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Perhaps realizing that you could be, and deciding not to be, is the real answer.
Maybe. Maybe. But in the meantime... In the meantime she worried.
And she really did need to go to a doctor.
She also felt guilty living off what Alex had given her already, but she had been violently ill in the first stages of her pregnancy, and waiting tables had not been an option. Not anymore. So she had ensconced herself in her apartment, and had rarely left, only to get groceries.
She could get delivery, it was true, and right at first she had done that. But...
Eventually, she had realized that she had to get off the couch. Eventually, she realized that she had to venture out. She was having her weekly shopping trip now. Wearing the only pair of black leggings that she could fit herself into, rolled down beneath her stomach, and a white T-shirt.
She had thrown on a white baseball hat and a denim jacket, hands stuffed in her pockets as she strode down the street, eyes on her white tennis shoes, wondering why she had worn them, when she had to worry about the road grime getting on them.
She popped into her favorite bodega and got herself some milk, standing in front of the produce while she waited to see if a craving struck her. None did. She went to the freezer section and found herself putting ice cream in her cart. Then to the fridge where she grabbed cheese. And other than the crackers that she added later, she realized her little handcart was entirely dairy. And she would’ve felt shame if she weren’t so blissfully, purely sorry for herself in the moment.
She suddenly had a strange sensation that she was being watched and looked over her shoulder to see two young girls staring at her. One had their phone slightly held raised like they were texting, but from a strange angle, and she had the strange feeling that they had taken her picture. But why would they do that?
She turned away, and then back again. And in a bid of strange paranoia she could not even quite understand, she put her sunglasses on. Then she got in line and paid for her things as quickly as possible, making her way back to her apartment. She spread her cheese out on the counter and chastised herself. She was being paranoid. And she really needed to get a hold of herself. There was no reason that anyone would know who she was. No reason they would be interested at all in her buying cheese.
Maybe they thought the guy running the counter was hot.
She thought about him. Tall and dark with an easy smile. He was hot, she supposed. She had been burned by Constantine Kamaras, and she did not think she would recover soon from the scalding. It made any other man seem... Tepid.
She was just being paranoid. She repeated that to herself while she made herself a lovely cheese platter.
And she felt a little bit better about herself and her life, given that she had gone out, and now she had made herself a dinner that was actually quite lovely, even if it was a little bit sketchy when it came to nutrition.
She would be all right. She would not become her mother.
Of that she was determined.
This was her mess.
She would not punish a child with it for the rest of their lives.
And right then she determined that she wouldn’t punish herself either.
