by Iris Parker
Pregnant.
Blood rushed up to my head, making me dizzy and disoriented. Jessie must’ve noticed that I had noticed, and her eyes squeezed shut with a grimace of pain.
What on earth was going on?
Neither of us said anything, and after another few seconds Jessie’s eyes finally opened long enough for her to turn around and practically run towards Dr. Flint’s office. The door closed behind her with a loud, solid click. I could barely hear it over the sound of my heart, still pounding wildly in my chest.
The shock of seeing Jessie alone would’ve been huge, but seeing her like that was almost incomprehensible. Not only had she looked as if she’d been through hell, but pregnant of all things? How had that happened?
Well, obviously I knew how it had happened.
I just didn’t want to imagine it.
How far along was she? Several months, at least. Maybe even close to giving birth, by the look of her. That would’ve made her pregnant when we were together, and my heart revolted at the thought. Somehow that seemed worse than the alternative, much worse.
Or maybe it had happened after? But that, too, seemed like a possibility I didn’t want to consider.
Which only left….
I paused, trying desperately to stop my head from building one extravagant scenario after the other. In front of me, the secretary looked concerned as she waited for me to take the pen from her hand. I tried to smile as I grabbed it and signed the autograph for her nephew. My head was swarming with questions and my chest constricted with every breath I took.
“Are you okay, Alton?” John asked as he placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Just—just a bit shaken,” I said finally. “It’s been a long, hard morning.”
“Yeah,” John agreed. “No matter how many times I do this, it never gets any easier.”
“You can go ahead, I’ll just run to the bathroom and then go straight home,” I lied. I needed to buy myself time alone to think on what to do next. John smiled and his grip on my shoulder intensified for a second before he let go.
“All right, buddy. Let me know if you need anything.” John was the best agent anyone could dream of, hands down. But there was no way any of this was even remotely explainable.
I couldn’t even explain it to myself.
With a polite nod, I walked down the hall with John and said goodbye, ducking into a bathroom while he continued out the main exit.
A large mirror hung above the spotless sink, and I could see that I looked terrible. My face was pale and stricken, with eyes that looked like a wild animal caught in a hunter's snare. I splashed some cold water on my cheeks, trying to regain some semblance of composure.
Jessie Wilson.
My heart somersaulted in my chest. She was here, finally, just a few feet away. I had no idea what I was going to say to her, but there was no way in hell I was leaving without answers.
I needed to know what was going on, now more than ever.
Jessie
With my heart pounding against my ribcage, I tried hard to focus on the barrage of bad news coming out of Dr. Flint's mouth. It was devastating, but I’d already heard most of it.
The baby wasn’t a genetic match for Ezra, not even remotely. We’d known all along that there was a very real chance that the cord blood wouldn’t be usable, but it was still hard to stomach the confirmation. I’d had plenty of time to grieve already, and I did my best to put on a brave face and nod along as the bad news continued.
Ezra needed another round of chemo, and his prognosis was getting worse with each passing day. The situation wasn’t grim enough for Dr. Flint to suggest palliative care, but I wondered how far away that could be. The cord blood had been my last hope, and it hadn’t worked.
And the things I’d done to get it….
Alton’s sudden appearance in the waiting room was like some cruel cosmic joke, an undeniable reminder of how far I’d fallen. Not that I could’ve ever forgotten, but actually seeing him in the flesh was a completely different story.
He’d looked so stunned and so hurt, even before noticing my belly. I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care, but it just wasn’t working. I’d pushed away every value and scruple that I had, all for nothing. I’d told myself he was the bastard who’d refused to help in the first place, but I just didn’t know anymore.
I’d wondered about that a lot, alone at night in my bed, in the emptiness of my apartment.
Wondering how he was.
Wondering who he was.
He’d been the perfect gentlemen in Atlantic City, but I’d convinced myself it was all just an act to get into my pants. Except the look on his face in the waiting room had been no act, that much was obvious. And the messages he’d left on my phone had seemed genuine, too. Of course I’d saved them—they were the last tenuous link I could ever have with the man who still filled my heart. I’d spent so many sleepless nights fighting the urge to call him, but I’d already burned that bridge long ago.
I’d played him recklessly and foolishly, and now all I could do was pray that he wouldn’t stick around in the waiting room. Except part of me hoped that he would. That was the seriously confused part of me, the one that still dreamed of collapsing into his arms after another full day at the hospital. As much as I wanted it, I knew I couldn’t afford to listen to that desire. Everything in my life was completely messed up, and drawing Alton into that mess against his will made me sick to my stomach.
Dr. Flint finished reciting all the bad news I had known was coming. It was nothing I hadn't already heard, but as he hugged me goodbye, I felt myself hang on to him a little tighter.
I left the office on wobbly knees, my heart pounding as I anxiously peeked my head into the waiting room. As terrified as I was that I might run into Alton, I was at least as worried that I wouldn’t.
He wasn’t there.
I sighed, letting the fear and relief mix with the bone-deep exhaustion that never really went away. Still trembling, I left the waiting area and began the all-too-familiar walk back to Ezra’s room.
“Jessie,” Alton’s voice said, stopping me in my tracks. As much as I didn’t want to see that hurt face again, I found myself turning on my heels to face him. He was standing in a semi-private alcove off the hallway, his whole demeanor cold and rigid. Fighting back the nausea, I tried to speak.
“Alton,” I stuttered. “What—what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his voice frigid and expectant.
“I, uh…it’s a long story.”
“You don’t say,” he answered flatly, his eyebrow arched conspicuously as he eyed my stomach. “And not the only long story you have for me, is it?”
My heart sank further into my chest as I leaned back against a wall, all strength gone. “No, not the only one,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.
“We need to talk,” he said harshly, and I wanted to scream to him. To warn him that we didn’t need to talk, that finding out would only destroy his life the way it had destroyed mine.
But of course I didn’t.
Alton deserved to know everything.
Or maybe I was just too tired, too desperate, and too alone.
Either way, my head was spinning as I finally broke down and decided to tell him the truth.
All of the truth, starting ten years ago.
Alton
There was a time and place for everything, and the middle of a hospital hallway wasn’t the place for this conversation. We ended up in a small café, sitting across from each other in awkward silence. I could feel the tension from my shoulders down to the pit of my stomach as I waited anxiously for an explanation.
It appeared that Jessie wasn’t faring any better than me. This was the first chance I’d gotten to really look at her since we ran into each other over an hour ago, and judging by her appearance, the situation was dire. From her short and shallow breaths to the way she kept wringing her hands together, everything about her se
emed close to panic.
Her eyes were just as beautiful and intriguing as ever. They hadn’t changed one bit.
They were the only thing that hadn’t, I realized with a lump in my throat. Her face was ashen, and the shadows of worry that I remembered from Atlantic City had become like permanent scars. All the enthusiasm and life had been drained out of her, leaving a tired shell of her former self. Her hands seemed to shake all the time now, and somehow, she actually looked thinner than I remembered despite the bump under her woolen coat.
She looked back at me, a small and apologetic smile on her face. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t even know where to begin. Thankfully I didn’t have to wonder long; Jessie spoke up before I did.
“I'm sorry, Alton,” she said, looking down at her hands. The mousy, defeated tone in her voice told me that whatever she was apologizing for, it went a lot further than just not returning my calls.
“For what, exactly?”
“Not contacting you sooner.”
I still wasn't sure of what she meant. She’d had every right in the world to not pursue a relationship with me, a fact that I knew well from being on the other side of the fence so often. It had stung badly, and I hadn’t quite gotten over that disappointment, but yet Jessie’s expression was more somber than anything I’d been expecting.
There was the obvious implication, of course, but she hadn’t said that the baby was mine. And I wasn’t going to jump to that conclusion based on a simple I’m sorry.
“I’ve never actually been ghosted before, you know.” I said finally. “And I certainly never expected you to be the first to do it, not after Atlantic City.”
“I had urgent things to take care of,” she said, her head lowered as she looked down at her hands.
I nodded. Of course I wanted to know what those things were—wondering why Jessie had just vanished like that had been an all-consuming question for the past five months, a puzzle that kept me up at night and threatened to turn into an obsession. But now there was another question burning on my lips, one that had to take priority.
“Were you pregnant in Atlantic City?” I asked, my voice a bit wobbly and hesitant. Beads of sweat were pearling on my forehead, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so damned flustered.
Jessie was quiet for what seemed like an eternity, each second less tolerable than the last. When she finally did open her mouth to answer, we were interrupted by the waitress. I ordered an espresso, Jessie asked for herbal tea.
It was surreal to finally be with her again, sitting here and ordering drinks like nothing had happened—except of course something had happened, something major.
The waitress left and Jessie wrung her hands together, giving me a mortified look.
“No,” she said finally. “I wasn’t.”
Blood rushed to my head, making me dizzy as I tried to consider the implications. Logically I should’ve been upset by the news, and part of me was, but part of me was relieved to hear that she hadn’t lied in Atlantic City about not being with anyone else recently.
That only left one last, obvious question. I hadn’t asked yet because I honestly didn’t know what I wanted her answer to be, and either way the news would be shattering.
“Is it mine?” I asked finally. My voice came out rough and raw, so quiet that I was convinced nobody else could hear it.
But the stricken look on Jessie’s face told me that she’d heard me just fine. Her eyes darted to mine, her pupils dilated and shiny with tears. Her answer was short, just a single word, but it was enough to turn my whole world upside down.
“Yes.”
It felt like a punch to my gut, but it hit me harder than physical violence ever could have. I didn’t answer for a while, the veins in my temples throbbing with blood as I tried to process the information.
Jessie was pregnant.
With my child.
And she’d kept it secret for five months.
I brought my hands to my head, trying to massage the shock away. When that didn’t work I balled them into fists of tension. Neither of us spoke, and slowly the dread and shock faded enough that I could once again form coherent thoughts.
It wasn’t an improvement.
I wanted to punch the table, maybe break a few bones or something—anything to distract me from having to face this. But I knew that it would never work. This was too big to run away from, too serious to ignore.
“What the hell, Jessie?”
“I'm sorry, really sorry,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
“You said you were on the pill. Was that a lie?”
Jessie’s silence spoke volumes.
“You also said you were clean. Do I need to get tested, too? Was everything you told me a lie, Jessie?”
“Not everything!” she pleaded. “I’m clean. I really hadn’t been with anyone for years before we went to Atlantic City, Alton.” Her voice was poignant, and I wanted to believe her, but the anger and hurt pulsing through my chest told me not to. She’d already betrayed me in the worst possible way, and I’d be a fool to believe anything she said.
“But the rest, being on the pill. That was a lie, wasn’t it?” I asked again.
Jessie bent her head down and buried her face into her outstretched hands.
“Yes—I'm so sorry,” she said, sobbing softly.
My fist met the table with a loud bang, rattling the condiments and drawing stares from nearby tables. I didn’t care. Not only had I been played like a fool, it was by the only woman I’d ever actually felt close to.
The only one I hadn’t suspected might do something like that.
“Well congratulations,” I said bitterly, the acid in my voice burning through the lump in my throat. “I guess you got me. What do you want? Money? Is this some sick scheme to get child support? Is that why you did it!?”
“God no!” she squealed, breaking down into uncontrollable sobs. “Nothing like that!” Even more people were staring now, glaring at me for being a monster who’d make a pregnant woman cry. I was beyond caring; they could think whatever they wanted. I was enraged, disappointed, and in far deeper shit than I’d ever been in before. I wanted to ask her why again, to get clear answers, even though I knew it wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Over the next horrible minute, Jessie’s sobs got quieter, slowly fading back into a tense silence that neither of us broke. The waitress swooped in and placed our drinks on the table before running off again, but Jessie didn’t even look up. She looked broken and utterly defeated, and the fact that I actually felt bad for her made me even angrier and more confused.
There was no room for that between us, not anymore. I’d wanted her so badly, and look where it had gotten me.
I drank my coffee as fast as I could, pushing the cup of herbal tea closer to Jessie despite my better judgment. She barely looked up, her eyes and nose all red and puffy in direct contrast to the sallow pallor of her face. I hated seeing her like that, but she’d already tricked me once. I wasn’t going to let her fool me into forgetting that I was the victim here, not her.
“My lawyer will contact you,” I said coldly, at a complete loss for what else to say. I didn’t have the slightest inkling of what to do with this news, I only knew that I needed time to process it and start making some sense of it. All I knew was that I couldn’t stay here, couldn’t give her the chance to lie to me again.
I tried to leave, but couldn’t bring myself to stand. I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers, watching Jessie despite my best effort not to. She didn’t look like a triumphant con artist, or a scammer about to take home eighteen years’ worth of paydays. She just looked like she’d been through hell.
The last remaining fragment of the Jessie I knew was gone now, completing her transformation into a stranger. Somewhere during our conversation that spark in her eyes had been snuffed out, leaving them glossy and empty as she stared down at the table.
I shuddered.
Every instinct I ha
d for self-preservation was telling me to cut and run, to never communicate with her again unless it was through a lawyer. That was the smart thing to do, the only appropriate response to this level of betrayal.
But one thing was clear to me. Whatever horrors Jessie had been through in the past five months, it hadn’t succeeded in crushing her spirit. Not completely, anyway. Not until I’d come along and finished the job.
And some stupid, hopelessly naïve part of me hated that. Hated it more than anything, hated it even more than what she’d done to me.
“Why did you do it, Jessie?” I asked, wondering how words could even come out past the knot in my throat.
Jessie
I wrapped my hands around the cup of herbal tea, my fingers drawn to the warmth of the porcelain. If Alton had been acting cold earlier, the condemnation in his voice now was like ice on a frigid midwinter morning.
But of course I deserved that. I hated that I was putting him through this, hated the choices I’d made and the road that had led me here. I’d been so damned sure that my plan was going to work, that Alton was a total bastard who deserved everything he got, that there was no way he’d remember me a week later. I’d actually almost convinced myself that he wouldn’t even care that I was pregnant, so long as he never had to meet the kid or pay child support.
Wrong on every single count. It was obvious now that I’d been deluding myself, and had been since Atlantic City. In a horrible twist I’d gotten everything exactly wrong, right down to my view of Alton himself. He wasn’t some thug who could pretend to be a decent man in private, he was a good man who pretended to be a hell-raiser in public.
And that was going to make the rest of the news that much worse for him. I shuddered, wondering how I was going to tell him about Ezra without hurting him even worse than I already had.
“Why, Jessie?” Alton asked again, the disdain in his voice a perfect companion to the spiral of self-hate and contempt I’d trapped myself in.
I looked at my trembling fingers encircling the porcelain cup. Alton deserved to know the truth, to finally hear the explanation I should’ve given him five months ago. But the words caught in my throat, stolen away every time I tried to explain just how much Ezra was suffering. My son—Alton’s son—might not live to see another year, and the thought made everything else impossible to bear. I felt so tired, so drained of anything vital. What little I still had, I owed it to the baby growing inside of me. Sometimes, like now, I was afraid that I actually had nothing left, just an endless tide of self-blame and regret.
