17. Olivia
Olivia
Two words that I never thought I would say at this point in my life play on repeat in my mind: I'm pregnant.
I've had sex once, and I'm pregnant.
I'm pregnant and everything I've worked so hard for all my life is going to slip through my fingers.
I don't even have a boyfriend, and I'm pregnant.
I'm pregnant with Drake Vance's baby.
As soon as I get home, I collapse on the couch. I've only known for three days, and it's been the most stressful three days of my life. I've been nauseous but unable to eat, and a stress migraine has been brewing behind my eyes since brunch on Saturday. I don't know how long I can go on like this.
Drake is bound to find out about this eventually. And what am I supposed to tell my father?
“Still spiraling, I see?” Callie asks as she plops on the couch beside me. I didn't even hear her come in. I was far too focused on the nature documentary I was completely tuning out while I contemplated my recent life choices.
“Me? Never.” I curl into the fetal position while Callie locks her eyes on me.
I know she's been waiting to talk about what's going on.
I'll eventually have to come to terms with this, but I don't even know how to begin.
What's happening is unthinkable. I never thought I would end up here at this point in my life.
“Did you talk to Drake today?” Callie asks, turning off the TV, and sliding on the floor to look me in the eye as I lie on my side.
I huff and roll my eyes as I think about my encounter with Drake.
Of course, he doesn't know that I'm pregnant.
I'm still debating whether to tell him. If he knows, it opens many avenues for everyone at work to find out.
On top of that, I don't understand why he wants to bring finances into this by investing in my restaurant.
“Not about anything important,” I say to Callie, sitting up reluctantly.
She slides back on the couch and watches me closely as I work up the nerve for the conversation I need to have.
“What am I supposed to do about this? If I tell him, it will complicate things.
But if I don't tell him, he's going to notice my pregnant belly eventually, and I think he'll be able to do the math.”
Callie scooches closer to me and grabs my hand. My nerves are overwhelming, and she is doing everything she can to calm me, which I appreciate more than I can express.
“You have options. You know that, right?” she says, her voice low and serious. “No matter what you decide, I'm here for you. But you do need to figure something out. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your time is kind of limited.”
“I know,” I say, leaning back on the couch. I've been so out of it that I haven't even thought about my options. This won’t just disappear, and I'm going to have to live with my decision. “Anytime I've seen something like this happen on TV, it's looked so much easier.”
“I know. I'm here to help.” She pulls me in for a hug. Callie is the first woman in my life who's cared about me since my mom died, and right now, her showing this maternal support is instrumental to my mental health. If I didn't have her, I would have already snapped.
“Realistically, I have a few options that I can pursue,” I begin. “I can carry it to term and give birth, but what do I do afterward? Or, I can...”
The words linger in the air between us, and I know I don't need to say them, but if it's something I'm going to seriously consider, I should be able to say it out loud.
“Termination would mean there would be very little impact on your life in terms of your career and long-term goals,” Callie finishes the thought for me. I feel a chill run through me at the idea of having an abortion. It's not something I thought I would ever consider. “Are you okay?”
She jumps up and gets me some water before sitting back down beside me. “I'm fine. This is just heavy.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes while I think about the possibilities. I know I don't have to make a decision tonight, but whatever I come up with right now is my gut reaction, which I have to give consideration to.
“I don't know if I could go forward with termination,” I say, holding my hand over my stomach. There's nothing wrong with it, but the idea of going through the procedure alone makes me nauseous.
“You realize that means you'll have to tell Drake,” Callie says, apprehension heavy in her voice. I nod and inhale sharply, running through countless iterations of that conversation in my head. “Are you thinking you would want to raise the baby yourself?”
I freeze. I don't know if I can imagine myself as a mother.
Some of my happiest memories were the ones I shared with my mom, but I got to spend so little time with her, and I don't know if I would know how to be a mother.
At the same time, there isn't any right way, and I think I have enough love in my heart to give my child an incredible life.
But what about Drake? If I have this baby and decide to raise it alone, will he be a part of its life? Even if I quit my job and worked somewhere else, Drake would find out about the pregnancy. As much as I wish I could hide this from him, I can’t.
“I don't know if I'll be able to raise a child,” I admit, feeling surprisingly somber at the realization.
“There's always adoption,” Callie says, sitting up to try to keep my spirits high.
“A lot of people are looking for children.
It would be helping another couple. Some adoption agencies let you meet the couples while you're pregnant so you know who would be adopting. That could be worth looking into.”
I smile, letting her know her advice isn't falling on deaf ears.
She grabs her laptop from her bedroom, and we begin looking over the process for adoption.
I don't know if it's necessarily what I want to do at this moment, but it doesn't hurt to be well-informed.
We look over various agencies and the process involved in finding adoptive parents.
A surprising number of them offer payment to the mothers, which feels odd to me.
After a few hours, Callie closes the laptop, and I am not any clearer in my decision, but I feel better having discussed it.
“I know it's not a fun conversation, but if you're going to be carrying a baby to term, you have to tell Drake,” Callie says nervously. “Sure, you can wear loose-fitting clothes for a while, but that won’t work long term.”
“I hate it when you're right,” I sigh. “I’ll tell him on Friday.”