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Unprotected sex has consequences.
Dr. Redondo takes pity on me and offers an immediate ultrasound. This way I can see the evidence for myself and be sure.
But I’m sure even before I lie on a table in a dim room and watch blurred images roll across the screen.
“There it is.” The technician points to a shape that resembles a kidney bean.
I almost lose the ability to breathe. “Holy shit.”
I’m not expecting to feel joy and yet I do. Instant and uncompromising.
Having a child was always a desirable but very distant wish. The abrupt ache of longing as I watch the shape wiggle on the screen is staggering.
Out of nowhere, I can see myself as a mother and want it desperately. When I imagine holding a tiny, unique human that’s half me and half Micah I want to weep with joy.
The ultrasound tech notices my reaction and hands me a tissue box. “Do you need a minute alone?”
“No.” I pluck a tissue out in case I need to dab at my eyes. “No, I’m fine.”
Yet I’m still caught in a surreal daze by the time I leave the office. I wander to the parking lot where I sit in my car and urge my brain to catch up with my heart.
I’m pregnant with Micah’s baby.
We were careless and completely aware that we were being careless.
But just because I’m happy about the consequences doesn’t mean he’ll be happy too.
Now that my immediate euphoria is beginning to fade, there’s an acid aftertaste of uneasiness.
Micah is impulsive, unpredictable. Qualities I love about him. Yet right now I’d sacrifice a whole lot to have some idea how he’ll react to the news.
Sucking my lower lip through my teeth, I check the time. He’ll be at the gym right now. Between training for his big fight in a couple of weeks and helping his boss manage the gym, Micah warned that he likely wouldn’t be home before ten tonight.
No, I can’t wait that long.
I need himnow.
I need to feel his arms around me and know that no matter what, we’re in this together.
The traffic is light heading to the east side and as I roll through Micah’s old neighborhood, I’m troubled by the fact that I can’t predict what he’ll say. No matter how hard I try, the script in my head just won’t write itself.
Me: I love you so much. And by the way, I’m pregnant.
Micah: ……
“Shit,” I mutter to my steering wheel.
The sudden bubble of queasiness might be due to my new hormones or from angst. In any case, I dig through my purse with one hand and pop a stick of spearmint gum in my mouth before swinging into the cracked asphalt parking strip in front of the sex shop.
The walking dildo is outside today. His mouth splits in a joyous, creepy smile and he waves as if we’re old friends.
I don’t wave back or look his way again.
Elijah is behind the front desk when I step into Golden Wings. He winks at the sight of me. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Elijah is wonderful when you get to know him, and he’s brimming with fascinating stories of the old school scrappy fighting world. I thought he’d refuse when I invited him over for dinner a couple of weeks ago but he accepted with delight. It’s clear he thinks very highly of Micah and for that he receives all my goodwill.
Any other time I’d be happy to stand around and enjoy a leisurely chat. “Is it all right if I go in?”
