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Chapter 8 - Beauty
Ruby
I looked at the tests lined up on the bathroom counter. After the first test produced a positive result, I bought three more. They lay side-by-side, four tiny crosses all in a row.
I sat down hard on the closed toilet.
Pregnant.
Huh.
I didn’t think that would ever happen for me. I didn’t feel like I could properly look after myself, never mind a child.
I gathered the tests, tucked them under the sink, and retreated to my bedroom. I left the lights off but opened the curtains to reveal the night sky. I never slept with the window covered. I couldn’t stand feeling boxed in.
I braced my back against the headboard and wrapped my arms around my drawn-up legs. I rested my cheek on my bent knees and stared unseeing out the window. My future, up until that point, had looked blurry at best, but it was now a gaping, swirling maw of unknown.
Despite my best efforts to purge my heart of hope for a future with Vander, a sliver had remained, a tiny sliver that hung on even in the abyss of his silence. Now, the reality that I couldn’t go to Vander pregnant, shredded it as well. Having another man’s baby confirmed what I already knew to be true, but the confirmation still gutted me.
Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I tried to beat them back, but the erasure of his presence in my future sliced me sharply. I hugged my legs tighter and rocked myself back and forth as the tears rolled down my cheeks. I opened my mouth to pull in a steadying breath and quell the sob that gripped my throat. My saliva ran thick, and my nose ran thin, mixing with my tears. I needed a drink of water and a tissue but could not motivate myself to get either.
I turned my eyes from the window to rest my forehead on the unyielding bones of my knees, and I rocked myself through the shock of the loss.
I wished for a moment that the child inside me belonged to Vander, but I brushed it away before it became a solid thought. I got my period a week after our weekend together, which was a surprise because it was early. Historically, I missed my period when I was distraught, sometimes for months, which is why I didn’t clue in for several weeks after being with Drew, that I might be pregnant. So, no. This wasn’t Vander’s child and wanting this child to be anyone other than he was, signified outright rejection. I’d never do that to my child.
I plodded into the bathroom, blew my nose, and washed my face. The mirror reflected the wreckage of the past hour. The sight drew me closer to the mirror where I promised my reflection, again, that these tears would be the last I shed over Vitalis.
I blew out a breath, my thoughts skipping like flat rocks over a glass sea.
Babies were so damn fragile. In a few months, my tummy would be round and distended like my sister’s.
I smiled at that. We’d always hoped to have children at the same time.
There were going to be so many doctor’s appointments, so many decisions to make.
Did I really want to bring a baby into the world? I could barely navigate it myself.
Would it be healthy? Oh, God, would it survive the pregnancy? The birth?
Shitfuckdamn!
I plodded back into my bedroom, changed into my sleepshirt, and settled back against the headboard. I looked out the window and stared down the darkness of the unknown.
The birth was the least of my worries. It, no, not it, he, would be outside of me in a few short months. He’d be exposed to all the elements, risking vaccinations, ear infections, the flu, riding around in cars and buses and going to school to be bullied and teased. What if the teacher didn’t like him?
What if his father didn’t want him? I hadn’t seen Drew in the three months since the wedding.
I looked inwards. It didn’t matter. I wanted him. I’d want him enough for both of us if need be.
I dipped my chin to look at my still flat tummy and drew in a shuddering breath. “Okay, big guy. It’s you and me, now. And maybe Drew.” I conceded, allowing for the possibility that the best man might want to be involved.
I barely remembered our night together. I remembered him as sweet and attentive. I remember he held me afterwards. I remember waking up for round two, in which we stupidly got carried away and didn’t use a condom.
He texted me a couple of days later asking me out.
I groaned at the remembrance of turning him down. Despite my promise to move on, I still held out hope for Vander.
I pressed my forefinger into the divot bowing my lip. In retrospect, this would have been a lot easier if we’d at least had a first date.
