23. Meghan
TWENTY-THREE
Meghan
I ’ve been with my dad for the past two weeks and in that time, we’ve organized my mom’s funeral, sorted out her accounts, and attended her service. Alex came for the service and stayed for a week to help out.
We gave my mom a beautiful send off with all of her favorite people there, dressed in their brightest outfits. She’d always said when she passed, she wanted her funeral to be a celebration of her life with not a single lick of black in sight—we just didn’t know she’d be gone so soon.
I’ve agreed with my dad that I’ll stay in town for another week and then I’m going back to New York. He wants me to live my life. I don’t want to leave him just yet, but deep down I know that my mom would want me to continue living my life too and not to put it on hold for her or my dad.
Since arriving I’ve built a bit of a routine; in the mornings, I get up and make us breakfast, then go for a long hike out on the trails. Anything really to distract myself from everything going on.
I’d have lunch at home before sorting through some of my mom’s things. Initially, I wanted to avoid doing it. Going through her things so soon after her death seemed a bit… cold, but it has made me feel closer to her in a way.
Cooper and I spoke every night for the first week and he sent flowers for my mom’s funeral, but I haven’t spoken to him for a few days outside of text messages.
I know he has a big case that’s just started, so it’s to be expected, but I can’t help feeling like things have changed between us, like we’re more distant than before I left the city.
Obviously there is distance between us. I’m on the opposite side of the country to him, but this is different.
I should be in the best shape of my life, what with hiking for hours each day, but I’ve felt off for the past week. It’s like all the energy has been zapped out of me.
When I couldn’t gather the strength to move from the couch, my dad insisted I make an appointment with my old doctor, so that’s where I’m currently sitting.
Another thing that’s been worrying me, but my dad isn’t aware of, is that I’m late.
It wasn’t until the day of my mom’s funeral, when my Aunt Kath had mentioned my niece had started her period, that I realized I’m at least a month late with mine.
I'm not normally super regular, but I’ve never been this late before .
I have no doubt that the doctor is going to confirm how I’ve been feeling can be attributed to stress or depression at the loss of my mom.
The nurse calls out my name, pulling me from my thoughts, and I follow her down the corridor to the exam room in a daze. I feel like I’ve been in a constant haze since I got the call from my dad. Like nothing is clear, nor will it ever be.
“Hi Meghan, it’s been a long time since I last saw you,” Dr. Weston greets me as I walk into the exam room. “I’m sorry about your mom,” he continues, sympathy etched across his face as I take a seat in the chair next to his desk. “How has New York been treating you?”
I was a patient of Dr. Weston’s from before I was born, right up until I moved to New York.
He’s in his early fifties, with dark salt and pepper hair that is cropped short, and chocolate brown eyes hidden behind a pair of tortoise reading glasses.
I guess some people may find him attractive for an older man.
“Thanks, Dr. Weston. And it’s been good, still finding my feet, even after all this time,” I reply, not wanting to go into too much detail about my mom for fear I’ll break down.
It’s been happening more frequently than I’d care to admit.
I haven’t been unable to keep a lid on my emotions since I got the call. A lot has changed since then.
Dr. Weston finishes typing up something on his computer before he turns his chair toward me, removing his glasses to give me his full attention .
“So, what can we help you with today?”
“Well, I’ve been feeling run down and my period is about thirty days late. Although, as you know, it’s never been consistent.”
“Okay, so there could be a couple of reasons for this, stress being one.” He looks at me sympathetically before he continues. “Is there a chance you could be pregnant?” he asks, turning back to his computer so he can type up his notes.
“I mean, there’s a possibility, but I’m on the pill and haven’t missed a single one.” Panic creeps into me at the possibility.
I can’t be pregnant.
“Okay, although the pill alone isn’t one hundred percent effective, we can quickly rule this out as the cause of your symptoms. Given the reason for your return... it’s very possible your body could just be reacting to the stress.” He tries to placate me, noticing my barely concealed panic.
My mind is running a mile a minute with questions. The biggest one being, if I truly am pregnant, will Cooper want anything to do with us?
I had a plan. It involved going back to New York and speaking to Cooper, telling him how I feel—because life’s too short. That plan goes out the window if I’m pregnant. I’d need to feel him out, see if he wants kids at all before I drop the bomb of a baby.
I’m interrupted from my wandering thoughts when Dr. Weston hands me a cup and directs me to the bathrooms .
Handing over my sample, I wait in the waiting room for what feels like hours. With nothing to do but go over an endless loop of what if’s, I’m practically hyperventilating when the nurse calls me back. The walk to Dr. Weston’s office is simultaneously the longest of my life and far too quick.
“Thank you for waiting, Meghan. So the test is showing as positive for pregnancy. We can do an ultrasound to see how far along you are. If that is something that you would like to do today, or you can come back tomorrow… if you need time,” Dr. Weston announces, as if he hasn’t just turned my life upside down.
My first thought is that Cooper and I made a baby. I want to smile and be happy at this little being growing inside of me.
My second thought is I’m going to be a mom and my mom isn’t here to help me. This causes me to break down in Dr. Weston’s office and he comforts me before calling my dad when I become inconsolable.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t want to get rid of my baby or give it away. I wish my mom was here. She’d give me one of her famous hugs, the ones that ease all worries, no matter how big or small they seem.
“Sweetheart?” my dad calls from my doorway .
Although Dr. Weston called him, he couldn’t tell him why, and I didn’t have the capacity to divulge that information to him on the drive home. Understandably, he’s been worried and sporadically checking in on me since we got home two hours ago.
I shut myself in my room, trying to process the news.
“Hi, Dad,” I murmur as I sit up on my bed. It’s the first words I’ve spoken to him since he picked me up.
“Are you okay? I’ve been worried.” He makes his way further into my room and I hold a hand out to him as I pat the spot next to me with the other.
No time like the present to tell him he’s going to be a grandpa.
“So… I guess I should tell you why Dr. Weston called you,” I mumble as I fiddle with my hands in my lap.
“That would be nice, but only if you’re ready,” he says, covering my hands with his own.
Pulling in a deep breath in an effort to give myself the strength needed, I look up at his soft face. I don’t want to disappoint him. I genuinely have no idea how he will react to his only child getting pregnant after having an illicit affair with her boss.
“I-I’m… I’m pregnant,” I blurt out.
“Oh, that’s… wow,” he stutters.
“I’m sorry,” I cry. Tears stream down my cheeks and I angrily brush them away. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you.”
He pulls me into his embrace, and I inhale his unique scent, taking comfort in him. “Oh, sugar, you haven’t disappointed me. I’m just surprised that’s all. This is good news.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m certain. I’m just sad your mom isn’t here to hear the news. We didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”
“I… well, that’s the thing. It was only a… casual thing. He’s… he’s my boss.” This is such an awkward conversation to be having with my dad. I want to bury my head in the sand and pretend everything is as it should be.
“Oh, okay. And he doesn’t want a relationship with you?” he asks with no judgment in his tone.
“That’s the thing, we agreed to keep it casual, but it hasn’t ever really felt casual for me. I had planned to go back and tell him how I felt, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea now.”
“Why not? Your feelings haven’t changed since you found out, right?”
“Well, no, they haven’t,” I mutter, looking down at my fingers as I play with the hem of my sweater.
“So nothing should change just because you’ve created a life together.
If you both have feelings for each other, then this baby will just make your bond stronger.
If he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, then at least he will know and you can both make a decision on how to proceed together.
Either way, he deserves to know about the baby and you deserve to not hide your feelings. ”
I don’t respond to him, just letting what he’s said sink in .
Standing from his spot on the edge of my bed, he drops a kiss on the top of my head before leaving me to think over my next steps.
Deep down I know he’s right, there is only one thing to do when I get back to New York.