25. Olivia
Olivia
ONE MONTH LATER
It's been a month since the dinner with Drake, and I haven’t spoken to my father.
I have good days and bad days, but I've never been more thankful for Drake and Callie.
Callie can't stand Drake, but she's at least putting on a supportive face to avoid stressing me out.
I think she might even be coming around to like him a little bit.
“I need to get you that Marie Kondo book as a housewarming gift because this is ridiculous,” Callie says as she loads a plastic tote filled with rarely used cooking utensils and tools into the back of the U-Haul truck.
She volunteered to spend her weekend helping me move into Drake's house, and I'm so grateful.
I laugh, lift a smaller bag, and put it in behind her. Even though I am moving out of our apartment, Callie has refused to let me do any heavy lifting. The most I can carry is a small suitcase and bags full of bedsheets.
“Drake could probably use that, too,” I joke, thinking about the various antique vases he has filled with dried palm leaves around his house and the closet filled with oil paintings he likes to shift around occasionally.
“Speaking of,” Callie says cautiously, dropping a box, and wiping the sweat from her brow. “Why isn't your man here to help with all the heavy lifting? Isn’t that the one thing they’re good for?”
“What an outdated mindset,” I jokingly chastise. “He's at lunch with his father.”
“And he didn't want you to come?” I can hear the skepticism in her voice, and there are myriad questions behind it. I look at her and shake my head with a soft laugh.
“It's a business lunch,” I say, watching as she slowly nods. “Plus, he said there's something personal he needs to talk to him about. Me being there would only make it more complicated.”
“Has he made up with your dad yet?”
“Neither of us have.” I try to focus on the present, reminding myself that my father will come around eventually. “He just needs time.”
I've tried calling my dad countless times and sent him a hundred text messages, but every time, he responds, “I need time. Love you Booger.”
“It's just a shame because there are so many important things related to the pregnancy that I want him to experience. I would love to go shopping for a crib with him, but I can't,” I say, more exhausted than sad at this point.
“Well, you always have me to tag along,” Callie says, wrapping an arm around me as we walk back to the apartment to gather the final few boxes.
It doesn't take long before everything is packed and we are climbing into the truck. Callie looks wistfully at the front door of the apartment we shared and sighs, looking at me fondly. “Say goodbye; you're never going to see this place again.”
“You're so dramatic,” I laugh, putting on my seatbelt. “I'm moving fifteen minutes away, not to North Korea.”
We laugh as we drive, catching up with people in her office as she tells me all the dramatic stories about her coworkers.
I try not to think about how much I'm going to miss spending time with her.
It's not like she and I will be estranged, but when one friend is raising a child, there are bound to be scheduling issues.
No more Saturday brunches and staying up late to binge-watch TV shows and drink orange juice and tequila.
When we get to Drake's house, Callie stands at the front of the U-Haul with her hands on her hip staring at the mansion that is now my home. I clap my hands on her back and laugh. “Don't worry, you can come over whenever you want.”
I lead her inside and give her the tour, watching as she oohs and ahhs over various paintings and pieces of furniture.
“I've always hated people who grew up with a silver spoon in their mouth, but I think I'm going to like your kid,” Callie says, leaning against the door frame to the guest bedroom Drake and I plan to turn into a nursery. “Especially if they split their allowance with their poor old godmother.”
“Trust me, this isn't going to be a spoiled trust fund baby,” I assure her. This is a conversation Drake and I have had several times, and we agree we want our child to stand on their own feet.
We head back out to the U-Haul and begin bringing boxes into the living room. The first two trips go fine, and we’re looking forward to being finished as quickly as possible.
On the third trip, as I am walking down the metal ramp, I start to feel light-headed and dizzy. I have to stop what I'm doing and set the light plastic tote down and take a seat. I've stood up too quickly and made myself dizzy plenty of times, but this is different.
I feel pressure rising in my body, and I don't know why, but I'm panicking. My heart beats faster, and a strange feeling in my stomach makes the anxiety worse.
“Liv, are you okay?” Callie asks, rushing to my side and kneeling on the metal ramp beside me.
I shake my head and hold my stomach, panting heavily as a panic attack starts to set in. “I don't know, I just feel strange.”
I explain how I'm feeling and watch as my panic spreads to her face. “Okay, I have no idea what this means, but let’s get you to the hospital. I'm sure everything is fine, but we should be safe.”
She helps me up, guides me to my car, and helps me into the passenger seat. I close my eyes and lean my head against the headrest as we drive away, listening as Callie calls Drake next and the call goes to voicemail. She tries again, and it doesn't go through.
“Come on, man, pick up your phone.” Callie calls him one more time before she stops at a red light and fires off a quick text message to let him know what's going on.
We pull into the emergency room parking lot, and I look at the front entrance, not wanting to get out to reveal what's going on with me.
I've gotten excited about the baby, and the thought of something happening is horrifying.
It hurts even more that I might be going through this without Drake here.