Chapter 19 #2
Crud. He’s asked multiple times, and I keep forgetting to grab a litter box, litter, and cat food from the grocery store. “Not today, but the next time we go to the grocery, I promise we’ll get some supplies so we can have kitten sleepovers.”
While Oliver happily plays with his Legos, and Violet chats with her favorite stuffed animal, I think about which cat I’d be comfortable bringing home for the night, because I know once I allow one to come into my apartment, it won’t be going back to the bookstore.
“Where is everybody?” Oliver asks, anger evident in his tone. There’s no one to greet, and he’s pissed about it.
“I don’t know,” Whitley says easily. “While we wait, do you want to watch an episode of Bluey on my phone?”
“Yes!” Oliver shouts, yanking the phone from her hands. He skips over to the small child-size table I have in the corner, in the children’s books section, and focuses completely on the episode, giving Whitley time to grill me.
“So what happened last night? How did he take the news?” she asks.
I sigh. “I didn’t tell him.”
“What? Why not?”
“I just — I couldn’t, Whit,” I blurt out, tears filling my eyes.
“I haven’t even been to the doctor yet. What if it was a false positive?
Or what if I miscarry again? I don’t know why I did before, and now I’m so much older.
It may not even be viable. I can’t tell him if I’m just going to have to rip it out of his hands right away. ”
“Oh, El,” she whispers. “You can’t think about it that way. You don’t know how he’ll react, but you’re assuming he’ll blame you for something you don’t control. Maybe you need to give Leo a little more credit.”
“But things are going well, and I know I won’t be able to survive another breakup with him,” I admit softly.
“Every day that you spend more time with him, you’re going to fall deeper in love. It’s only going to get harder to handle. Plus, the longer you wait? The more angry he’s going to be at you hiding it from him,” she points out.
“What if he thinks I did this on purpose to trap him?”
“Okay, you’re really grasping at straws here. Leo has never accused you of anything like that. I don’t know him well, but from everything you’ve told me, he’s got the patience of a saint, and he’s incredibly even-keeled. He’d never think so poorly of you.”
She’s right. I’m so scared to tell him about the pregnancy that I’m looking for any possible reason not to. “I don’t know how to tell him, Whit.”
She gives me a kind smile, and grabs onto my shoulders, moving me so I’m facing her.
“Let’s have a little practice. I’ll be Leo.
You only have to say, ‘hey, stud. Thanks for boinking me so good a couple of months ago. Turns out, you dropped some offspring in there. You cool with a lifetime of this?’”
I snort in disbelief. “Incredibly eloquent.”
Whitley shrugs. “I mean, you can paraphrase however you want. But the gist is the same. He needs to know, Ella. You can’t hide this forever, especially if the boinking continues. He’ll figure it out eventually. Now give it a try.”
“Okay.” Inhaling, I look at Whitley, who nods reassuringly. “Hey, Leo. Remember a few months ago?”
“Do I ever!” Whitley says rambunctiously. “Gave it to ya good, didn’t I?”
I giggle. “Something like that. Well, remember how I said it probably was a good time of the month since we didn’t use any protection?”
Whitley’s eyes bug out of her head. “Oh, shit. Yeah. You know how I like it raw.”
“Jesus, Whit. That is not how he sounds.”
“How am I supposed to know?” she says, throwing up her hands. “I figure he sounds all growly and alpha with you!”
“Not like that. You sound gross and frat-boy. Leo is a lot more composed.”
“Fine,” she says with a loud sigh. “Oh, yeah. I forgot I didn’t wrap it up. Is that better?”
“I guess,” I reply with a huff. “Anyway, I think I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”
“See?” she shouts. “Was that so hard? Wait. I guess it was hard, or it wouldn’t have worked right.”
“Whitley!” I gasp, laughing.
“I guess it probably won’t go as well as this conversation did, but I’m superior in all things. What can I say?”
“Your modesty is remarkable,” I comment dryly.
“It’s a gift.” Whitley grins, then sobers. “What would make this easier for you? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I don’t know. I think once I get in to see an obstetrician and have them confirm the pregnancy is valid, I’ll feel more comfortable. I didn’t even know I was pregnant the last time until I was miscarrying, so I guess I didn’t have time to wrap my head around it all.”
“I think it would have been even worse if you had, El,” she replies softly. “Your heart would have gotten even more invested. The guilt you feel now would potentially have doubled or tripled.”
“I don’t agree. If I had known, I’d have taken better care of myself. I was so miserable I wasn’t eating right. I know I had alcohol multiple times, and there were days I barely ate anything at all. That couldn’t have been healthy. What if that contributed to the miscarriage?”
“Did anyone tell you it may have been your fault?” she asks pointedly.
“Well, not exactly, but —”
“No, girl. There is no ‘not exactly’ option here. Either someone told you it was your fault, or they didn’t.
Here’s another time where you’re assuming what someone may think.
There are a thousand reasons why you might have miscarried.
Some of those may have happened at conception.
Did you know that? It could have been a wonky egg, or a wonky sperm, and it happened immediately.
Would you blame Leo in that situation if a test identified that his sperm was to blame? ”
“No, because he had no control over that, if that were the case.”
“Yet you blame yourself for what was most likely nothing you could control.”
“It’s different,” I say defensively, even though I have no concrete evidence to back that up. “It’s in my body. If something fails, it’s on me.”
Whitley covers my hands with hers. “No, Ella. It isn’t.
I know you. I know your heart. You’re one of the kindest and most selfless people in this town.
A miscarriage isn’t something you blame on someone.
Now, if you were abusing alcohol or doing drugs, that would be the exception.
But you’re not that. Yeah, those weeks after Leo left were brutal.
I had to remind you to eat a lot. But you still drank a lot of water.
You made sure to eat fruit, and you certainly slept a lot.
What happened wasn’t your fault. I might not be a scientist, and the closest I can get to a medical degree is what I’ve learned on The Pitt and Grey’s Anatomy, but I know with absolute certainty that it wasn’t your fault. ”
“I don’t agree,” I rasp painfully, tears pouring down my cheeks.
“I can’t make you see it from my perspective,” Whitley says with a sigh.
“But I think it would benefit you to get in with an OB sooner rather than later, and ask them some of these questions. If they don’t give you some peace of mind, then we’ll find you a psychologist. You’ve got a hell of a lot of PTSD from that period in your life.
No matter what happens with Leo, or with this baby, you’ve got a niece and nephew depending on you.
It’s time you get some closure on what happened back then. ”