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“What?”
“You aren’t married, are you, Cherry?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Well, it seems you’re expecting a little one.”
“I…I’m what?”
“You’re pregnant.” He flips through some papers and shows me a little tick mark next to a pregnancy test square as if that just explains everything. “I’d like to get you an appointment with Dr. Carr—she’s an OB/GYN up in Grantsville. She can give you a lot more information, but I expect you’re eight to ten weeks along.”
“That’s…that’s not possible. I can’t be…” My words catch in my throat as I realize I haven’t had a period since I moved back to Accident.
He raises an eyebrow at me.
“I mean…” I bite my quivering lip and look at the wall. I focus on a framed poster of the anatomy of the ear. Finally, I whisper my response. “It was only once.”
“That’s all it takes.”
*****
I actually lie to my boss, telling her I have the flu. I stay home the entire next week in an almost constant state of panic. I binge watch television without actually paying attention to a single episode of whatever the show is. I can’t keep food down, and every time I look at myself in the mirror, I start to cry.
Pregnancy hormones are clearly a real thing.
Why didn’t I tell him to use a condom? What was I thinking, just going ahead and having unprotected sex with a man I really didn’t know well at all? What the hell am I going to do now?
“I’m overwhelmed, Vee,” I say through tears. It’s early in the morning, and I didn’t sleep well. “I can’t handle all of this. I wish I had never gone to Cascade Falls. I should have just stayed here in blissful ignorance.”
You were so lonely.
The thought is my own, but I hear the words in Aunt Ginny’s voice.
“Aunt Sofia.” I shake my head. “I can’t think of her by any name other than Ginny.” I look up at Vee’s curled up leaves. She needs water, but I can’t quite bring myself to stand up, go to the sink, and get her some. “I know she kept everything from me. Maybe she always planned on keeping me in the dark for my own good. Maybe she did it to protect me from all of this.”
Too late now.
“What am I going to do, Vee?” I’ve asked the same question a hundred times. “Do I keep this baby? Do I even tell Nate about it? I’d have to call him. Nora said I should listen to him, and maybe I should. If he’s really getting help…maybe he could change. Do I want him to change? Do I want him at all?” Tears roll freely down my cheeks. “How the hell am I going to raise a child by myself?”
Against my better judgment, I pick up my phone and look at the text messages for the first time in weeks. I see Nora’s message from right before she called the antique shop, but the predominant view on my phone is the eighty-seven unread messages from Nate. The most recent is from this morning.
I take a deep breath and start to read, starting with today’s message and going back to yesterday’s.
Nate O: I know you won’t respond to this, and I accept that. I’m not even sure if you’re getting these messages or reading them or what. I wish I could talk to you. I miss you terribly, Cherice. I know that’s my own fault. It’s all my fault. I just want to make it right again.
Nate O: I think you’d like my therapist. She keeps telling me I’m a jackass. Well, she doesn’t use that word, but the sentiment is there. I know I should stop texting you, but it’s the only connection I have left. I guess I need more work.
Therapist. I guess Nora was right as far as Nate’s trying to get some help. I try to picture him talking about his feelings while lying on a couch, but the image doesn’t look right. I scroll up, running through a couple weeks’ worth of messages so I can read them in order. For several days, the messages are of the same type.
Nate O: I wish you were here.
Nate O: I want to see you so bad
Nate O: I don’t know how to do this
Nate O: I miss you
Nate O: I miss you
