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After the breakup six years ago, I tried to clear him from my mind. Now, here I was, pregnant by him with an undefined relationship. If my mother were alive, she’d shame me for being an unwed and with child. But my mother’s opinion of me had always been negative.
I think that’s why I fell for Jack so easily. He loves everything about me. I can do no wrong. And it’s not like I haven’t thought of Jack all this time. I often wondered how he was holding up in life. But I had moved on, dating here and there. And so had he, apparently. Martin’s four. I wonder about Martin’s mother. Had Jack loved her as much as he said he loved me?
I’m thinking of all this as I sit on my couch. It’s the day after we’ve had dinner and my mind is dizzy with the unending complications that is our relationship. So many things could have gone right the first time around. If only…
If only he’d been the man he’s at least trying to be now.
He’s taking responsibility for this child. That should be enough for now. I’m overthinking it all again.
At least he’s making an effort. He’s being so much more attentive. So sweet.
I need to stop worrying so much.To distract myself, I pick up my phone to scroll through it. My Instagram feed is filled with heartwarming stories of happy couples.
Will Jack and I ever be a happy couple?I wonder. It’s too stupid of me to even think of that.
“What a fucking mess,” I say aloud and my stomach grumbles, reminding me to eat. Time to feed the baby, I think. My priorities need to change.
I make my way to the kitchen and prep all the ingredients needed for the pasta. My phone rings and I see it’s Jack.
“Hey,” I say, “what’s up?”
“Hey, Martin’s at a sleepover, and I’m wondering if I can come over. I know it’s short notice.”
“It’s fine. I was just about to make some pasta.”
“That’d be nice. I’m starving too.” He pauses. Something’s on his mind. “You know, I was thinking that maybe we could talk over some things.”
“Yeah,” I say, “I was thinking the same thing.”
After I hang up with him, I go back to cooking pasta, now for two. No, mushrooms. He’s allergic. Maybe some alfredo sauce, instead? God, look at me compromising. Just like the old days.
I finish cooking and put the pasta in the oven to keep it warm. I’m not sure what’s taking Jack so long. My stomach grumbles again. Waiting for Jack. How much of my life have I wasted doing just that?
When we were together, he worked long hours after school, then he’d go out drinking with his co-workers. He used to call it “networking.”
His job and his friendships always spilled over into his personal life. I took a backseat to the “Jack Show.” It was always about him and how he needed to work hard to make money. He could play just as hard as he could work, just never with me.
I’m a different person now, I think to myself. I have grown and matured. He’s different, too. He’s a parent. The way he is with Martin warms my heart.
I have to believe he’ll be present in our baby’s life as well. The clock on my oven says I have been waiting over an hour. This is ridiculous. I go to the stove and pull out the pasta, making myself a plate. No reason I have to go hungry because he’s late. I’m starting to feel a little faint anyway.
As I fill my plate, the doorbell rings. Jack’s here. I go to the door and he’s all smiles, barely acknowledging how late he is. I feel faint and my legs begin to shake. A cold rush runs up my body, and I start to sweat. My stomach lurches.
“Sarah, are you okay?” Jack says.
My body crumples to the ground as blackness overtakes me.
I wake up in a cold hospital room. Jennie is sitting beside me in a chair, looking worried.
“She’s awake!” My friend grabs my hand.
On the other side of me, Jack grabs my other hand.
“What happened?” I glance around. I’m hooked up to an IV.
“You fainted,” Jack says, his eyebrows furrowing. His dark hair looks like it’s been raked over.
“The doc says you were dehydrated,” Jennie adds, “You know you have to be careful. That’s how you go into early labor.”
