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Erica
Aaronjumpsoutofhis seat and stalks up the aisle. His face is red under his tan. I wanted Aaron to find out differently. I pause, thinking if I should follow him or not. I need to talk to him before he goes completely off the rails.
I pick up the front of my dress and quickly walk up the aisle, trying not to draw attention. I don’t think that is working very well. Every eye near the walkway is now on me as I follow Aaron. I get out to the lobby and risk calling out to him. He either doesn’t hear me or, probably the case, doesn’t want to speak to me because he keeps walking. I finally catch up to him outside, and when he turns around, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. He has tears in his eyes. This is going so wrong.
“Please, let me explain.” I put my hand on his arm, but he jerks it away.
“Explain what? That you're pregnant and have hidden it from me? What the hell, Erica?”
My voice is pleading. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. Please, can we not do this here? I have a lot I want to talk to you about privately.”
Aaron’s anger has taken complete control. “So, it’s true. You're pregnant. When were you going to tell me?Wereyou going to tell me? How could you not tell me? Haven’t I proved to you that you can trust me? That I would do anything for you? Instead, I find out through a series of clues I’m putting together in the middle of what is supposed to be the most important night of my life. I’m missing my premiere. How could you be so selfish?”
I stand there, listening to his rant and feeling like I deserve it. I had good intentions. I was going to tell him tonight after the premiere. I certainly did not expect him to figure it out on his own. Damn, the media and their probing questions.
“Please, Aaron, can we go somewhere and talk about this privately?” I could see we were attracting a small amount of attention, and I did not want this conversation to come out on TMZ like the clinic video.
I can see phones up. Pretty sure they are recording us. Great.
“No, we can’t. We are having this conversation here and now. No more lies, no more omissions. Tell me everything right now.” His voice has risen a couple more octaves, and I’m embarrassed.
“Fine! You want answers; you want an explanation? Well, here it is. I wasn’t hiding anything from you. I didn’t want to take away from your big night, so I planned to tell youafterthe premiere. I’m two months along, according to my doctor. Happy?” I’m breathing hard out of anger and frustration.
We stare at each other, the minutes ticking by. I look away and notice a much larger crowd has gathered, some of which have microphones and paparazzi cameras. Damn it.
I am looking for a much more secluded area to move our conversion to. There doesn’t seem to be one, and Aaron doesn’t seem to care that we have attracted more attention. I see vans with big antennae pulling up.
Aaron breaks the silence first. “Is it mine?”
“Of course, it’s yours. I had the doctor confirm it. We conceived in Orlando.” I have dropped the volume of my voice, hoping it will convince Aaron to do the same.
I’m unsure if I’m more hurt or angry that he had to ask if it is his. In high school, I used to daydream about our future together if he opened his eyes and saw me the way I saw him. In the end, we will have cute kids, if I say so myself. I always felt that he would be a good dad one day.
Aaron’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “How? I thought you were on birth control.”
His voice cracks. He runs his hand through his carefully coiffed hair. I prefer the tousled look anyway.
“There is always a chance that it won’t work. It’s only like ninety-five percent effective or something like that. I guess I’m in that small percentage of people. It didn’t work for this time, Aaron. Maybe if you had worn a condom, we wouldn’t have this conversation in front of everyone.” I can’t help pushing back. I don’t like him insinuating that this is somehow all my responsibility.
“I just don’t understand why you would keep this from me. How long have you known?”
I avert my eyes because I don’t want to tell him I’ve known for a couple of weeks.
He looks at me intently, waiting for an answer, and then I see recognition on his face.
“The clinic visit. That wasn’t food poisoning, was it? Damn it, Erica. Why didn’t you just tell me the truth then? Why did you lie to me? Make me lie to everyone again?”
The hurt in his eyes speaks volumes. After all, he's done for me, lying to his family about us being engaged, I wish I could take that hurt away.
I whisper, “I was scared.”
“Of what?”
His voice is raspy with emotion. He is calming down a little. Maybe the microphones won’t pick up our whole conversation, and we can be spared the humiliation.
“Well, we are faking an engagement. I didn’t know what you would think or how you would react to us not faking a pregnancy. I’m barely able to figure things out myself. How could I tell you when you had so much going on? This baby impacts so many aspects of both our lives and careers. Telling you makes it real. Maybe, part of me wasn’t ready for real. Maybe I didn’t want to hear you say you didn’t want the baby.” I choke on a sob that escapes. I'm trying to do this without crying.
“You should know me better than that, Erica. I’ve told you I would do anything for you. That includes helping with a baby I had a part in making. Did you not think your pregnancy is more important to me than any movie premiere?”
