11. Chloe
CHLOE
“Why do you look so pale?” Betty asks, as she hands me a plate of nachos that were brought to us. The same nachos that I was thinking about this morning but now can’t even look at them.
It's as if the whole nausea thing intensified the second that Dr. Long told me I was pregnant. It has to be a mine trick or something.
Just thinking about them has me gagging.
I debated not coming.
I debated staying home and thinking about everything that Dr. Long told me. Not only think but to also read through all the information that was handed to me as I was leaving.
For a solid three hours, I just sat on my bed and told myself that I shouldn’t come to the game. What would coming to the game accomplish? I wasn’t going to be able to tell Liam right away. There sure as hell wasn’t going to be any decisions being made while I sat in the stands.
But no matter how much my brain screamed to not come, I still got up, changed into my good jeans, and came to the game.
At the very least being at the game serve as a distraction from the hurricane that my life has turned into in just a short amount of time.
“My stomach just feels a little queasy, that’s all.” I tell my best friend.
“What did you eat today?” She asks, taking a bite of her hot dog.
Has eating at a sporting event always looked and smelled so gross?
Dr. Long did say that my sense of smell might get heightened but I didn’t think it would happen on day one of me finding out.
“Papas con huevo for breakfast and a chicken wrap for lunch.” I lie.
If I tell her that the only thing I’ve eaten has been some saltines and sucked on a lemon or two, she would question me beyond measure.
But of course my best friend knows me better than anything else.
“Why are you lying?” She looks at me with narrowed eyes.
I have two option here. Tell her the truth or continue to lie which she will properly see right through. I decided on option two.
“I’m not lying.”
Right away, she gives me a look that tells me that she doesn't believe me.
“Fine, don’t tell me, but something is seriously up with you. I thought you would be more excited to be here. Especially since you are getting laid.”
I cringe a little at the getting laid part.
That was definitely something I was looking forward to but now with my situation, it’s the last thing that I want to think about. Sex is what got us here.
“I’m excited to be here.” I say in return.
Betty gives me an uh-huh sound and takes another bite of her hotdog.
God, I wish I can eat one.
Hot dogs are one of my guilty pleasures, but right now all I can think about is how disgusting they are.
Will I get my love for hotdogs back?
“I thought you wanted nachos,” my friends interrupts my hot dog filled thoughts, and nods to the paper plate I have in my hands.
Looking at the staple food, if I wasn't pregnant I would have devoured them the second that they were handed to me. But they look gross and my stomach does not like what it’s seeing.
“They smell funny.” I say, not looking away from the plate. I’m sure my face is contorting in all different ways.
“They smell funny?” Betty asks, a little worried.
She takes the plate from my hand and takes a whiff of them, checking to see if they didn’t give me bad cheese. She sniffs them once and then twice and gives me a weird look.
I give her a nod hopefully not giving anything away.
But Betty is Betty. She can read through every single little thing even if she doesn’t know it.
“Upset stomach and nachos smelling funny. If you asked me I would say you might be pregnant.”
My whole body goes stiff and I can feel my expression contour a little bit. Of course, though, I don’t have enough time for me to recompose myself before Betty notices.
I watch her and it takes her a whole minute for it to all click for her and the second it does she gives me an expression that I probably gave Dr. Long.
Betty’s eyes look like saucers when she finally speaks.
“You’re pregnant?” my best friend asks in a whisper.
Given where we’re at, it’s surprising that I can even hear her.
But I can, so I give her a nod.
Admitting it makes it feel all that more real and I still can’t wrap my head around it. I have no idea how I’m supposed to feel. Not only that, what the hell am I supposed to do?
“And the father is…” Betty voices, her eyes moving over towards Liam where he’s skating on the ice.
The game officially started a little bit ago with the scoreboard telling me that they are in the second period with the Knights in the lead.
I haven’t paid the game a whole lot of attention, what with my body in crisis mode.
I give Betty a nod.
Of course Liam is the father. Of course one night with a professional athlete turned into a possible future of shared holidays and alternating days.
“Holy shit,” she states, her mouth forming an oh.
“Yup.” I say, because what else can I say? I can’t believe it myself.
“I’m guessing you haven’t told him,” she says, her eyes on the game.
I shake my head. “I found out this morning at my regular check up. I wasn’t going to tell him before the game. Hearing “hey, you knocked me up,” while he had skates on would have been bad.”
Even though all I wanted to do was tell him. The second that he asked if I was okay, I wanted to yell it out.
“But you are planning on telling him, right?” Betty turns to look at me, a worried look on her face.
I’ve been asking myself the same questions all day.
When I pictured myself having kids, I always thought that I would be in a committed relationship with someone I’ve known for years.
In that scenario we would be excited about the news and jumping up for joy.
I would be so excited that I wouldn’t waste any time calling my parents and telling them that they had the title of abuela and abuelo.
In this scenario I would also be in the next phase of my career and no longer dancing.
I pictured this whole thing so differently.
Now here I am at a hockey game, pregnant with the captain's baby, in the middle of my career not knowing what to do.
But one thing for sure, is that even though the scenario is different, even though me and Liam have only spent five days with each other, I’m still going to tell him.
I can control that much.
His reaction to the news is a whole different story. I don’t know him well enough to know how he will take it and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m a little scared to do it. I shouldn’t be, but I am.
“I am. After the game I’m going to tell him and then I’ll decide what to do.”
“Whatever you decide, I will be there for you no matter what.”
Years ago, Betty and I had a similar conversation. Except our roles were reversed. She thought about long and hard because she didn’t want to give up dancing. She and Cole talked about it long and hard and decided that they wanted to keep the pregnancy. I was there for emotional support.
I know that with whatever I decide to do, Betty will be there to support me no matter what. Both physically and emotionally.
“I know, and I love you because of it. I’m just really freaking out right now and my mind is running a thousand miles an hour.” Tears start to form in my eyes and even though I try so hard to keep things at bay, I fail and a sob escapes me in the middle of a hockey game.
Fingers crossed that now TV cameras are pointing in my direction because I sure as hell don’t need my breakdown to be all over the place.
Betty abandons her hotdog and wraps her arms around me, pulling me in closer and comforting me.
“Everything is going to be okay,” she says into my hair.
“What if it isn’t?” I hiccup back to her.
“It will be,” she reassures me.
“What if I make the wrong decision and then later regret it?” I ask her the one question that has been plaguing me all day.
I want to dance. I want to be the best damn dancer that the company has ever seen, but I also want to be a mom. I wanted to do both, but I wasn’t expecting to have to choose one or the other.
What happens if I make a decision and later down the line not only regret it but also resent it? What happens then?
Would I hate myself?
Betty?
What about Liam? Will I hate him too?
Or will he walk away and want nothing to do with any of it and leave all the heavy decision making to me?
So many damn questions.
“That won’t happen. I won’t let that happen. You will make the decisions that’s best for you right now and there will be no regrets about it. I promise.”
I let out another sob but it’s drowned out by the siren going off singling that a goal was made.
Lifting my head just enough off Betty’s shoulder, I watch the replay on the jumbotron and see that it was Liam who scored.
My eyes shift to where he is on the ice and the urge to puke comes back stronger than ever.
This pregnancy isn’t only going to affect my life, but it will also affect Liam’s.
If I decide to keep the baby, what is his life going to look like? Will it look the same or will it make it complete one-eighty?
I don’t know but I think that’s what terrifies me the most.
* * *
Liam was good with his word when he said that someone was going to come get me after the game.
Almost as soon as the last player left the ice, a security guard came to where Betty and I were sitting and offered to escort us back.
As much as she wanted to join me, Betty decided to head home. She said something about not wanting to impose in my conversation with Liam and called an Uber.
A part of me wishes that she would have stayed but a bigger part knows that if Betty were here, I would chicken out and not say anything to Liam. I would hold in the words and continue to pretend like absolutely nothing is wrong.
Right now, though, as I wait in a sea of wives, girlfriends, parents, children, and fans, I’m at the wishing stage of wanting Betty here.
I have to be a big girl and do this, even if I do want to puke.
Players start coming out and walking over to their loved ones. The whole time, I try to make myself appear small and hide within the crowd as best as I can.