store. My legs wobble slightly as I purchase a few strips and make my way back to my apartment. I drop my bag onto the floor, kick off my shoes, and drag myself to the bathroom. After three minutes pass, I nervously intertwine my fingers and feel beads of sweat form on my forehead as I wait for the result.
My heart is pounding so hard, I think it might burst. I flip the pregnancy test strip over and see two distinct red lines. My body instantly goes cold as reality sinks in. This can't be happening. I take out another strip and repeat the test, but the result is the same - two unmistakable red lines. By the third test, I collapse to the bathroom floor in acceptance of the truth - I am pregnant.
I’m pregnant by a man I barely know. By a man who left me right after we had sex. I don’t even know his last name and I don’t have his freaking number.
Tears blur my vision, and I can't stop trembling as I stare at the positive test strips. Part of me wants to believe it's all just a cruel joke, but deep down, I know it's not. The missed period and morning sickness are already clear signs. Running my hands through my hair, I force myself to push back the tears. Now is not the time to cry; I need to come up with a plan to get out of this situation quickly.
An hour passes, and I’ve come up with absolutely no idea how to handle it. I’m still in my final year and I’m only twenty-three.
Fuck.
The tiles of my bathroom floor are getting colder by the minute. It’s seeping into my veins and making me want to vomit.
I shoot up to my feet and scurry to the living room where I left my tote bag. I find my phone and call the only person I can confide in. Gianna won’t judge me. She’s never done that and I’ve been closer to her than anyone else.
She answers on the first ring as if she’s been expecting my call. She greets me with a cheerful "Hey, cuz." However, I know her mood will change when I tell her the news. "Did you end up going to the doctor? Are you feeling any better?" she asks.
I feel a tightness in my chest. "Gianna..." I can only imagine how she'll react when I tell her. She must have picked up on the seriousness in my voice because she asks, "Is everything alright?"
I shake my head, as if she’s standing right in front of me. “No,” I say quietly. I swallow to push down the lump in my throat. “I’m not okay.”
“If you sound like that, then I guess it’s pretty serious.” She huffs out a worried sigh. “Tell me. Are you pregnant?”
Pregnant. My pulse rate doubles at the word. “Yes.”
There’s a long palpable silence. I grit my teeth and try not to cry as I wait for her to say something. Anything at all.
“Is Spencer the father?” She clears her throat. “I mean, have you guys been hooking up since your breakup?”
A part of me wants to cringe at the thought of being pregnant by Spencer, but the other part of me wishes it was him. At least I know where to find him. He’s a total dick, but he’d be by my side until we worked this out. Or maybe not.
“It’s not his,” I reply. Recalling that Spencer and I had stopped sharing a bed long before we broke up. My eyes and throat are burning. I’m close to shivering. “It’s the guy I met at the bar a month ago.”
“The one you told me about?”
“Yes.” I nod my head slowly and sink onto one of the couches in the room. My eyes flicker over to the three-seater where Brandon and I had shared an intimate moment. The memories come rushing back, eliciting a mix of emotions as I reflect on every touch, kiss, and word that was exchanged. If only I had known how things would turn out, perhaps I would have been more cautious.
“So, you’re pregnant by a guy you don’t know?” She’s not judging me, but I get the feeling she’s pissed. Not at me, but at Brandon for leaving the way he did.
“Yes.” For some reason, that’s the only word I can bring myself to say.
She’s quiet again, thinking. “How about checking the bar where you met him? He could be there.”
“I doubt it. He hasn’t been there for over a month now.” I’ve checked that bar almost every weekend, there’s been no sign of him or his friends. It’s almost as if they were ghosts. I asked the bartender from that night, and he asked if Brandon had hurt me. When I told him no, he turned me away saying he couldn’t give out any information unless it regarded my safety.
Dammit, I should’ve lied or something.
“I know this is going to be hard on you, Anya,” Gianna says softly. “But you need to decide if you’re going to keep the baby or—”
“I won’t do it,” I blurt, my voice trembling with anger. How dare she suggest such a thing? My options are limited, but killing this innocent life growing inside me is not one of them. The thought alone makes bile rise in my throat. “No, there’s nothing to think about. This baby deserves a chance at life.”
“Don’t be rash, darling. You’re still so young and have your whole future ahead of you.”
I lean against the comfortable couch and gaze up at the ceiling fan as it spins above me. She's right, I am young with my whole life ahead of me. This pregnancy was not part of my plans, especially not under these circumstances, from a fleeting encounter. Yet, I cannot bring myself to end this growing life inside of me.
"Are you still there?" she asks. "Please say something."
"I'm keeping it," I declare firmly. "Even though I don't know who the father is, this child belongs to me as well." Tears cascade down my cheeks. "I will finish school and find a job. I will raise my baby."