“And you never rescheduled?”
In total disbelief, I sift through the pages of my calendar and murmur, “How could I have forgotten?”
“Hold on, it never crossed your mind that you forgot when you were having sex with Leo last month?”
“No. And I even pulled my calendar out on the flight home to see when my next shot was scheduled.”
“When is it?”
Looking down at my calendar, “Tomorrow.”
“Guess you can forget about going to that one, huh?”
Nervously staring at my friend, “Do you think Barbara’s right?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Twenty minutes later, after a quick run to the drug store, Slutty Co-worker sneaks a peek at the stick I peed on three minutes ago and vivaciously asks, “Are you ready?”
I never thought, once I became an adult, that being pregnant could be a nightmare. After all, it was engraved on the Life List I made when I was sixteen. Even though that list didn’t pan out like I dreamt it would, and I promised myself I was done with lists forever, I couldn’t resist and made that new little one right after Leo suggested we get married in Fiji. Everything was falling into place and it seemed safe to start planning my life again. And, item #6 on my old list, to have children, became #3 on my new list, and I happily dreamt of the day I would become pregnant. However, I happily dreamt about it as a married woman…not as a knocked-up, dumped and dejected single mom who’s barely capable of raising the kid her dead friends left her. But, all of that stuff is not why a positive pregnancy result would be a nightmare. It’s what I’m too afraid to admit that makes it one.
Closing my eyes, “I’m ready.”
“It’s negative.”
Because the super emotional side of me swears she already felt contractions, I snap open my eyes and look at Slutty Co-worker, shocked and confused.
“Wow. Guess I dodged a huge bullet with that one, didn’t I?”
“Why’s that? I mean, it’s not like I’m into trapping guys by getting knocked up, but you definitely would’ve gotten Leo back.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t tell you this because quite frankly, it scared me a little, but when you were asking me those questions about the night I spent at Kurt’s house-”
“Oh God, the underwear…was it crunchy?”
“Would you stop with that!”
In actuality, the peek I had of the underwear the morning I got home from his house revealed no such crunch. Even so, the lack of evidence did nothing to curb my concern over what might’ve actually happened in his bed.
“What then?”
“Well, you asked me how I knew if nothing happened with Kurt, and I said I knew because I’d never cheat on Leo.”
“But?”
“But Kurt never actually denied it.”
“Well, this is getting interesting…”
“The thing is I don’t remember much of anything from that night. To be honest…I might’ve slept with him.”
“Oh boy.”
“The only thing Kurt told me after that night was whatever happened…wasn’t his fault. I’ve been trying to convince myself he was referring to merely waking up in his bed, but whenever I add up the facts…lots of wine…the emotional moment we shared with the graduation picture…the tank top and underwear…all signs point to the obvious. Don’t they?”
My supportive side-kick knows I’m about to lose it and wraps her arms around me.
“It’s been killing me that I might’ve betrayed Leo, but since I knew, or at least I thought I knew, I was protected by the shot, it’s been kind of easy to believe what I wanted to believe…”
“…Because there would never be proof to the contrary.”
“Exactly.”
I turn toward my friend so she can see how disgusted I am.
“Now can you see how being pregnant would’ve been a total nightmare?”
“Absolutely. You slept with Leo two weeks after that night. You’d have a little baby daddy mystery on your hands, wouldn’t you?”
I look into her eyes and insist she tell me the truth.
“Do you think I could’ve actually slept with Kurt?”
“Not a chance, I know how much you love Leo. But, you should probably find out for sure.”
“Why?”
Handing me the stick, “Because you’re pregnant.”
Hush Little Baby
November, 2002
I remember this feeling. It’s a larger than life kind of thing. It’s a feeling you can only understand if you’ve been told you’re pregnant. In an instant, you’re not just you, you’re two people. Your life is over and just beginning all at the same time. You’ll never be ready for it…even when you’ve been planning for it your entire life. And you certainly can’t be ready for it when you don’t even know who the father is.
“What did you just say?”
Handing me the stick, Slutty Co-worker giddily says, “See right there? It’s blue, and blue means you’re pregnant!”
Frantically flipping the box over so I can match the results, it’s easy to conclude that, I am, indeed pregnant.
“Why the hell did you tell me it was negative?”
“Just fucking with you. It might be the last time we have fun like this now that you’re gonna be all maternal. Pregnant women are so…blah.”
“Holy shit, I have a baby…growing inside of me…RIGHT NOW?”
They’re the exact words I spoke when I found out I was pregnant at seventeen and even though I’m thirty-three now, they’re coming out as frightened and confused as they did back then.
“Yep. And now that we’ve established that, I guess it’d be a good idea to establish who the father is.”
Oh my God! This is a total nightmare! I’m officially a candidate for one of those ‘who’s my baby daddy’ episodes of The Jerry Springer Show.
Judging by the look on my face, Slutty feels compelled to make the most horrid of horrid remarks, “That is…if you decide to keep it.”
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I’m not supposed to be comparing myself to Jerry Springer trash, and I’m not supposed to be asked if I’m going to keep my baby. I’m a grown-up now! A real live child psychologist even called me one! Someone please tell me, HOW IS THIS MY PATHETIC LIFE…AGAIN?
“Chrissy, you are gonna keep it…right?”
Leo doesn’t want me anymore. We made our break, and I have no right to ruin his life for the millionth time. I will never tell him about this.
“Hunny, are you in shock?”
And there’s no way I’m asking Kurt if this is his. I don’t want to know if I slept with him. It would make me sick knowing I did that to Leo. I will never tell him about this.
“You’re freaking me out, girl. Can you please tell me what you’re thinking?”
But how long can I keep a pregnancy a secret? Leo’s no problem because he’s on the east coast, but I see Kurt almost every Friday and Sunday when we exchange Kendall. Eventually he’ll find out…and if he asks if it’s his, then I’ll know the ugly truth about what really happened that night.
“You’re turning white. Sit tight, I’m gonna get you some water.”
How will I tell Kendall? What will I tell Kendall? Should we move into the Lafayette house that I can barely afford? I can’t bear to sell it though. It’s the dream house I was supposed to share with my dream husband as we raised our dream family. I look up toward the sky and internally scream, SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT I’M SUPPOSED TO DO? And then I remember what happened the last time I begged for the answer to that question…Dr. Maria called to tell me to follow my heart, it’ll take me where I need to go. Looking at the blue stick I ask myself, what does your heart want, Chrissy? Within a nanosecond, my mind answers. My heart wants a family. Like a bottle going into a screaming baby’s mouth, I’m all of a sudden composed. Kendall , this baby, and I are going to m
ove into that damn dream house, and I’m going to FINALLY do what I should’ve done starting all the way back at sixteen. I’m going to take it day by day. No lists. No expectations of what the perfect life is supposed to look like.
“Here’s your water, hunny. Now…please tell me what the heck you’re gonna do.”
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but what I did when I was seventeen was, by far, the worst. Sliding my hands down to my belly, drawing strength from my new family member, I answer my old friend.
“Of course, I’m keeping this baby.”
“Oh, this is so exciting! When can we start telling people?”
“Never.”
How can I forget you
Memories come and go
You’re all I've ever wanted
You’re all I've ever known
Can I be happy
Living with your ghost
The pictures tell the story
I took them off the wall
It’s hard enough to get through
I still can feel the fall
Do you even think of me at all?
(Only you, Matthew Perryman)
It’s Time
November, 2002
It was four years ago that I signed the lease to my cottage. The courage it took for me to put my name on that contract…the courage it took for me to break the news to Kurt that I was leaving him…the courage it took for me to sleep in it alone for the first time, all of it is something I wish I could write a book about. And, the first thing I would write is how much harder it was to leave than I ever thought possible. My little six hundred square foot dwelling has saved my life over and over again. Leaving it, feels like a death.
My landlord, although bummed he wouldn’t be getting any more of my money, was accommodating when I had to break the three-year lease that Leo and I just signed a few months ago. And knowing I had to break it because we split-up and I no longer had a man in my life, he was nice enough to help me pack up the place. Standing in it now, cold and empty just like it was the first time I stepped foot in it, I’m just as alone and scared as I was back then. Before I shut the door for the last time, I take one last tour of my love shack.
First, I scan the vacant bathroom, and my eyes land on the place they had so many times over the last year. The towel I had expected so much out of, is now sitting in the bottom of a box somewhere. When push came to shove, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. Aside from my Banana Republic ring, it’s the only physical reminder I have left of Leo, unless, of course…the human being growing inside of me is his. With that stomach-turning-mystery-of-a-thought, I move on to the bedroom. I stare forever at the outline of where the bed used to be, the bed I gave everything I had to Leo in. The mattress is now in the dump and the frame has been donated. I never want to be reminded of what I’ll never experience again. Next, I walk out to the deck and stare blankly at the creek, feeling sad I didn’t do it a lot more while I lived here. Finally, I walk to the kitchen, the place where so much happened. I glide my hand across the countertop one last time and touch the wall where Leo placed my hands the night I “bumped” into him at The Round Up. I close my eyes and feel everything all over again. The temptation to change my mind about leaving the cottage hits me hard, and I swiftly move my hands to my stomach to draw the strength I need to move on to the next stage of my life.
My landlord pops his head inside and tells me the U-Haul is ready and he’s waiting to follow me to my new house…that I’m now the sole owner of and can barely afford. The real estate agent made the buyout of Leo’s share of the home super easy and there wasn’t any need to deal directly with him on the transaction. I appreciated her willingness to get the job done as quickly as possible, but I pray it wasn’t so she could do him as quickly as possible. The thought of Leo even giving her the gift of his voice over the phone sends me into a frenzy, so I have to force any and all thought of him giving more to her out of my mind. Rubbing my stomach, I exhale, “It’s not healthy for either of us, is it?”
When I know my landlord is back outside, I take a Swiss army knife out of my pocket and start carving. Before I close the kitchen cabinet, I take a moment to admire my work. Carved deep into the wood are the words, “I loved here.” Then I bend down and grab the only box I wouldn’t let my landlord help me with, the one containing Kelly’s videos. Standing in the entryway, I give my refuge one last glance before saying “thank you” and then I close the door for the last time.
During the ten-minute drive to my new house, I mull over my next moves as well as the ones taken over the past few weeks, like my first doctor’s appointment. Slutty Co-worker, who so far is the only person who knows about the baby, came along for moral support. Actually, it was more like slapstick support…
“Can you estimate the time of conception?”
Before I have a chance to answer the doctor, my dear old friend chimes in with, “Ain’t that the million dollar question?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well…she slept with her ex-husband and her ex-fiancé within…” looking back at me, “How many weeks between the two, hunny?”
Mortified, I attempt to clear things up for the doctor.
“I’m not exactly sure if I slept with my ex-husband, but if I did, it would’ve been two weeks before I slept with my…ex-fiancé, August thirty-first.”
Jesus, how is it that a woman who has only slept with two men in her entire life can have so many ex’s?
Confused, the doctor asks, “You’re not exactly sure if you had sex with your ex-husband?”
“She was drunk.”
I shoot a look at Slutty to stop doing me favors.
“I…um…I had a lot of wine that night, but I want you to know it had been nine months since I had anything to drink. It’s not like I’m an alcoholic or anything.”
“Yep. Thank God those days are over!”
The doctor peculiarly brushes off Slutty’s remark and hits me with the guilt I knew I had coming.
“Being highly intoxicated isn’t exactly the most ideal way to bring a child into the world.”
Thanks fuck-head.
“I’m aware of that, and it scares me. If this baby is his…” Seriously! It does NOT get more Jerry Springer than this “…will it be okay?”
“Everything should be fine. I know being a first time parent can be really scary-”
“Oh, she’s not a first time parent! She has a daughter!”
I shoot Slutty Co-worker another shut the F up look.
“You do?”
Oh brother. “Yeah, I’m the guardian of my dead…best friend’s…daughter.”
“Where’s that father?”
“Uh, he’s dead too.”
I can tell by the look on the doctor dude’s face that he’s wondering if he should call social services or the police and his judgmental looks are all my big-mouth friend can take. She jumps out of her chair and attacks.
“No! No! No! You don’t look at this woman like that!”
I try to interrupt the outburst, but there’s no stopping her.
“Sure, she might sound like a fuck up, Doctor, but this is a good woman with a heart as big as her stomach’s about to get! Two of her dearest friends are dead, and she’s raising their child like she’s her own, and she’s doing a better job than you or anyone else could do. And, yes, she might’ve slept with two men in two weeks, but she loved both of those guys more than I’ve ever loved half of one. So just lube up that stick thing, put it inside of her, and tell us everything’s okay, because we have a baby to plan for and your asshole looks are holding us up from doing that! Got it?”
And that’s how my first doctor’s appointment went. Probably not something for the baby books, that’s for sure. But I left there that day knowing two things, Slutty Co-worker will do anything to protect me, and I’m due on either June seventh or June twenty-second…depending on who the father is.
Now, just five minutes from my new house, I’m idling a
t the stop light in front of The Round Up. Carefree girls, who aren’t eight to twelve weeks pregnant, wander in and out like remembering to apply their lip gloss is the most pressing thing they have to do. I grab the rear view mirror and stare at my make-up-less mom face. I’d look prettier than this if Leo was with me. We’d be making this drive together, laughing at The Round Up people and excited about meeting the furniture delivery guys at the new house. It would be a day to cross off of our shared life list. But, no, we have separate lists now. He’s probably hanging out with the types of girls I’m watching go in and out of The Round Up, and you know what? He deserves it. He deserves to be young. The light turns green and in the nick of disparaging time, I hit the gas.
Rounding the corner to my new house, I see the delivery guys loading a crib into the garage. Slutty Co-worker bought it for me. It’s vintage white wrought iron and it’s absolutely stunning. But, as beautiful of a gift as it is, it can’t go in the house yet…I still have to tell Kendall about the baby. I park on the street and watch from the car as my landlord immediately gets busy unloading what little belongings I have, and a few of my new neighbors start to approach my car with coffee and muffins. Yep, as alone and scared as I was moving into my cottage four years ago, it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling right now. Placing my hand on the box of videos that’s buckled into the passenger seat, I whisper, “I think it’s time to start watching you.”
Interrogation
December, 2002
“What’s with the moo-moo?”
It’s been months since I’ve been to the cemetery and months since I’ve seen Courtney and Nicole. Work, Kendall, the studios, morning sickness…life, have taken over. And in watching Kelly’s videos, I know she’d approve of my absence.
I started at the beginning, just like she asked me to do in her letter. The very first night I moved into my new house, after I kissed Kendall goodnight, I made a cup of that damn Nepalese tea, settled into my brand new big bed and put on the first video, titled, Three years old, which was Kendall’ age when Kelly got sick. I couldn’t have done it even two months ago. I still wasn’t ready to see her…to hear her. But with each passing pregnant day, I needed Kelly’s voice of reason more and more. So, I closed my eyes, blindly aimed the remote at the television, hit play, and there it was.
The Unexpected List (The List Trilogy) Page 27
