3. Maya
MAYA
“Maya, I was just wondering if you could—”
“Sorry, Dyl, can you give me a minute?” I call back into the bar, as I pull out my phone and see that I’m getting a call.
It’s not a number I have saved, though it’s hardly as though I have dozens of friends kicking around who are just waiting to hear from me. But there’s only one person this could be, and I know, whatever they have to say, it’s going to send my life spinning on its axis all over again.
Dylan cocks an eyebrow from behind the bar, where she’s unloading some beer and wine into the shelves beneath the counter.
“Sure,” she replies. “Why don’t you take your break, take a walk? Doesn’t do you any good, being cooped up in here all day...”
“You’re right,” I agree, and I head outside, the phone going silent in my hand.
Guess I’ll have to call them back. As tempting as it is to just ignore the number and hope for the best, I know that’s not how this works.
I can look the other way as much as I want, but the truth is, if the test came back positive, then I’m going to know about it sooner or later anyway.
And it’s better to dive into this head-first.
The first time it crossed my mind was nearly two weeks ago, when it struck me that my period hadn’t come for a couple of months.
Which was odd for me, because, even with the death of my father and all the stress that had come piling down on me to handle his estate and debts, I hadn’t missed a period.
I was sure it was nothing, but it was better to be on the safe side than to let my mind run away with the idea, right?
I figured the best course of action would be to make a doctor’s appointment. I knew that those little plastic tests you could get at the drugstore could come back wrong, and that’s all I would be able to think about regardless of the result that came up.
So, I’d booked at the clinic, and had taken the test just before I had headed off to work. The nurse had told me that I was welcome to stick around and wait for the results to come in, as they shouldn’t take long, but I had insisted I had places to be.
Truth was, if I sat around there, I’d just drive myself fucking crazy with all the possibilities. I told them to give me a call when they had the results.
And here we are.
If I’m pregnant… it’s a stranger’s baby.
We didn’t use protection, and as stupid as I can now see that is, it’s not like I can just go back and undo what happened between us.
But at least it’s not Artem’s. I had period after the last time I was with him.
I dial the number back and wrap my arms around myself as I step into the back alley behind the bar, glancing inside to make sure Dylan isn’t keeping watch on me. I really don’t feel like explaining to her what is going on.
Or anyone, for that matter.
“Hi!” A bright voice comes over the line and I nearly jump out of my skin, having half-forgotten I was on a call at all.
“Oh, uh, hi!” I exclaim, trying to match the energy of the woman greeting me. “Sorry, I just missed a call from your office. Maya. Maya Martins...”
“Oh, yes, let me put you through to Doctor Wagner,” she replies, and I hear some tapping and a beep before the phone starts to ring again. I rub my thumb and forefinger together on my other hand, trying something, anything, to distract from what is going on inside my head right now.
“Doctor Wagner speaking.”
“Hi, Doctor Wagner,” I greet her, her brusque tone pulling me sharply back into the moment. “Sorry I missed your call. I was... I was wondering if you had the results of my test back yet?”
I wince, closing my eyes as I hear her rustling paper on the other end of the line.
“Yes, we did,” she replies. “It was positive.”
My heart stops. “Po-positive?” I reply, my voice taking on a sudden and unnaturally high-pitched tone. “You’re sure? it couldn’t have been wrong…?”
“We’re sure,” she replies curtly. “We take blood and urine for analysis, and they both showed that you were pregnant. Based on your last period, it appears you’re about eight weeks along.”
She continues to talk, but I’m too shocked to reply, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to take in the enormity of everything that she is saying to me.
This can’t be real, can it? I almost find myself waiting for her to explode with laughter, tell me it was all a joke and that I’ve got nothing to worry about…
But I don’t think that’s going to happen.
“Hello? Ms Martins?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry, I’m still here,” I reply, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingertips. I feel like I’m going to throw up. Or is that just morning sickness, given that I’m pregnant? I have no idea.
“If there’s anything you need help with, any next steps you want to consider,” she continues, her voice dropping slightly, as though she can tell that I’m completely thrown by this. “Please don’t hesitate to book another appointment with us. I can get you a—”
“I’m fine, thanks,” I reply. “Thank you for your help, Doctor Wagner.”
And with that, I hang up.
I know, by rights, I should be considering the options she’s going to lay out for me, but I really don’t want to have to deal with that right now.
Jesus, even the thought of it, the thought of actually having a child is enough to make my knees tremble beneath me.
I press my hand into the damp wall beside me, staring at a spot on the ground. I need to go home. I need to get out of here. There’s no way I can just smile and put on the game face when I found out I managed to get myself pregnant by a man I don’t even know...
Oh my god. Panic starts to rise in my chest.
I manage to yell something in Dylan’s direction, to let her know that I’m getting the heck out of here and that she shouldn’t bother calling me. I can hear her yelling protests after me, but I don’t care.
I just need to leave. I need to put as much fucking space between myself and this place as I can and get home because…
I’m fucking pregnant.
This couldn’t have come at a worse time.
I feel the tears prick the backs of my eyes as I wander in the direction of my apartment, hardly aware of where I’m even going, just certain that it needs to be away from all of this.
I have no money, and my father’s debts are piling on top of me, impossible to escape.
I have no room to live, and I’ll be off the health insurance in just a few weeks.
And when that happens, how am I meant to support a child?
Of course, I could turn to the father to help.
That’s what anyone else would have done in this scenario, if they were smart, if they weren’t as much of an idiot as me and hadn’t slept with someone without so much as getting their name before it happened.
I sink down at the side of the road, pressing my hands on to my knees and trying to pull myself together, but it doesn’t do much.
I can feel a few people glancing at me, but I don’t care.
Dark shadows swim in front of my vision, and I inhale deep, unsteady breaths, attempting to drag myself back down to earth, even as I find myself spinning out of control.
What was it Wagner had said to me? That there were options, if I wanted to discuss them?
I know what she’s getting at, of course, and it’s something that I’m going to have to consider. I’m in no position, financially or otherwise, to raise a child, and any life that I could give them would be limited by the weight of money troubles and paying off my father’s debt. And yet...
And yet, as I look down at my belly, I feel a deep pang of sadness at the thought of not going through with this pregnancy.
I’ve already lost so much as it is—my father was the last family that I had, and, even if he has revealed himself to be the worst kind of shithead in the months since his death, his absence has left me feeling more alone than ever.
This baby, as tiny as they might be right now, feels like a small lifeline to an existence I might actually be able to make some sense of.
I notice a few more people staring at me and decide the best course of action is to take a second to gather myself. I duck down an alleyway that leads off the main thoroughfare, and lean back against the wall, catching my breath.
See? It’s all going to be okay. It’s been months since I last laid eyes on Artem, and I’m sure he’s lost interest in me by now, no doubt moved on to the next girl he wants to get his teeth into.
Everything is fine. I’ll figure it out.
But… What if he finds out about this pregnancy? No doubt he’ll be convinced that he’s the father. He strikes me as the type to believe that it all revolves around him in that way.
My mind flashes back to the man who came after me, the way he spoke to me, his lip curled into a sneer of disgust as he gripped my arm. The bruises took weeks to fade, a reminder of what I’d gotten myself into, and I’ll never let that happen again.
I straighten up, glancing up and down the alleyway through my tear-blurred gaze. I just need to get home, then I can figure out what I’m going to do next, and we can take it all from there...
However, just as I turn to head off, I hear something.
Something... something familiar. I whip around, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end as footsteps rush towards me.
For a moment, I think it must be Dylan, someone from work, coming after me to make sure that I see out the end of my shift…
But then, I feel someone grab me by the arm, yanking back towards them roughly, and I know it couldn’t be Dylan.
My heart drops. No. I should have stayed at the bar, coming out has only left me vulnerable.
What the hell am I doing? I try to scream out, but before I can, a hand clamps over my face, rendering me silent.
“Nobody to help you this time,” a voice growls in my ear—the same voice that terrified me all those weeks ago, when that man had me pinned against my door as he threatened me.
And then, he moves something in front of my face. It takes me a second to make sense of what it is, a heavy, chemical scent filling my senses. My vision blurs and my knees grow weak beneath me.
I scramble to try and escape, to try and put as much distance between myself and this man as I can, but it is already too late for that.
The world swirls into a helpless blackness, and the last thing I’m aware of before everything closes in around me is the feeling of that man’s arms gripping me—and the knowledge that, whatever I might have escaped last time…
I will not be so lucky this time around.