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Having been poor my whole life, I didn’t want a child to experience poverty, either. It matters to me to be able to provide well for a family.
That’s also not a concern anymore.
Before I can continue my list of objections, Mikhail comes to me. My mind continues to bring up every possibility and fear I can muster. I’ve never seen him look like this before, his eyes brightand excited. “Alright, so you need to use the bathroom, then we dip this stick…”
I pause, staring at him. I can’t air my concerns. I’m here for complicated reasons, and if I decide not to have a baby…what happens next?
“Let me help you up,” he says, lifting me in his arms.
“Mikhail, please,” I say with a little laugh. “I can walk. I’m not injured or anything.”
He scowls at me. “Are you talking back to me?”
“Well, no,” I say with a pout.
“Are you pouting?”
“Doesn’t a woman who’s maybe pregnant have a right to pout?”
I wouldn’t have chosen this, not on a bet.
“Then why do you look that way?”
“Nausea,” I respond. “Doubts.”
“Ahh. There’s nothing to fear, Aria. No matter what, I will take care of you.”
Easy for him to say. He isn’t the one potentially carryinghuman life in his womb.
He stands reluctantly outside the door when I pee on the strip, then practically bangs it down when he hears me flush.
“Your impatience won’t make the test result come any sooner,” I tell him, but he ignores me, of course, and just walks into the bathroom and stares at it, as if willing it to reveal two pink lines. The timer on his phone ticks.
I’m a little scared of his reaction if it’s positive. Will he wrap me in bubble wrap or confine me to bed?
I’m a little scared of his reaction if it’s negative.
Will that mean I’ve failed?
One minute passes. I feel nauseous again at the second minute, and by the time the third minute’s over, I’m swallowing hard to keep the remaining contents of my belly down.
I don’t even know how to tell him I’m not sure what I want the test to say.
Pregnant? With the mafia lord’s child? Destined to be raised wealthy, yes, and loved, absolutely, but — into a world of crime and violence?
Or…not pregnant.
Mikhail’s fallen expression tells me my answer before I even look. “I’m not, am I?” I ask in a little voice.
He shakes his head.
I expect nothing but relief but I’m surprised to find I’m…also disappointed. I sigh. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Am I?
I don’t ever remember being so conflicted over anything in my life.
Am I sorry that he’s disappointed?
Wordlessly, we clean the bathroom. I toss the negative test into the trash bin and wash my hands. I try to conjure up a feeling of relief, but it’s…mixed.
