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I stumbled back from shock. “N-no. I don’t need to. Don’t say that.”
“Did you use protection with them?” she asked. Her usually merry brown eyes turned serious.
Even though she was the last person I usually got embarrassed in front of, my cheeks turned bright red.
“What do you mean?” I stammered. “Why would you even think that?”
Ethel smiled gently at me.
“Sweetheart, I’ve known you for almost twenty years now. I know when my daughter’s in love, and I know when she’s had her heart broken. It’s only natural, a pretty girl like you with three dominating rock stars. Now, have you thougth about taking a pregnancy test?”
I gasped. Ethel knew? Or she’d guessed? Oh god, this was another layer to the nightmare. I thought my mom believed that I was a virgin.
But give the fifty-year old woman credit, because she’s more perceptive than she appears. So I nodded, swallowing heavily with pain.
“Okay, I will,” was my whisper, barely audible over the scrambling eggs. “Will do.”
“Good,” Ethel said, turning back to the pancake mix. “Do that first, and then we’ll discuss next steps, sweetheart.”
But even as I moved about the kitchen helping my mom, my thoughts wouldn’t stop. I cursed myself internally, feeling so stupid. Helena had sent me birth control, but remembering to take it was not my forte. I would often look at the sleeve of pills and realize that I missed two or three days by accident, and hurriedly rush to pop one in my mouth. But was that enough? It didn’t seem so.
Reading my mind, Ethel spoke gently again.
“It’s okay, my Kate. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together. You know your father and I will always be here for you.”
She was half-right. Dad would have a heart attack and demand the name of the boy who’d knocked me up. No way could I ever tell him it was three grown men who were responsible. The details were too sordid and obscene, Bernard would pass out from the truth.
But my mom was understanding.
“No matter what, Kate,” Ethel reassured me again with a long hug. “We’re here for you.”
So a day later, I bought the pregnancy test.
My hand trembled as I looked down at the white stick again. The pink lines were as clear as they were on the box, telling a tale that brooked no doubt.
I was pregnant. Just as suspected.
Disbelieving, I stumbled back. The cold sink dug into my back and stopped me from crashing to the bathroom floor. Quick breaths rushed through my lungs, one after the other—faster and faster.
Oh god. I was going to pass out, but that wouldn’t be good for the baby.
So my fingers dug into the hard edge of the sink, knuckels turning white with determination. I forced myself to calm down. If I passed out, I would hit my head. I could hurt the baby. This wasn’t just about me anymore. There was more to the world and to my very existence.
I was truly pregnant. I was going to be somebody’s mother, in a matter of months in fact.
Oh god! What next?
But all my plans were in disarray now. Because after Hard Fought left, I got this studio and signed up for a few creative writing classes at the community college. There was a strict budget to make my money last as long as it could. But with a baby, the cash would be gone in a snap.
“Get a job to keep that money trickling in,” my dad had recommended.
I wished I’d listened to him when he said that. Because who would hire a pregnant woman now? One who lumbered this way and that, her enormous belly like a giant beach ball?
The direction of my life suddenly changed forever. But a fluttering in my stomach distracted me from my thoughts and I touched my belly.
My belly. My baby.
My blue-eyed, dark haired baby. He or she would look like Hudson, Gunner and Brody. Their genes were strong and anyone looking at my child would see their reflection. I would know it, too. They would forever be stamped in my memories.
And suddenly, the tide of my thoughts turned. Amid the panic and shock, suddenly happiness began to trickle in. A small rivulet at first, but slowly gaining steam and becoming a wonderful gush.
Because I wanted this child. I wanted this reminder of my love for the three men, the months that had been the best time in my life. Maybe it was unrealistic, silly, and nothing more than the hallucinations of a pregnant woman. But suddenly, a feeling of well-being flooded my soul, surrounding my heart with a balm.
Because now I’d have a piece of Hard Fought for the rest of my life. Their child. A precious reminder. A beautiful baby girl or boy, smiling back at me with dimpled cheeks and clear blue eyes.
