Chapter One Beautiful Dreams #3
It’s not easy to get out from under the warm covers, but I rise and make my way to the bathroom to take care of business. But as soon as I sit down on the toilet, I feel a familiar sensation that makes me gasp. I shift a little to peer into the toilet bowl, and I see red.
My thoughts become Ping-Pong balls. First, I’m relieved.
Overwhelmingly so. But as I reach for the toilet paper, all I want to do is cry.
There’s no baby growing inside me, and Jacob and I won’t get engaged anytime soon.
Both realities make me wonder if I’ve ever known such disappointment in my life.
God, why did I let myself dream about holding our baby in my arms for the first time and sharing that moment with Jacob, making plans for the not-too-distant future? Wedding plans . . . financial plans . . . what color to paint the nursery . . .
After I flush the toilet, I stand at the sink and wash my hands.
This is a good thing, I tell myself. I’m only nineteen.
This isn’t the time for marriage and a baby.
Before I start that chapter of my life, I want to know how to run a business and learn the creative side of interior design.
And it goes without saying that I’d prefer not to tell my parents that I have to quit school because I got pregnant.
I hear the front door of the apartment open, so I return to bed, where I listen to Jacob remove his jacket and talk to Scooter in hushed tones.
When they return, I sit up. “Did he pee?”
“He did,” Jacob replies, “and I gave him a treat.”
Scooter follows Jacob to the bed and barks when he gets in.
“No,” Jacob firmly says. “This isn’t your bed. You sleep over there.” He points at the cushion, then gets up and leads Scooter toward it. “Good boy.” He rubs Scooter’s head, scratches behind his ears, and then joins me back under the covers.
I snuggle close. “Your hands are freezing.”
“It was foggy out there. Cold and wet.” He pulls me close. “I was wishing I had my long johns on.”
“Ooh, sexy . . . a lumberjack vibe.”
He laughs, and we snuggle close, but a pitiful wail causes both of us to sit up again.
Scooter peers at us with woeful puppy dog eyes, which rips my heart out. I clutch Jacob’s forearm. “Maybe we could bring him up here with us. Just for tonight.”
“There’s no such thing as ‘just for tonight.’ If he sleeps on the bed, he’ll expect to sleep with us forever.”
I consider it for a moment. “Would that be so bad?”
Jacob looks down at Scooter, who’s pulling out all the stops, his eyes full of hopeful desperation while he milks every ounce of sympathy he can muster.
Jacob starts to chuckle and hangs his head in defeat. “I guess this is it.”
He gets up and lifts Scooter onto the bed, where he becomes a snuggly teddy bear between us. Later, Scooter burrows under the covers and earns his keep as the best foot warmer money can buy.
I wake to the sound of the telephone ringing in the kitchen. Sitting up in a panic, worried that I’ve overslept and missed my 8:30 class, I glance at the alarm clock. It’s only 7:15, so I flop back down. Only then do I notice that I’m alone in bed.
The door opens, and Jacob walks in with the cordless telephone. “Yeah, just one sec. It’s Becky.”
He hands the phone to me, and I remember that I’d forgotten to call her the night before. “Hello?”
“Hey,” she says with a note of concern. “What happened last night? You didn’t call. Is everything okay?”
Jacob leaves the room, and I sit up on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry. I fell asleep.”
“Did you take the test?”
“I did,” I reply, “and it was negative.”
She exhales with a whistle. “Phew. You must be so relieved.”
“Yes, very,” I lie, because I’m afraid I might cry if I start to talk about it. “Did Jacob tell you what the surprise was?”
“Yes—that he got you a puppy. Holy banana pants!”
I reach for my bathrobe on the back of the chair and pull it on. “I know, right? His name is Scooter, and he’s sooo cute. Wait till you see him. But Jacob didn’t get him for me. He’s your brother’s dog. I’m just helping out.”
Becky laughs. “Sure. Just don’t let him rope you into cleaning out the crate.”
“I can’t make any promises. Scooter’s pretty hard to resist. He’s even cute when he’s pooping.” I glance at my watch. “But listen, I really have to go. I have a class at eight thirty. Can I call you tonight?”
“Don’t forget this time,” she says.
“I promise I won’t.” I hang up and hurry to get in the shower.
A short while later, as I stand under the nozzle and shampoo my hair, I ponder, at length, what my life is supposed to look like from this day forward.
Clearly a baby isn’t in the cards, at least not this month, which is probably for the best because I still want to be an interior designer, and Jacob needs to finish his degree.
I tell myself that we have plenty of time to build our lives together. We’re only just getting started.
But as I step out of the shower and dry off, I experience a strange twinge of apprehension that prickles through me.
Or is it a premonition? A sense that I may not always be in total control of my destiny?
You’d think the past twenty-four hours might have taught me a lesson about that, but clearly they haven’t.
I still want what I want—a fulfilling career, children, a dog, and a nice country house in the valley, which I’ll share with Jacob until death do us part.