by Jen Andrews
I was having a hard time not placing the blame on myself for him leaving. It wasn’t my fault, but if he had proposed to me back in June, who knew what would have happened in the meantime.
Coulda, shoulda, woulda, Zoey. You can’t dwell on it. It is what it is, and you need to fix it.
While the photos were printing, I picked out a frame for the enlargement, a nice photo album, and a packet of colored postcards with decorative borders that would fit in with the pictures I planned to put in the photo album.
Once I left the shop, prints and supplies in hand, I took myself out to lunch. As I picked at my food and looked through the photos, I jotted down a list of songs that were special to us.
At home, later that evening, I arranged the photos in the album by date, leaving one slot empty on each page. Then, on the postcards, I printed the lyrics that related best to each group of photos.
On the last page, were the photos taken just minutes after Andy proposed. My favorite photo, the one we had sent to everyone in a text announcing our engagement, was placed next to a postcard with my handwritten note:
I wrapped the album with the same elegant, black wrapping paper and silver ribbon I’d wrapped his Valentine’s Day present in months ago then shipped the gift to him in New Zealand.
It would arrive on his birthday, the same day as my doctor’s appointment.
She was right. Zoey was spot on when she called me a coward. How could I have done something so fucking cruel to the person who had brought me back to life?
Before her, I was a shell of the person I once was. Granted, I put on a brave front, but inside, I was still broken. Prior to the accident that killed my family, I was happy. Never wanted for anything, had everything going for me, and because of my cocky attitude from being the top rugby player at school, I had cost them their lives. One instance of retaliation against another player was the reason my family was dead.
I thought I’d moved past blaming myself for their deaths, but apparently, I hadn’t. Again, I was suffering from guilt and held myself responsible for another death.
Zoey and I had worked through the issues between us while she was on vacation months ago. And afterwards, we’d continued to flourish as a couple every day. I never wanted to spend a day without her for the rest of my life. Yet, here I sat, leaning my back against the willow tree where I’d proposed to her just days ago, thinking about what had changed since then.
Emma.
Stinging tears pricked my eyes at just the thought of her name. How could I have had a daughter and not known? Why hadn’t Michelle told me? What a fucking cruel twist of fate that brought my seemingly perfect world crashing down around me.
Emma.
What a sweet name for a little girl who would never call me “Daddy.” A little girl I never saw or knew about until it was far too late. God, what I would have done to see her, to have held her in my arms. Did she look like me? What color were her eyes and hair? How long did she live? Would I ever get to see her? In a picture? After I died? Did she suffer, or go peacefully in her sleep?
All questions that held no answers.
Fuck. What did it matter? She was gone and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. It mattered because she was mine. A part of me, part of my parents and sister. A part of us I could never get back.
Being Kiwi, and in our culture, family was the most important part of your life and you took care of them.
I had failed.
Miserably.
At being a son, brother, husband, fiancé, and apparently, a father. I had also failed Zoey in the worst possible way. By leaving her. When she’d called Aunt Sarah earlier that day and I spoke with her, she’d asked me if I’d forgotten where she came from. The truth was, I had been so caught up in my own grief from finding out about Emma, and then leaving her, that I had forgotten about her adoption.
Her adoptive family took me in as if I was one of their own over the months Zoey and I had been together. Just the way they had when they adopted her. It was like she’d always been a part of them. Not the daughter of a drug addicted mother and an absentee father. She was a James, through and through. And under the tree where I now sat completely destroyed, I had asked her to be my wife, to take my last name.
Later that night, she’d asked me to give her until after we were married to talk seriously about having kids. When those words spilled from her perfect pink lips, my heart thumped so hard in my chest it resonated in my ears and I could barely hear my response to her. She’d said yes to me. She’d said yes to children, just not so soon, but she’d still said yes. I could see it in her eyes, and if I knew Zoey, she wanted children as badly as I did to make up for her horrible childhood and to give me a family. She would have done anything for me, and I, her.
Sadly, none of that would ever happen—because I was a coward. I was scared that something was wrong with me, and I would pass it down to our kids. And since Michelle refused to speak with me, there was no way to know if I was the cause of yet another death. I couldn’t do that to Zoey. She’d already lost one child and I couldn’t let her lose another. She would be better off without me.
Even on the night of Jess and Noah’s wedding, when I’d confessed to her that I was ready for my own family, I could see the hope and love in her eyes when I told her that she was the only one I wanted to have that family with. I knew she hadn’t been ready—she knew, too. But, I’d had to tell her how I felt, and I knew in my heart it was something she would want when the time was right for her.
The sound of an ATV pulling into the clearing interrupted my thoughts of the future I would never have. Hamish stopped the ATV near the willow tree and shut off the motor.
“It’s time to go, son. We need to get on our way to the airport.”
Without saying a word, I stood and walked in a daze to the ATV and took my seat next to Hamish.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do A.J?” he asked after pulling into the garage at the house.
No, it wasn’t what I wanted at all. But what else could I do? Marrying Zoey and having a family with her was what I wanted, but now I knew about Emma. Leaving the States was the only way I could guarantee that I would stay away from Zoey and let her move on—to live the life she deserved. My heart ached at the thought I’d broken hers.
“Hamish, I don’t have a choice,” I said. “Zoey deserves to have everything that I can’t give her.”
“Son, you’re being unreasonable.”
I raised my hand to keep him from going further. “Stop, I’m not your son. My father is dead because of me,” I muttered then got out of the ATV.
At the San Francisco airport, Hamish dropped me off at the curb like I had asked him to because I didn’t want to deal with any difficult goodbyes to him and Sarah.
I stepped up to the ticket counter.
The man behind the counter asked, “How may I help you, sir?”
At that moment, I froze. My mouth wouldn’t open and I just stared at the man. The hand that held my passport and I.D. automatically set them down and pushed them toward him.
“Auckland,” I finally managed to say. “One way, please, on the next flight.” I didn’t have a plan other than to get back to En Zed as quickly as possible.
“Yes, sir.” He picked up my I.D. and passport, then quickly typed on his keyboard. “I’m afraid our coach seating is all booked up until tomorrow. The only seats available on the next flight are first class.” He glanced from the screen to meet my eyes. “That flight leaves in two hours, but is very expensive. Did you want me to get you booked on one of the flights tomorrow?”
I pulled out my wallet, dug behind the cards I frequently used and slipped out the black credit card that I’d never used. “No, I’ll take the first class flight tonight, please. I don’t care what the cost is.”
What good was having the money if I wasn’t going to use it? I handed the card to him.
He looked at it, then back at me. Without asking a question, or telling me the
price, he booked me on a first class, one-way flight back to Auckland.
The flight was comfortable enough, but I was so miserable I couldn’t eat or sleep. Fortunately, I had a seat with nobody close by to bother me. By the time we landed in Auckland, I was an emotional mess. One part of me wanted to go straight over to the ticket counter and buy a ticket back to Zoey, and the other part just wanted to disappear.
When the taxi pulled up in front of the gates at my house, I paid the driver and exited the car. That’s when I realized I didn’t have a key to get inside. Iria’s car was still there so she hadn’t left for work yet, or had the day off. I knocked on my own front door, and a few minutes later, it swung open to reveal my best mate’s very surprised wife.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open at the sight of me.
“A.J.? What are you doing here?”
Taking in a deep breath, I said the only thing I could. “I fucked up.”
I was petrified when the day finally came for my doctor’s appointment so I asked my mom to go with me. When we arrived, the receptionist sent me straight to the lab where they drew some blood and had me pee in a cup.
Afterward, I sat with my mom in the waiting room and fidgeted like crazy until she reached out and rubbed my back to help me relax.
“Zoey, calm down, everything will be fine.”
I sure hoped she was right.
Finally, the nurse called me back. We stopped at the scale to get my weight. I had gained five pounds since the last time I weighed myself. I was one hundred percent certain I’d gained it all in my stomach, because I had a hard time buttoning my shorts that morning. The same pair of shorts, which had been a bit loose the last time I wore them.
After she took my blood pressure and made notes in my chart, the nurse led me into an office and asked me to sit in a chair, in front of the doctor’s desk. Oh my God. That freaked me out.
She must have noticed. “Do you want me to get your mom, Zoey?” She smiled, kind of like she knew a big secret.
Even though I had already semi-convinced myself of it, I knew right then I was pregnant. I still didn’t understand how it could have happened though.
Holy fucking shit. I nodded and swallowed hard so I wouldn’t throw up.
She left the room and when my mom arrived she asked, “Mija, what’s going on?”
Shaking my head in disbelief, I swallowed again and opened my mouth to speak right as my doctor came in.
“Good morning, Zoey, how are you?” Dr. Stewart sat at her desk and flipped open my chart.
“I will be doing better once you tell me what’s going on,” I replied as the butterflies fluttered around my stomach.
She scanned the papers in front of her for a few seconds and then looked me in the eyes. “Well,” she said, as she looked down at the paper in front of her again. “According to this, you’re pregnant.”
I sucked in a deep breath, held it, then slowly let it out as I squeezed my mom’s hand. I glanced over at her, and she was smiling, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
“I don’t understand how this could happen, Dr. Stewart. I’ve been on the pill for years. I’ve wracked my mind and I know I haven’t missed any.” Jesus, I counted the fuckers ten times just to be sure!
She smiled. “The results don’t lie, Zoey. Why don’t we go into an exam room and do an ultrasound to see how far along you are. That should tell us more and maybe something will jog your memory.”
So many thoughts and emotions flooded through not only my head, but also my entire body while I was alone in the room changing. Pregnant . . . how? In a daze, I perched on the edge of the exam table.
When the doctor and my mom came in, Dr. Stewart asked, “When was the first day of your last period?”
I pulled my tiny day planner out of my purse. I was nothing, if not organized. I already knew my last period had been in May, but I wasn’t sure of the exact date so I flipped through my calendar.
“It was May twenty-second. I switched from the monthly pack to the three-month pill pack then, so I haven’t had my period since.”
She nodded and made notes in my chart. “You’ve already said you didn’t miss any pills. Were you sick or did you have any illnesses where you needed to take antibiotics? They are the most common reason your birth control might fail.”
I shook my head. I hadn’t taken any antibiotics in well over a year, and hadn’t taken any medicine other than ibuprofen for headaches and the pain pills after my accident. But, that was months ago.
“Let’s see what we have going on in here then, Zoey.” She smiled. “Once we can see how far along you are, we should know more.”
She lifted the gown and squirted gel on my lower belly.
“Well, it seems you are already starting to show,” she said, surprised after she saw my stomach. She pressed the wand against me and slid it back and forth through the gel. Dr. Stewart held it still when she had the image she wanted on the screen. She let out a soft laugh. “Let’s get some measurements here. You are definitely further along than I anticipated.”
What the hell?
Dr. Stewart pointed to our baby on the screen and showed Mom and I the tiny head and body. She pressed a few buttons on the machine as she moved the wand around. My brain tried to comprehend everything that was happening as I stared at the screen in disbelief. Andy should have been right there with me to see the life we’d created, but he wasn’t.
Just as the tears formed in my eyes, my mom stood from her chair and wrapped me in her arms, pulling my cheek against her chest. “Baby girl, I know you’re scared and heartbroken, but you’re so strong now. You can do this. I have no doubt in my mind about that. You’re going to be a wonderful mama,” she whispered into my ear.
Hoping she was right, I nodded because I was temporarily rendered speechless. After I wiped away the tears that had escaped, Mom returned to her chair and we focused on the screen again.
“Does everything look normal, Dr. Stewart?” I paused as notions of Andy’s concerns invaded my thoughts. He had previously mentioned DNA and possible issues with his genes causing Emma’s death and I was scared he could be right.
She smiled, reassuring me. “Yes, everything looks perfectly normal. It seems you’re around fourteen weeks based on the measurements I’ve taken.”
Fourteen weeks? Holy fucking shit!
Fourteen weeks? How was it even remotely possible that I was already through my first trimester? Of course, I’d had suspicions that I might be pregnant, but fourteen weeks along?
I felt like a moron because I’d seen too many episodes of that television show about people who didn’t know they were pregnant until they went in to labor. I had obviously misinterpreted several indications from my body.
However, it did explain several incidents that had happened over the last few months. Gagging on my toothbrush, which my mom said happened to her constantly when she was pregnant with Adam, being nauseous, which I just assumed was stress related, feeling dizzy when I moved, on occasion. The extra eating, the increased emotions . . . oh and the tiredness. Every damn day.
Doctor Stewart put the wand away and scooted her rolling stool closer to me, leaving the paused sonogram of our sweet child on the screen. Unable to take my eyes off the machine, I stared in awe at our tiny baby.
I was going to be a mom. Part of Andy and me was growing inside of my body.
At that very second, I knew I’d never been happier in my life. With or without Andy, I wanted and loved that child more than my own life.
“Alright Zoey, it’s time to put your thinking cap on now,” she said as she tapped away on the keyboard of her laptop. “You would’ve had to conceive around June fifth. What did you have going on in your life around that time?”
I stifled a giggle. I was obviously having sex around that time. Jesus, when was I not having sex since that day in Cabo back in February? It was practically a daily occurrence and the reason I’d switched birth control pills.
I flip
ped my calendar to June. I hadn’t marked anything down for June fifth, but there was something for June sixth. Drag races with Andy.
Oh, holy shit . . .
An extremely surprised and shrill laugh erupted from me when I realized I’d gotten knocked up on the hood of Andy’s car during our little tryst in his car trailer.
My mom and doctor stared at me with their eyebrows raised, waiting for me to say something.
Why did the birth control pill fail though? I thought back to Dr. Stewart’s previous question about being sick, and then it dawned on me . . . I had been sick with the flu the week before the drag races, but I hadn’t taken any antibiotics.
Could just being sick cause my birth control to fail?
“I think I remembered something,” I said.
“What is it, Zoey?” Dr. Stewart asked.
Well, I definitely wasn’t going to share the great sex on the car story. “I was really sick with the flu the week before I would have conceived. I threw up for four days straight and actually lost a lot of weight because of it.”
“Sure, I guess that’s possible, Zoey. If you were within the first week or so of your new pill pack and couldn’t keep anything down, it was probably not in your stomach long enough to get into your system and you ovulated.”
Thoughts of Emma passed through my mind suddenly. I was scared and had questions I hoped the doctor could answer. I would accept the information she gave me, and deal with it in whatever way I had to.
“Dr. Stewart, are there any noninvasive tests you can do to check for gene or DNA issues?”
“Is there something in particular you’re concerned about?”
I gave her a brief description of what little we’d learned about Emma.
“Without knowing exactly what was wrong with that baby, we really won’t know what to test for,” she said. “We can run the standard tests of course, but if you can find out what caused the baby’s death, we can do more specific tests.”
