Yet here I am.
The coop is equipped with nesting boxes crafted from polished cedar, and they’ll be lined with straw and have individual privacy curtains, because obviously, they need to becozy and feel safe when they lay their eggs. There’s an expansive, enclosed run, which will be completed with a dust bath and a mini herb garden I plan to put together for them to peck at, and I even made the heat lamp hang from the ceiling on the inside chandelier-style.
I admit, Imayhave gone a little overboard, but it’s been fun planning and putting it all together. It also helps clear my mind, which is always a plus.
I finish sanding one of the branches to be made into a perch that will line the wall of the coop when the sound of the tall, wide shop door pulls me out of the zone. Not expecting anyone to be out here, I whip my head around, confusion furrowing my brow because in walks Charley. Glancing at the clock above the table to make sure it’s really as late as I think it is, I turn around, fully facing her.
Charley’s wearing an expression I can’t quite make out, and given the fact that we haven’t really spoken in weeks, my mind immediately wants to jump to the worst. “Hi…is everything okay? What are you doing here?” I ask hesitantly.
“We need to talk,” she blurts out, her hands dangling at her sides, clenching and unclenching into fists.
I wipe the sawdust off my hands by rubbing my palms over the tops of my thighs before I rest my back against the table. “Okay, about what?”
“About me being pregnant.” The words come out in a hurry, and she folds her arms over her chest and juts her chin out, almost like she expects me to explode or something.
“Wh— Sorry…” Clearing my throat, I try again. “What?”
She huffs out a breath, then looks away before bringing her gaze back to mine. “I’m pregnant, Graham,” she says again, her voice cracking. Emotion wells up in her eyes, and that’s when I notice how red and puffy her face is, like maybe she’s been crying. “It’s yours,” she adds.
Heart thundering, I move before my brain has a chance to catch up. Long strides carry me across the shop until I’m standing in front of her. Panic thrashes through me, but something tells me that’s not what Charley needs right now, so I don’t let it show.
“Can I…” I swallow. “Is it okay if I hug you?”
Her bottom lip quivers, hitting me right in the chest, as she nods. My arms wrap around her, and as soon as they do, a sob wracks through her body and she buries her face in my chest, clutching at the front of my shirt with her hands.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, running my hand over her back gently, as it feels like my insides are frozen. “It’s going to be okay.”
She’s pregnant?
We’re going to have a baby?
How the hell is that going to work?
And what does this mean for us?
I have so many questions, but I don’t vocalize any of them. Charley needs my strength so she can fall apart. That much is clear.
“It’ll be okay, Sunny,” I repeat. Then she says something, but it’s too muffled, and I can’t make it out. “What was that?”
Pulling back, her face blotchy and eyes red-rimmed and tear soaked, she says, “I’m getting an abortion.” My lips part, then press together. I’m not even sure what I plan on saying, but before I have the chance, she continues, stern and certain this time. “It’s my body; therefore, it’s my choice. So, please, I need you to get on board with this, because my mind is made up. I’ve thought about it for the last few days and?—”
“Days?” I blurt out, cutting her off.An abortion?“How long have you known?”
Looking down at her hands, Charley mumbles, “Since Thursday.”
“Sunny, it’s Monday,” I say, cupping her face with my hands, which causes her to look up at me. “You’ve known about this and have been carrying the weight of it by yourself for four days. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve been there for you.”
Another tear spills over, falling down her cheek and landing on my hand. “That’s exactly what Georgia said,” she groans.My sister knew about this before I did… Of course.“I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do yet, and I didn’t want to be talked into anything regarding my own body.”
The defiance and ferocity surrounding her words would normally make me laugh, but I’m too busy grappling at what’s going on. “Okay, I understand that, and I would never, ever try to get you to do something you didn’t want to do, but Charley, you shouldn’t have to go through any of this alone.” Pausing, I add, “I mean, not totally alone, since you told my sister, but you know what I mean. I could’ve been there for you too.”
Charley huffs out a small breath through her nose. “I only told her last night because I was freaking out.”
There’s more I want to say, but none of it is productive, and she’s right, itisher choice. No matter how much I want to argue the decision and try to get her to change her mind, I know I can’t. So, instead, I swallow my opinions. “Whatever you want to do, you have my support one hundred percent,” I tell her, ignoring the ever-growing ache in the back of my throat.
She’s about to say something, but gets cut off as the sound of Ellie Mae crying comes through the monitor behind me. Turning around, I grab it, finding my daughter standing in her crib, the cries getting louder.
Glancing up and gesturing toward the monitor, I say, “I have to run in and check on her.”
