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“It’s alright. I understand.” Dr. Williamson crossed out something on one of his forms. “So, Aiden won’t be involved as a parent?”
“I really don’t know,” I said, trying my hardest to remain polite.
I knew that the question was innocent. But how could I have known whether Aiden would be involved in raising the child? Aiden was a sweet enough guy, but he was only the UPS man I had met a few weeks before. Aiden didn’t even know that I was going to be a mother.
“I presume Aiden doesn’t know that you’re pregnant?”
“I only found out just now myself.” I gritted my teeth and shook my head.
“Ah, yeah, ok.” Dr. Williamson looked at the appointment details on his screen.
“Can we talk about something other than Aiden, please?”
“So, the father is not going to be involved—”
“Please, can we talk about something else, please? I don’t know yet whether he’s going to be involved, ok? I’m going to call him and ask. You don’t have to ask me a million questions about it, because I don’t know yet. I haven’t told Aiden yet. Is that ok?” I heard my own voice growing louder at the end of that statement. I hadn’t entirely meant to do that. But those were precisely the questions I didn’t want to think about until I’d at least discussed the pregnancy with Aiden.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” Dr. Williamson’s mouth tightened. “We just like to get these things — anyway, I’m sorry. You already have the schedule of your follow-up appointments here for your pregnancy. The next appointment is at noon this coming Friday. Is there anything else I can do for you, Eleanor?”
“Nothing else. Thanks.”
The doctor couldn’t call Aiden for me. That was the foremost thing that had to be done. Dr. Williamson also couldn’t ask Aiden to be a father for me. It was all my task.
I walked out of the doctor’s office into downtown New York’s chilly morning air. I could’ve turned left and gone to the library, but I was in no mood for it. I still wanted to talk to Aiden. I turned right for Starbucks. There was one down the street, slightly downhill. It would be a good place for me to make an important phone call. Or at least it would have to be a good place for me to make an important phone call. I hoped so, anyway.
Grande mint tea. That would warm me from the chill outside and the chill of trepidation I felt inside me. At least it would warm and comfort my throat before I’d have to talk with Aiden. I sank into the soft fabric chair, took out my phone, and breathed deeply. Aiden’s number was already saved in my phone. Only as Aiden, no last name. It took one click to dial.
Aiden answered through wind noise and traffic sounds. “Yeah, hello. I’m driving for work right now.”
“Aiden, have you ever thought about having children?”
“Can we have this conversation another time? I’m driving now.” UPS truck engine growl. Honking horns.
“But… do you want to be a father?”
“Haha. Comedian. No really, can we talk later, Eleanor?” A close-up honking horn. Aiden sighing.
“Aiden, really. I need to know —”
“Eleanor, are you high or something?” Aiden was almost yelling. “What the hell? I don’t put my dick in crazy. Can you call me back later when I’m not driving, and you’re not tripping?” I could picture Aiden shaking his head while driving his UPS truck.
I hung up. That was that. No reason to start my pregnancy with an argument with the person who I presumed was now my ex-lover. That one night together had qualified to make Aiden my ex-lover, didn’t it? If not, I didn’t even have an ex-lover to blame the pregnancy on. It would just have to be “some guy,” some guy who’d fucked me hard over the sofa on the library’s third floor and sent me on my way to single motherhood.
I didn’t want to deal with it. I didn’t want to deal with anything. My destination that morning was my bed. Once I lay on my back, under the sheets and soft down comforter, I didn’t want to go anywhere else.
I had no place to go anyway. Work wasn’t until Monday. None of my friends or relatives — not even nosy Claire at the library — knew that I had slept with Aiden. Their reaction if I’d told them about being pregnant would probably have been the same as Aiden’s. I’d tell them. Sometime. Just not right at that moment, when all I wanted to do was sleep — for the rest of the day, at least, and the rest of the weekend, probably.
Every minor rumble in my tummy made me think of a kicking baby. Of course, my baby was only a few weeks old, an embryo, not even a fetus. It would be months before the baby could kick. But my mind was focused on it. And the sadness and loneliness I felt. I knew those feelings were triggered by the conversation with Aiden and the pregnancy hormones.
