by B. B. Hamel
I face her, leaning closer. I take her right hand between mine. “I love you,” I say, and at that exact moment, she says, “I’m pregnant.”
We stare at each other for a second. “You love me?” she asks.
“You’re pregnant?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Wait, hold on.”
I let go of her hand. “Pregnant?” I ask her softly. “Since when?”
“Over a month ago,” she says. “But wait, you, you, you love me?”
I move back from her, recoiling. “How long have you known?”
“Weeks,” she admits. “I wanted to tell you, but it’s been too hard. I was so afraid you’d hate me and run away and I just didn’t know what to do.”
“You’re pregnant,” I say softly. I stand up, pacing away from her and into the other room. I gather my clothes and get dressed.
“Wait, Gavin.” She comes after me, wrapped in a blanket. “Wait. Let’s talk about this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, that was a mistake. But you don’t need to go.”
“You’re pregnant with my baby,” I say, the words barely piercing through the thick hazy fog that’s settled over my mind. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Of course,” she says. “I’ve just been working toward it.”
I shake my head, buzzing with confusion. As soon as I get my clothes on, I go to the door.
“Wait, Gavin. Please don’t go.”
“I need to think,” I mumble at her. “Just need to clear my head.”
“Gavin, please. This doesn’t have to change anything.”
I stare at her, at the beautiful girl I love so much, and I leave her apartment.
I know I should stay. We should talk about this, figure it out together. She’s been carrying this all alone for all this time and now she doesn’t need to be carrying it on her own anymore.
But I’m too confused and upset that she kept it from me. I feel like an idiot, telling her I love her like that. I’ve never put myself out there before and now it’s all crashing down around me.
I know I should go back. I want to go back. But I can’t. My legs keep moving forward and I hurry away from her apartment.
She doesn’t chase after me. That’s probably for the best.
11
Melody
I feel like my whole life’s been burned to the ground.
It’s the worst of all possible situations. The worst of all possible outcomes.
I tell him I’m pregnant. He tells me he loves me.
But he runs away.
I didn’t even get to explain. And I didn’t get to tell him how I feel.
He just left me there, naked and all alone and feeling so devastated that I don’t know how I’m going to pull myself out of this hole.
The only good thing is I don’t have to go into the hospital the next day. We have a day off, and I spend it in my bed pretending like the world doesn’t exist outside of my apartment.
Around noon, though, my phone rings. I figure it might be Gavin, but instead it’s Tracy.
“Hello?” I say, answering it.
“Hey,” Tracy says. “How are you?”
I hesitate a second. “I’m okay,” I say.
“How, uh, how are you doing?” she asks again, this time with a little gravity behind her voice.
I sigh. Clearly, she knows something’s up. “Look, I know he talked to you.”
She lets out a relieved breath. “Okay, good, because I hate pretending like I don’t know everything. Did you see him yesterday? Was it amazing? How long have you been seeing him? Tell me everything.”
I start crying. I can’t help myself. I’m not the type to just break down in tears but this has been one of the most emotionally taxing moments of my life.
“Oh, oh, honey, no, don’t cry. I’m so sorry. Wait, text me your address. I’m coming over.”
“No,” I say through my tears. “I’m okay.”
“Seriously. I’m coming over. I’m hanging up, text me right now.”
So she hangs up, and against my better judgment, I text her my address.
Which means I’d better get dressed. I throw on some crap clothes, a pair of yoga pants and an old sweatshirt. She shows up maybe fifteen minutes later, frowning at me like I’m some kind of mental patient.
Which yeah, I mean, maybe I am.
“Honey,” she says, coming into my apartment. “Are you okay? What happened?”
I sit down on the couch and she sits with me. “You don’t have to listen to me,” I say, smiling at her. “I mean, I’m okay. Honestly.”
“Look, we’re friends. I don’t let my friends just cry on the phone without at least coming over to check on them, okay?”
For some reason, that makes me feel better. “Okay,” I say.
“Tell me what happened.”
So I take a deep breath and I tell her. I leave out the sex, but I tell her about getting pregnant, about hiding it, about the affair, about him telling me how he feels, about me telling him about the baby, about him leaving. And when I’m done, she’s got this huge frown on her face.
“God damn,” she says. “That’s intense.”
I laugh. I can’t help myself. “It’s really intense, right?”
“Seriously Melody, I don’t know how you’ve been holding up all this time. I mean, pregnant? And it’s his baby? Holy crap.”
“I know,” I say softly, laughter dying down. “It’s insane.”
“But that asshole. I can’t believe he just… ran out like that.”
“I don’t blame him,” I say softly. “I didn’t… he didn’t ask for this.”
“He says he loves you.” She narrows her eyes. “If he meant it, he wouldn’t run out on you, on his responsibility.”
“Don’t be so hard on him.”
“No, screw him. Screw that bastard. I’m livid right now.”
I bite my lip. “Come on, it’s fine.”
She sighs. “You don’t have to defend him.”
“I know. I just… I don’t want you to think he’s worse than he is.”
“He ran out on the pregnant girl he supposedly loves. I think it’s pretty bad.”
I had to admit, she’s right about that. He said he loves me but when shit got real, he just bolted. Of course, that’s what I was afraid of from the start, and I still can’t make myself feel too angry.
But maybe I should be angry. Maybe I should be livid. I deserve more than this, better than this. He says he loves me, but he’s not showing it at all.
“Yeah, he’s an asshole,” I say after a beat. “You’re right.”
She grins. “See? That’s the spirit.” She watches me carefully for a second. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m going to keep the baby, that’s all I’m sure of.”
She nods. “Good for you.”
“I just wish…”
“Gavin weren’t such an asshole?”
“I guess.” I sigh and smile a little.
Tracy puts her hand on my knee. “Look, I’ll try and help you as much as I can, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. “Thanks. You don’t have to do that but saying it is really nice.”
She laughs lightly. “Oh, hell, I’ll help you raise it. How hard can a baby be?”
I grin at her. “Looks easy on TV.”
“Right? TV is always accurate to reality.”
“That’s how I learned everything I know about being a doctor.
That gets another laugh from her. “Look, this sucks. I get it. But let’s go somewhere and… I don’t know. Get your mind off things.”
I sigh. “I’m not really in the mood to go out.”
“I know you aren’t, but do you really want to just sit in here and feel like shit?”
“No,” I say.
“Let’s go get something to eat.”
I chew my lip for a second, frowning. I know she’s right. I should go out and get my mind off Gavin, at least
for a little while. This whole thing is so big and so insane that I can barely wrap my head around it, let alone deal with all the feelings ripping through my body right now.
I just don’t want to face the world. For some reason I feel like people can look at me and just know how pathetic I am. Oh, look, she’s pregnant with her teacher doctor’s baby and he doesn’t want anything to do with her, how sad and how pathetic.
I know that’s not really happening, I just can’t help myself.
Finally though, I let her talk me into it. I head into my room, put on some decent clothes, and we head out together.
She takes me to a diner nearby that I’d never seen before. It’s tucked into one of Philly’s many side alleys, a tiny little place with looks like it’s been open since the city was founded. We sit at the counter and order pancakes, slathering them with syrup. The counter’s slightly sticky and the corners are peeling, the fake leather stool tops are ripped and patched with duct tape, the paintings on the walls are all slightly discolored from years of grease floating through the air, and everyone looks a little bored sitting among the half-filled salt shakers.
But it’s perfect. I don’t know why, but it really is. As soon as I take a bite of the golden fluffy pancakes, shockingly good for a place like this, I forget about Gavin.
We talk about nothing really. We talk about the hospital, about Michael and how Tracy has a big fat crush on him, and we talk about TV shows we’re watching. We don’t mention Gavin’s name and even though he keeps popping up in the back of my head, I don’t mention him at all.
For a little bit I feel good. I can pretend like nothing’s wrong and I’m not a pathetic pregnant girl trying not to wallow in her own self-pity. I can act like just another person.
“Can I ask you something?” I say to her as we split up the bill.
“Sure,” she says.
“How come you’re being so nice?”
She laughs a little bit. “Weird question.”
“I know, but, like, you don’t owe me any of this. We haven’t known each other that long.”
Tracy purses her lips for a second in thought. “I don’t really know,” she admits finally. “I guess it’s because we see all these women in the hospital and so many of them are alone, having babies with nobody to help them, or going through something like chemo or whatever, and I just thought… shit, you don’t have to be alone. At least I can help that.”
I smile at her and bite back tears. I can’t get all blubbery on her.
But I know exactly what she’s saying. I’ve seen those women too, alone and sick but still trying to be strong. There are plenty of women with big families and lots of children and husbands and all that, but there are more with nothing, especially the younger ones. We can’t help all of them because we have to help all of them, if that makes sense. We can’t sit by any one of their bedsides for too long or else we’d be neglecting someone else.
So I get it. She wants to help people, and I need help. I get that.
We pay and leave together. We walk slowly back to my apartment and although I don’t feel good, I do feel a little bit better.
“What are you going to do?” she asks me as we stand on the stoop outside my place.
“I have no clue,” I admit. “I don’t know what I’ll say to him on Monday.”
“Well, you have another day to think about it. And I’m just a phone call away.”
“Thanks,” I say and give her a hug. She doesn’t let go right away and that feels good.
“Call me later,” she says and waves as she walks off.
I watch her go, a little smile on my lips, before pushing through the first door of my building. I head inside and down the hall until I get to my apartment, and I stop to stare at the door, my eyes a little wide with surprise.
There’s a note taped over the number. I recognize the handwriting.
Melody, I’m sorry about the way I reacted. I was stupid and it just came as a shock. Please, I want to see you. Come to the hospital tomorrow. I’ll be in the call room on third at ten.
I understand if you don’t show.
But I meant what I said.
Love, Gavin.
I stare at the note for a full minute without touching it. It’s written on lined notebook paper and I can imagine Gavin hastily tearing it out and scribbling it.
I don’t know why he didn’t call or why he didn’t text. He could easily do either of those things and get me right away. Instead, he chose to do this.
I tug it down and hold it in my hands. I read those last lines over again. I meant what I said. Love, Gavin.
I bite my lip. I push back all the emotions threatening to overwhelm me in this moment. Most of all, though, I refuse to let myself feel hope.
I open the door and step inside, shutting it behind me. I don’t know why he wants me to go to the hospital or why he’s not just waiting for me here. I don’t understand why he didn’t call and why he left a note. But he came here and he wrote those words.
I meant what I said. Love, Gavin.
I read it over again and I think back to what Tracy said. Dumping the baby thing on him like that just as he was opening up to me was probably really difficult and obviously he handled it poorly. But maybe he’s trying to do the right thing, maybe he wants more.
I shake my head and clench my jaw. No, I can’t let myself hope. I just can’t.
I fold the note and tuck it behind a stack of books and force myself not to think about it. I force myself not to feel a thrill in my chest and stomach every time I think about those words.
I meant what I said.
Love, Gavin.
I have to be strong. No matter what, I have to be strong. Because I’m not being strong just for myself anymore.
I’m being strong for my baby and I’ll do whatever’s right, no matter the cost.
I let out a long breath like I’ve been holding it for hours. I feel a tension rise from my shoulders as I lean back against my old worn couch.
I’ll do whatever’s right for my baby, no matter the cost.
It’s a hard thought but it’s comforting.
I know with totally certainty where I stand. I can face anything now.
12
Gavin
I wait nervously outside the call room, pacing slightly. A few other doctors and staff give me strange looks but I just ignore them.
I hate myself a little bit for the way I reacted to Melody. As soon as I left her apartment I knew I made a mistake, but I needed to think. I walked around the city for hours, looking back at my life, thinking about where I want to be, and I came to a decision.
It wasn’t a hard decision once I chose. It was actually the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
And so I planned. I wrote her the note. I didn’t want to see her, not until I had everything in place. I want this to be special.
She fucking deserves it.
I check my watch again and again. Nine fifty rolls past and soon it’s ten on the nose. I’m so nervous I can feel myself sweating. I haven’t been this nervous since my first week of my internship. I mean, shit, I’m a doctor in a major hospital. I deal with life and death on a daily basis and I rarely break a sweat.
This, though, this is making me fucking sweat. This is driving me insane.
I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t show up. I guess I’ll find her at home and tell her everything she needs to hear, but I hope she comes. I want her to be in this place when I say what I have to say. I want her to feel what I really feel and I guess this is where it all began.
Ten ticks past. Five after, ten after. It’s not until quarter past, and I’m starting to give in to utter and total despair, when I see her turn the corner and come walking toward me.
My heart fucking leaps. I could almost shout for joy but I keep it under control.
She’s not smiling but she doesn’t look angry. She looks neutral, like she’s just coming to have a chat with her teacher.
Nobody els
e is around. I chose this spot for a reason. It’s not a highly trafficked area so I figure we’ll have some privacy. That doesn’t mean nobody comes through, but it’s more likely we’ll steal a few moments of silence.
She stops a few feet away from me. She looks beautiful in simple jeans and a loose top, buttoned down and nearly sheer. Her hair is down and her eyes look so startlingly beautiful that I almost have the urge to kiss her.
But I resist.
“I’m glad you came,” I say.
“I almost didn’t.”
“I know. I deserve that.”
She hesitates a second and I can feel the indecision. She’s still not sure this was the right choice.
“Why did you run away like that?” she asks me finally.
“I was stupid,” I say, taking a step forward. She doesn’t move but she doesn’t come closer. “When you said it… I panicked. I never imagined myself as a father and I had a lot to think about. I know I shouldn’t have walked off like that.”
“No,” she whispers. “Do you have any idea how alone I’ve been?”
That hurts. I cringe and hate myself even more. “I know,” I say. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
She cocks her head. “You don’t get it. I’m pregnant, Gavin. And we can’t do anything about that.”
“Listen, I did a lot of thinking. I did a lot of planning, actually. That’s why I didn’t call or show up right away. I wanted all of this to be done so that you’d understand.”
“Understand what?” she asks.
“Come on.” I reach my hand out.
She stares at it and I can tell she’s not sure if she should take it. It represents a decision, and if she doesn’t come with me, she won’t know.
But she reaches out and takes my hand. I hold it tight and lead her into the room, shutting the door and locking it behind us.
Hospital call rooms aren’t glamourous. They’re usually pretty small, with a bed or a bunk bed, a little desk, and that’s pretty much it. Sometimes they have a bathroom, which our hospital fortunately includes, but it’s small and it’s cramped.
I filled the whole space with candles. I lit each of them carefully, leaving a space in the middle of the small room for the table and two chairs. She sucks in a breath when she sees all the candles, the flowers on the table, and I lead her over to her seat. I pull it out.
