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I close my eyes and sigh.You might not think so when I tell you what I’ve just done.
28
Makenna
I’m pregnant.
I have probably said those two words in my mind fifty times in the last five minutes, and every time, I mentally talk myself out of saying them out loud.
The bathroom door feels like prison bars. I’m trapped on this side. Frozen. Staring at two pink lines. I’m going to be sick.
How did this happen?
Aside from the obvious, I mean.
I’m on the shot. I have been since I was seventeen years old. It’s never failed. I’ve never even had a scare. Which is why when I was late, I blew it off as stress-related. Then came the nausea and fatigue.
I sit here, on the bathroom floor, with my back against the tub, doing mental math. It had to have happened before he went to Miami.
I have to tell Callisto.
I can’t tell Callisto.
Talk about timing. I just passed my NCLEX and applied for my RN license. I want to work in a hospital. I want to go back to school for my MSN. Callisto only recently opened up and let me in. Everything—my whole life—is still in the floating stage. The dust hasn’t settled yet.
Not to mention, his close family friend was shot and his father is in the hospital after a second massive heart attack.
I don’t want him to regret anything or blame himself. I don’t want him to feel like our baby is just another person he feels obligated to protect, and right now, he is in full-on protective mode. I sense it every time he lets out a breath.
I get up off the floor, wrap the test in toilet paper and stick it in my purse.
I’ll tell him.
As soon as I know this is real. False positives happen all the time with these tests.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway. The truth is, I know this is real. I feel it. And I need to process it myself before I say it out loud.
* * *
Callisto is at the hospital and I’m skipping work, hiding from the truth at a park close to his loft. Bright green shrubs circle an incredible fountain in the center of the grassy opening. A black iron park bench welcomes me as I take a seat and smile at the blanket of color around me. The earth is a canvas, and flowers of all shades and sizes create the perfect picture of tranquility.
There’s a playground nearby. The sounds of laughter and tiny, high-pitched voices float through the air. Mothers hold up their cell phones, snapping pictures and encouraging their little ones to explore the slide one more time or give the monkey bars another try. I’ve never thought about what kind of mother I would be or how I would feel if I ever got pregnant. Until now. Now, that I know it’s a reality, I can’t seem to think of anything else.
I imagine Callisto as a father, stern but loving, and maybe a little overprotective—just like Carlos. I look across at the swings gliding through the air, and I can almost see his breathtaking smile as he stands behind an excited, tiny human, the swing swaying back and forth in the wind. His—or her—laughter is almost audible, bringing light into the void.
If we have a son, will we do like Callisto’s mother did and choose an Italian name, something that defines his roots? From what I’ve seen, his heritage is a big part of who he is. I want him to share that with our children. I want him to share it with me. And if we have a daughter, God bless any boy that ever wants to date her.
The reflection of the sunlight bounces off the metallic gold doors of a cathedral across the street. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to church. When I was younger, my grandmother never let us miss a Sunday. Since I’ve gotten older, I can’t remember the last time I worshiped. Prayer isn’t a big part of my daily routine, but the thought of finding peace already brings me comfort.
I walk across the street, thankful to find the doors unlocked. Inside the cathedral, soft music echoes off the high ceilings. Peaceful tranquility weaves together with regal exaltation, clothing me in comfort and awe as I take it all in. Etched within the limestone floor is an in-ground labyrinth. Strong black lines create a winding path within a circle, ending at the center. I heard walking a labyrinth is supposed to bring healing and peace, give the soul a concrete place to wander. I skip the maze because my soul already found its resting place. I walk past the intricate maze and down a row of wooden pews. Massive archways and twenty-five-foot stained-glass windows loom high over my head, looking down, watching over. It is the physical definition of the word holy.
I drop a donation in the collection box and take a seat in the front pew. Parishioners trickle in and out, their footsteps echoing off the high ceilings. Everyone keeps their voices quiet in reverence of the majestic beauty before them. Some take pictures. Some sit—just like I am—and pray. Some stare in awe at the magnificence of it all. I pray for peace in my soul... and in Callisto’s. I pray for Carlos and Franco, for their safety and healing. And I pray for the new life growing inside me, that somehow I’ll be worthy of being a mother. That I won’t make the same mistakes my mom did.
I look up at the cross hanging behind the altar and peace overcomes me. My heart opens wide. I can breathe. I didn’t think it was possible to love anyone else. I thought Callisto had taken up all the space inside my soul.
Until now.
I hold a hand over my lower stomach.Until you.
