by Amy Faye
“I'll get you some water.” He leaves the room but, instead of going down to the kitchen he goes to the bathroom. He turns on the water, silent for a few moments as the water runs. Then he turns off the water. “Poppy, what are these?”
Max comes back into the bedroom holding two of the pregnancy tests. Poppy closes her eyes tight, wishing she were dead. “What do you think they are?”
“Pregnancy tests?”
“Right.”
He stops to consider this, then asks, “What does this line mean?”
“Oh, god...” Poppy moans, doubling over. “It means I'm pregnant, Max. I'm pregnant.”
“Congratulations!” He says, happy until he sees her anguish. “Do you know who the dad is?”
She doesn't say anything. After a few moments of silence, Max groans and sits down on the bed with her.
“It's me... isn't it?”
Poppy nods, her unruly hair falling into her eyes again. Max stands back up and gets her water, then hands it to her.
“Was there anyone else?”
“No, Max, there wasn't anyone else. But, like... don't worry about it. I'll take care of this,” she spits out, furious at him for somehow being calm. She looks up at him, though, and she can tell it's all an act.
“You're absolutely sure?” His voice is at a high pitch, and louder than before. He sits back down, his hands gripping at her blankets so hard that his arms are shaking.
Poppy throws up her arms, her heart beating hard against her chest. “Of course I'm sure! I was a virgin before you, and you broke my heart so there was no one after you!” She lets out a quivering sob and falls back down onto the bed, tucking her face into the pillow. Her body quakes as she sobs, her knees coming up to her chest.
Max moves closer to her, instinctively feeling the need to comfort her. He caresses her arm, softly nurturing her. “Poppy, I'm sorry. I'm just scared. But I don't want to abandon you. I'll take care of you.”
Poppy doesn't move away from her pillow, but her sobs stop. She doesn't believe him, really. Max can't be trusted with anything, but what choice does she have?
“I don't want your help if you aren't serious about this.”
“Why wouldn't I be serious?” Max asks, hurt.
Poppy sits up, holding her breath until she just can't anymore, and then shakes her head. “How much are you willing to do?”
“I know I can help you with money! And I'll help you with the doctors and support you while you're on maternity leave. I don't really know much about babies,” he pauses, then shrugs. His shoulders slump over, heavy with fear and depression. “But I'll do what I can, and I'll learn.”
That's all I can really ask of him. Poppy nods. “Then let's do that. We'll work together.”
7
Ten in the morning coffee run. Charlotte's mom said not to drink any caffeine, but there's no chance in hell that's happening. Charlotte shakes her head with a smile.
Even though having life growing within her terrifies her, it also feels empowering. She created life, and she will care for that life to the best of her ability. She might not give up coffee, but she will add more vegetables and fruit.
Pulling out her laptop, Charlotte plugs it into the Starbucks wall and opens it up. Studying is hard when she feels nauseous all the time, but the coffee helps her stomach settle, and she can't just quit her classes in the middle of a semester.
The dull hum of voices and blenders keeps Charlotte focused on her work until a woman walks in and almost immediately stumbles over, falling to her hands and knees next to Charlotte's table.
She has red hair up in a high ponytail and skin as pale as ivory. Her green eyes flick up, her mouth in an 'O' of surprise.
“Sorry about that! I'm so clumsy–oh, hey Charlotte!”
Poppy has never been one of Charlotte's friends, but Charlotte is too kindhearted to ignore her. It's not as if Poppy is rude; she's not serious enough to be a positive force in Charlotte's life.
“Hey! Long time no see!” Charlotte flips her hair behind her shoulder and leans over to help the hapless girl up.
“Yeah! Hey, we should catch up! I'll go grab a coffee, I'll be right back!”
Before Charlotte can turn her down, Poppy dashes off with a stupid smile that grates on Charlotte's nerves. She sighs and saves her notes before shutting her computer, her leg jumping impatiently as the blender mixes together Poppy's frozen coffee.
The couple at the table next to Charlotte get up and leave as Poppy comes back. “So! What's new? How's the lawyer life treating you?”
“Oh, you know,” Charlotte says, her voice lazy. “Lots of classes, lots of stress.” Even more now that she's pregnant, at that. “How about you? Still waitressing?”
Poppy takes a sip of her coffee and nods. “Yep! You know, it's not too bad most of the time.” Charlotte notices that Poppy has a glow to her, something Charlotte can't put her finger on.
“Hey, you look good. Did you get your hair done? Or, wait, I know! You met a boy!”
The blood drains from Poppy's face and her eyes go wide. She shakes her head. “No, no! I didn't. I guess I've just had a lot going on in my life.” Poppy suddenly realizes how bad of an idea it was to come talk to Charlotte. Her stomach twists and she knows she's going to be sick.
“Oh, you suddenly don't look so great. Are you okay?”
“Yeah just...” Poppy covers her mouth and gags, standing up. “Just suddenly sick!” She runs toward the bathroom as fast as her small legs will let her, Charlotte watching her the whole way. Her eyes narrow as the faint sound of her retching carries out into the cafe. She knows exactly what that is.
Turning back around, her shoulders stiffen and raise as she grows more agitated. Her heart is beating at her chest. Poppy comes back out and takes her frozen coffee, turning toward the door. “I need to-” she starts, but Charlotte cuts her off.
“So, what's up with that? Morning sickness?”
The words knock the air right out of Poppy. She has to sit back down, clutching the back of the chair to keep her from falling out of it. She didn't expect to tell anyone else for a while yet. “Yeah. It really sucks.”
Charlotte nods, sipping at her still warm coffee. “Do you know who the dad is?” She raises her eyebrows, trying to look innocent in asking. Something in her, some instinct, tells her she knows who the father is.
Poppy nods, but doesn't say anything. She opens her mouth a few times to speak, but no words come out, until finally she blurts out all at once: “Max is the father!”
Charlotte nods and forces the corners of her lips to smile. “Well, I hope you two will be happy!” This solidifies her own plan for the little one growing inside of her. There's no way in hell someone as toxic and irresponsible as Max will raise the precious life growing within Charlotte.
Poppy slumps forward in relief, shaking her head. “I was so scared...” She says, her voice weak and shaking. “I was so scared that you would hate me.”
Charlotte stands up now, gathering her laptop and putting it gently into her bag. Her every movement is deliberate. Poppy shouldn't suffer for Max's sins. “Now, why would I hate you for getting pregnant? I'm pregnant, too.” She stops and sniffs back a tear of indignation before smiling wider. “You'll be a great mother. Good luck.”
With that, Charlotte pushes past a group of people coming into the cafe and leaves Poppy to her thoughts. When she's calmed down, Poppy leaves too. She throws away her coffee, even though she barely drank it, and heads to the park to mull things over. It's her day off, so she can do what she wants, and right now she needs to be away from those pregnancy tests back at her apartment.
Max left her with hope in her heart, but now she's faltering. Could Max really be a good father to her baby? She has her doubts, and they're well founded.
And the way that Charlotte stormed off... could Max be the father of her baby as well? Poppy shakes her head and leans against an old Oak tree, a squirrel skittering above her. No, that's ridiculous. Charlot
te would have said something.
A small chime comes from Poppy's pocket. She takes her phone out and thumbs it awake. A text from her mother, asking for Poppy to call. A knot forms in her stomach and her throat goes dry.
Now or never, Poppy.
Swiping her mother's name, the phone rings three times before an old, cracking voice comes on the line. “Poppy?”
“Hey, Mom. How are you doing?”
“You know, good as I'll ever be. How's your new apartment?”
Poppy grimaces. “It's bigger than the old one. I hope you'll come up and see it soon.”
“Maybe, maybe. Hey, I was wondering if you could wire me down some money. I'm a couple hundred short again.”
“Again?” Poppy whispers, anger bubbling in her veins. “How much of that did you waste on liquor, Mom?”
The voice on the other end grunts. “Don't chastise me.”
Sighing, Poppy slumps over. “Mom, listen, I can't lend you money anymore.”
“What?! Why not?”
“Mom, I'm pregnant. I have a lot of expenses now. Diapers, and I have to see a doctor tomorrow.”
Poppy's mother sighs and sniffles. “I can't believe my own daughter would be this selfish, after everything I've done for her. Have I really been such a terrible mother?”
Anger and guilt swirl in her stomach. Her mother has always tried to use her like this; she even stole money from her, when she had been saving up to go to college. That's why she moved out in the first place.
“Mom, please,” Poppy begs.
“No, don't worry about it. I'll figure it out all by myself, as usual. Thanks for nothing.”
There's a click, and then the line goes silent. Poppy's head drops into her chest, her eyes shut so tightly that they hurt. She wants to scream, or at least to drink! But her only coping mechanism is now totally off limits for her.
Poppy wishes she could call her dad, but he's in Europe touring with a client and rarely has his cell phone on. He's always been gone, leaving her with her mom, but Poppy doesn't hold that against him. However bad her mother treated Poppy, she always treated her husband ten times worse.
Taking in a deep breath, Poppy holds it, and then slowly lets it out through her mouth. Across the field a dog fetches a ball and barks so loudly that Poppy's already painful head throbs.
She looks around. There's nothing really for her to do, but she doesn't want to go home. She sets out on the sidewalk, heading towards the road. As her foot hits the pavement, though, she bursts into tears so suddenly that she gasps, clasping her hands to her mouth.
Why does my life have to be so messed up?!
Denying herself the urge to fall over and cry until the tears won't come any more, she presses on–walking fast so that she can feel a burn in her legs that distracts her. Soon, her tears dry and she slows down, looking through the windows of the shops on First Street.
This is where Poppy first met Max. Her mom was taking her shoe shopping, but insisting every pair that Poppy liked was too expensive or too flashy. They were on their way to the Goodwill when Poppy turned around to watch a dog pass by and suddenly felt herself slam against something.
“Oof!”
The voice was a boy's. Back then he had blonde hair, but his eyes were the same beautiful green color. He was nursing the spot where the back of his head hit a metal trash can.
Instead of apologizing, Poppy stood and watched him, terrified of being yelled at. Just as Poppy's mom turned around, Max stood up and laughed. “Sorry for being in your way! Were you looking at my dog?”
Relieved, Poppy's lips tugged into a tight smile. “Yeah, he was cute!”
“Thanks! You should come over some time and play with him!”
Poppy's heart starts thumping against her chest as she remembers the way he leaned in and whispered his name to her before her mom pulled her away, never to see him again... until the first day of school.
At that moment, that very first moment, she knew she loved him. There were other boys who caught her attention during high school, but no one held it as long as Max did. He stood up for her when people mocked her clothing, and even took her to prom, even though it hurt Charlotte. He paid for her dress and the flowers and their dinner, always looking after her, dancing with her as often as he danced with Charlotte. He laughed when she stepped on his toes, and drove her home instead of heading to Charlotte's house for an after party.
Max has always been her knight in shining armor. Now, though, he's a distraction, almost a burden.
On the corner of First and Washington Street, Poppy looks up from the broken sidewalk slabs and notices, maybe for the first time, a short white building with blacked out glass. There's the remnants of red paint and some litter around the building, unusual for the city that prides itself on its upkeep.
It's a family planning clinic. Poppy's stomach flips and lodges itself firmly in her throat. She could end all this pain now, just by walking into that clinic. No more worry. No more stress. She can probably go to a club tonight and drink the pain away.
The light changes and her legs carry her to the building, but her mind is blank. She's going through the steps on autopilot. She doesn't regain control until she steps into the building, greeted by a chubby black woman at the receptionist's desk.
“Yes, dear? Do you have an appointment?”
Poppy gulps down her fear and walks over to the woman, admiring her beautiful black eyes for a moment. She leans in and whispers, “I'd like to schedule an abortion.”
8
Max is snoozing on Poppy's beaten old couch when he hears the door slam. He jolts up, jumping over the side of the couch before making it look like he was tidying up.
Poppy stops when she sees him rifling through her mail. “Were you napping?”
Max rubs the back of his head and grins. “Yeah, I was. Sorry.”
“That's fine. You don't need to tidy up for me.” She chuckles, though it's obvious from the dark look on her face that she isn't in a laughing mood. “You don't need to pretend, either.”
Max lets the letters in his hands fall back onto the small table and leans back, stretching his spine. “So where were you? You said you were only going out for a second.”
“I went out to get a coffee. Sorry if I worried you.”
“I was too busy dreaming to be worried. Plus, I know you can take care of yourself.”
Poppy frowns, but Max doesn't catch the look. If only he knew how wrong he was. If it weren't for his damned face and their past, she'd tell him to take a hike.
There's so much she has to tell him, but she doesn't want to tell him any of it. Not about her mom, nor Charlotte, nor the clinic. Thinking about them makes her throbbing head spin. Placing a protective arm over her stomach, she uses her other hand to rub her temple. “I think I'm going to go lay down.”
His thick eyebrows stitch together with worry. “Are you okay? Do you need me to get you anything?”
Guilt runs through her, but she just shakes her head. “No, I just want to lay down.” He doesn't listen to her, though, and follows her into her bedroom. Max watches her climb up into her tall bed and pull her blanket over herself.
“Are you sure?”
“Max, please!” She snaps. Turning her back to him, she tries to shut her eyes but his presence in the room distracts her. She'll say anything to get him away from her. “I saw Charlotte while I was out.” She regrets the words the second they leave her lips.
Max freezes, his shoulders stiff. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” She sets her purse down. “She's pregnant, Max.”
Max feels the whole world shake around him, a sudden wave of fear threatening to conquer him. His knees give out and he collapses, doubled over, with a gurgle. Poppy turns to look at him, examining him, his behavior confirming her fears. “Is it yours?”
He's rocking back and forth. “Probably.”
“Probably?! Jesus, Max, don't you think you could keep it in your pants? What was I, sloppy seconds?”<
br />
Max winces. “Poppy, I'm sorry!”
Poppy slides off of the bed and stomps up to him, nudging him with her foot until he stands up. “You're sorry? Get the fuck out of my apartment! You're not welcome here anymore!”
“Wait-” The panic on his face only makes Poppy angrier.
“No!” She pushes him out of her bedroom, slamming the door shut. “Get out!”
Max stares at the door for a second, clutching his chest. He thought it was scary enough to be the father of one child–now he might have two on the way?
Then again, maybe Charlotte dumped him because he had some other man. Max grabs his keys and leaves Poppy's apartment, heading towards Charlotte's house. He needs answers.
Mr. Spencer is outside pulling weeds in his rose bed when he sees Max's Lamborghini pull up in the street. He sighs, wiping his dirt covered hands on his sweat pants and throwing his straw hat onto the ground.
“You need to leave!” He says, pointing to Max as he gets out of his car. The boy looks terrified and stressed, a look Mr. Spencer has never seen on his face before. He's too angry to look for an explanation.
Max stands a good foot taller than the Indian man. Mr. Spencer always has had an issue with Max, and since he and Charlotte broke up it's been even worse. It's hard to believe that Max once convinced his own father to help Mr. Spencer pay for a trip to India after his business fell to pieces during the recession.
“I need to talk to Charlotte.” Max's voice is deep and gruff. He sounds angry, even dangerous. Mr. Spencer's hesitation tells him he won't be stopped; he pushes past the shorter man and up the long driveway.
On the porch, Charlotte's dog Fifi starts yapping away at him. She's been trained to stay within 15 feet of the house so she watches him, her buggy Chihuahua eyes glaring a warning to him.
“Fifi, shut up!” Charlotte's voice calls from inside the house. She comes out, wearing a white sun dress and flip flops, holding gardening clippers in one hand and an iced tea in the other. Her hair is braided down her back, the loose twists falling out and sticking to her. When she sees Max at her door, she stops dead in her tracks. “Oh.”
