by Asia Marquis
He's right. She smiles as she remembers playing board games and chasing those kids around the house. Still, babysitting is different from being a parent. “I don't know what I'm going to do. What should I do, Dad?”
“I couldn't possibly make that choice for you, but you let me know what you decide and I will support you all the way. If you don't have a baby now, I hope you will one day. Oh, shit-” He pulls the phone away from his face and yells something in Irish. Tiffany never learned the language, but she's guessing he's yelling at the chickens to get back in the yard; they try to escape every morning. “Sorry, the chickens are off down the road again. I have to go, but I'll call you soon!”
“Okay! I love you!”
“I love you too! Be strong.”
There's a soft silence on the other end. Tiffany's confusion is plain on her face. If her dad thinks she can be a good mother, she has to believe him. But is now the right time?
As if to answer that, her nausea returns. She runs back to the bathroom, just barely making it. Her stomach feels better afterward, but feelings are still vague.
“With Max helping me, I could be a good parent.” Tiffany sits down at her dining table, in front of the papers the clinic gave her. She pulls them over, looking at the clip art of tiny babies on the top of the first page. Looking at them makes her feel anxious.
She imagines what the child growing within her might look like. Would it look more like her, or like Max? Would it have her nose, and his lips? Would it have her hair, or his? Imagining the baby as a little girl makes the center of Tiffany's chest burn with love.
Placing her hand on her stomach, her heart flutters. Within her is the first thing she's ever created. How could she destroy such a precious gift?
Tiffany smiles, rubbing around her belly button and looking out her window. “I'm going to cancel the abortion, Dad.”
Tiffany calls the clinic when it opens at 10. She's surprised to hear the secretary's voice full of relief when she says she's canceling her appointment. It makes the red head feel even better about her decision.
Max texts at 11:45 to say he's on his way over. Tiffany calls her work to take the day off before tidying up her apartment. She forgets, however, to put the papers from the clinic away.
When Max gets there, he looks tired and wrung out. “You look worse than I expected.”
Max grunts and flops down onto her couch. “I have a problem.”
“Oh no,” Tiffany groans, sitting down with him. “What now?”
“I told Dad about you and Charlotte. He kicked me out and cut me off. Jared says he's going to give me money, but I spent the night crashing on his couch. I was wondering if-”
“If you could stay with me?” Tiffany finishes. He nods. “I guess it's not the worst thing in the world. You can be here to help out if I get sick or need help getting to work.”
“Thanks,” Max says. “I'll do whatever I can to help out around here. Do you have plans for dinner?”
“Not yet. Do you know how to cook?”
Max nods, a smile twitching at his lips as he fights back a few relieved tears. “My maid taught me a few things when I was a kid. Remember that month where I was out of school?”
“Because you broke half the bones in your body?”
Max laughs, blushing. “It was a bad skiing trip. But yeah, during that month Rosie taught me how to cook burgers and grilled cheese and spaghetti. She even taught me a few casserole dishes. It's probably the most fun I've ever had.”
Max stands up and paces around the room. “Have you seen a doctor yet, about the baby?”
Tiffany's nerves fire off. She shakes her head. “No, not yet.” Not aside from the one who was supposed to abort it. Her fingers dance circles around her belly button as her heart flutters at the thought of going through with this pregnancy. “What are you going to do about Charlotte?”
“I don't know. I want to be there for her, too, and help raise that baby. She doesn't want anything to do with me, though, and you know how stubborn she can be. I'll just have to wait and see what happens, which means I get to focus on you.”
The man moves closer to Tiffany and places a hand on her stomach. His face softens, and as Tiffany watches his green eyes swell with pride her heart begins to melt. She can't stay mad at this boy that she's loved for so long.
“Ah, I have to pee. Could you have a glass of water ready for me when I get out? I'm trying to drink more water. And we should probably go grocery shopping tonight, all I really have is junk food.”
“I have the money for that. Jared said he'll be by sometime this week with a check for me, too.”
Tiffany stops, thinking for a moment. “You can't rely on him forever, Max. You need to look for a job.”
Max's jaw clenches, his lips going tight. “I know. I'm going to put in an application a few places online. I brought my laptop over, do you have wifi?”
She tells him that she does, and then goes to the bathroom. When she sits down, she wonders how this all might play out. Maybe Max will come to love her. How might it feel to have him touch her with love, rather than lust? What would his arms feel like, wrapped around her waist? What would his lips feel like, pressed against hers?
Her face goes hot as she shakes herself out of her erotic thoughts. I'm pregnant. Now isn't the time to be thinking of sex. Still, her heart is beating hard in her chest and her breath is shallow.
After washing her hands she splashes cold water on her face to refresh her and keep her thoughts from going to the gutter again. “Self control,” she whispers, her eyebrows stitching together. “I need to have self control.” It's never been a virtue she's possessed.
When she comes out of the bathroom, Max is hovering over the table with an empty glass. There's a paper in his other hand and his eyes are full of pain.
“What's wrong?” She asks, coming to touch his shoulder. Then she sees the papers he's holding. Shit! I left out the clinic papers!
He turns to her, his voice choked. “Are you getting an abortion?”
“I was-”
“You were going to get an abortion? Without talking to me first?!”
“Max!” She slaps the papers out of his hands, throwing them to the floor. “Max, I was scared! I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm still scared! You've met my mother! What if I turn out like her!”
“You won't?”
“How can you know that?”
“Because, Tiffany, you always took great care of me. Every time I was sick or heartbroken, you were there for me. You're kind, and you're smart, and even though you're a mess right now you weren't always a mess and you won't always be a mess. You're already a lot more mature.” He takes her hands in his, his warmth radiating throughout her body. “You're going to be a great mother, and I'm going to help you. Please, don't get an abortion.”
“It's fine, though. I already canceled.”
Relief washes over Max's face. He sighs and rubs his mouth, his scruffy beard scratching against his hand. “Thank God.”
“You really want this baby?” Tiffany asks, her voice small. Max pulls her in for a hug. His heart beats against his chest and Tiffany can feel it thudding against hers. Her red hair tickles his nose.
“Of course I do.” He rubs her back, feeling the stress in her muscles. He finds himself amazed at how good this hug feels and, when she pulls away, how cold his body becomes. “We're both going to do our best. Now, let me get that water for you.” He bites his lower lip, wishing to pull her in for another hug.
Tiffany bends over and picks up the clinic papers. She looks at them, studying her shaky signature at the bottom before crumpling the papers up and throwing them away. She might not have all the answers now, but if she and Max works together, she'll be able to find them. She's going to work just as hard as Max to make the miracle within her a happy, healthy baby.
10
Dr. Apfel, a short, thin woman of 48, presses against Tiffany's stomach. Every so often she'll give an inscrutible hum. Tiffan
y's face screws up with each press. Dr. Apfel stands back and writes something down on a clipboard, pushing her gray hair off of her shoulder as she does so.
“So, your tests came back with a few worries. You have a thin placenta and an iron deficiency. If you aren't careful, there could be complications.”
Tiffany's eyes widen. “What can I do?” Max stands next to her, draping an arm over her shoulder. Feeling his warmth against her arm instantly comforts her, but the fear of losing her baby is more powerful than that. She bites at one of her nails.
“You should pick up an iron supplement and quit your job. Any unnecessary physical strain will increase the likelihood of a miscarriage. You said you're a waitress, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“I was one when I was younger, too.” Her blue eyes fix on Max. “You need to make sure she quits her job. Money might be tight, but the baby's life should be the most important thing.”
Max gulps and nods, his arm flexing as he squeezes Tiffany closer to him. He looks down at her, her red hair covering her face so he can't see the single tear running down the side of her nose. Dr. Apfel reaches over and squeezes her hand.
“You'll be okay, dear. Talk to the nurse outside to schedule your next appointment.” With that, the older woman disappears down the hallway. Max pulls away from Tiffany, stuffing his hands into his jean pocket. Tiffany has no health insurance, so he had to bring Jared's credit card with him to pay for the appointment. He flips it around in his pocket absent mindedly.
“Are you alright?”
Tiffany's eyes meet his as the tears swell over and down to her chin. “I don't know if I can quit! You don't have a job and-”
“It's going to be okay. I'm looking for work, and Jared is helping us until I can find a job.” He takes her hand in his, the coldness of her skin scaring the hell out of him. “Trust me.”
“I'm trying.” Max helps her down from the examining table and hands her the pink purse she stuffed her phone and wallet into before following her back out to the lobby. They schedule another appointment a month from now and then pay for the visit with Jared's plastic.
Max makes himself busy cooking chicken breasts and macaroni while Tiffany calls her job. As the phone rings, Tiffany fidgets with a hangnail on her right hand. Am I really going to do this? Am I really going to quit without any notice? Is this absolutely necessary?
She knows the doctor wouldn't tell her to do something if it wasn't. She tells her manager the bad news as quickly as possible, a stream of apologies. Tiffany hates letting people down, and she's never quit a job on such short notice before.
Can I rely on Max to support me? She sets her phone down and flops down onto the bed. He's doing an okay job now. He complains about sleeping on the couch, sure, but I know that Max really cares about this baby.
Max steps into the room and the smell of tarragon swirls around the room. “Lunch is ready. Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm just...” She sits up, looking as if the whole world were supported by her shoulders. “I'm just stressed.”
Max looks at Tiffany's eyes, the green bright against the strands of red hair covering her forehead. A twitchy, burning feeling grows within him. I want to feel her lips. I need to...
He sits down next to her and pulls her in for a soft kiss. Tiffany freezes, then melts into him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close, feeling the kiss grow deeper. They kiss so long that Tiffany has to pull back to catch her breath, and when she does the guilt comes crashing down on her again. “Oh, God. You can't do this. I can't do this.”
“Why?”
“Please, Max,” she groans. “Please just go away.”
Max wants to tell her no, to kiss her hard and convince her of... what exactly? That he loves her? Does he love her? Even he can't be sure. He loves the baby inside of her, but is that clouding his judgment?
Rather than figure this out right now, Max stands back up and slips out of the bedroom, leaving Tiffany to think about her own feelings for him.
“Mrs. Van der Rohe?” The voice on the other end is the chipper secretary from Dr. Apfel's office.
“It's miss. I'm not married.”
“Oh, sorry! I'm just calling to confirm your ultrasound for today at 3 PM.”
Tiffany looks down at the toilet she was just puking in and wipes her mouth. “I don't know, I'm not feeling well.”
“Oh, but you might get to find out the baby's gender today!”
Tiffany stops, and a slow smile creeps onto her face. Finally, after all these weeks of not really being able to connect with the baby, she might get to start picking out names and clothes and a crib. She rushes to answer, “I'll be there!” The secretary giggles.
Bursting out of the bathroom, her sickness long forgotten, Tiffany runs over to Max. “Max! We're getting an ultrasound today!”
He turns away from the recorded football game. “We just got one of those like last week, didn't we?”
“We might find out if it's a boy or a girl!”
Seeing the joy and excitement on Tiffany's face proves to be infectious. Max grins. He hasn't seen her in a good mood since the night he knocked her up. “Now that does sound fun!”
“We have to go in an hour, so finish up watching the game! I'm going to jump in the shower!” Tiffany can't quite pinpoint why she's so giddy. Though it's true it hasn't really settled in that the baby in her tummy is real, she hasn't felt angry about it since Max moved in. Sure, he's a bit of a slob and his cooking still isn't great, but having a roommate to hold back your hair isn't so bad.
When Tiffany steps out of the shower, she finds Max sitting on the edge of the couch, one leg draped over the other and shaking like hell. “Are you nervous?” She asks, a smile tugging at her lips.
He rubs the back of his head. “A little bit, I guess. I just can't wait to pick out a name.” He watches as Tiffany bends over to stuff her purse full and, while observing her curves as they shift from side to side, feels a stirring of something deep within him. Anxiety, or downright fear? Maybe. But the emotion is warmer than those two.
Max has long since let Tiffany take over the radio in his car, her phone perpetually hooked up to it and playing loud pop music. She sings under her breath and Max can't help but smile at how sweet she is when she doesn't know he's watching.
She looks over at him and raises an eyebrow. “What are you smiling at?”
“Nothing. I'm just glad to see you in a good mood again.”
She blushes and looks out the window. The sign for the OBGYN is finally visible, and the white sign with red lettering gets her blood pumping. “Oh God, Max, I don't think I can go through with this.” She grips the door and his arm, squeezing both tight.
“Yes, you can.” He takes the hand that's squeezing his arm and holds it, turning to face her. “You're strong enough to take on any of this. And whenever you feel weak, I'll be here with you.”
Tiffany looks up into those gorgeous green eyes and just melts. His hands are so warm against her skin and she finds herself wondering what they might feel like against the rest of her body. Will it be similar to how it was the first night they were together? Would his lips taste salty again? Would his hands grip her hips the same way?
Her face flushing an even brighter shade of pink, Tiffany wrenches her hand away from him. “Thanks,” she mumbles, stepping out of the car and into the open air.
The goop on her stomach was cold at first, but the tool being pressed against her now is even colder. She winces and sucks in air as the gynecologist glides it against her skin, trying to find the perfect image of the baby within her.
Seeing her discomfort, Max fights the urge to take her hand again. She didn't like it last time, but he the urge to support her is strong. He takes her hand against his better judgment; instead of getting angry, though, she looks at him with relief. Her shoulders relax.
“Everything seems to be okay. Your baby is the correct size for eighteen weeks.” She pauses and sm
iles. “Do you want to know the baby's gender?”
Max looks down at Tiffany, who looks up at him with an expression he doesn't recognize. Without even asking, she says yes, but Max feels a pang of uncertainty. Knowing the gender makes the baby real. There's no taking this back.
Before he can protest, Dr. Apfel turns the screen towards them. There, in black and white, is the outline of a beautiful baby. Not all of the features can be made out, but even just this representation swells Max's heart further than he could ever imagine. Love isn't just something he feels. He is love, a burning love for this baby.
“Here's your daughter.”
Tiffany chokes back tears, but Max is surprised to find that he is, too. She squeezes his hand tight, smiling up at him as he watches the screen. Now he knows what he was feeling earlier as he watches her hips move. He was feeling love. But was it just love for his baby? Or for the mother, too?
“Now that we know that the baby is a girl, we should go shopping.” The two parents have just gotten into the car when Tiffany blurts this out. Max's heart jumps into his throat as he thinks about how much money he has.
“I just paid for this appointment,” he says, trying to keep his words calm. “I can't afford to go shopping right now.”
Tiffany's Irish temper flares. Maybe it's the hormones from being pregnant or just that he's been spending more time with her, but Max never witnessed Tiffany get angry this often in high school. He instinctively leans away from her.
“What do you mean you don't have any money? Why don't you have a job yet, Max? You're smart, you've got connections, your family has money–should be able to get a job. You know I can't work!”
Max frowns, worry accumulating in his forehead. “Yeah, I know, but no one wants to hire some loser without a degree and without work experience.”
“Then go ask your brother for some money!”
Max throws his hands up in a huff. “He doesn't have anymore to give me! He's focusing on his football career, he can't be spending his money on keeping his older brother afloat!”
