“I just realized I’m three days late.”
Her pretty face morphs into that of concern.
“Three?”
“Yeah, but it’s fine, Last month, I was late a day or so, three is no big deal.” I wave it off, loop my arm in hers and drag her forward. Don’t want to block foot traffic.
“Three days is kind of late, Rube.” Her voice is laced with worry.
“Nah.”
Understanding dawns on her face and I wince. “Whoa,” she draws out the word.
I don’t reply.
“Ruby, when did you and Mason stop having sex?” And there it is. She stumbles. “Rubes, if you’re pregnant, whose baby is it?”
“Shhhh,” I hiss. “You watch your mouth, girl. There are people around.”
She whispers now, “For real though, Ruby, who’d be your baby’s daddy?”
“Stop it. I don’t know. I’m not pregnant, just late,” I reply in a hiss. “I bet I’m starting as we speak, I’m feeling some menstrual cramps coming on.” No joke, they are showing up just in time to stop the panic from rising in my chest.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ll probably have to buy more tampons tomorrow when I go grocery shopping.”
“That or a pregnancy test.”
I glare at her.
“What? Just saying, if you aren’t starting your period, you need to take a test.”
I just nod in agreement. We are quiet the rest of the walk to my apartment.
As the elevator doors slide closed and we’ve begun our ascent to my floor, she turns and looks at me. “What are you going to do if you’re pregnant, Ruby?”
I fight back the tears in my throat, shake my head and tell her the truth. “I don’t know.”
~~~
So, I didn’t start my period the other day. And I didn’t start it yesterday before or after we went dress shopping. So now, Sunday morning, I’m sitting on the living room couch, nervously waiting for Bernie to show up.
Gia spent the night at Simon’s. And I turned down a date with Link last night. I used the excuse that I think I’m getting sick and just wanted to sleep. He wanted to come over anyway, but I told him I needed a night to myself without distractions. He thought his ego was being stroked with that comment, about him and his “ego” being a distraction. But in reality, I didn’t want him to know something was off. And the last thing I wanted to do was tell him why I was off my game.
True to my word, I was in bed by eight. I tried to watch a cute Netflix movie about personal assistants, starring one of my favorite nerdy actresses, but I fell asleep five minutes in. Then, I tossed and turned all night.
Mostly, I thought about the two-pack of pregnancy tests that Bernie slipped in my purse yesterday morning when we arrived at the boutique to find our bridesmaid dresses.
So, this morning, when the clock hit six, I finally gave up on falling back asleep. Instead, I paced my bedroom for nearly an hour trying to muster the courage to take the test.
Finally, I made it to the bathroom, read the instructions front to back no less than five times before peeing on the damn stick. I set it on the counter — yes, I realize that’s gross — and promptly scurried from the bathroom.
My two-minute timer went off twenty minutes ago when I texted Bernie and told her I needed her to come over.
A soft knock comes from the front door and I jump up and pretty much run to let her in.
“Hey, sorry, I got here as quickly as possible,” she says as she walks in past me. She’s wearing a pair of Deadpool fuzzy PJ bottoms and a red, fitted tank. Her hair is hanging down around her shoulders and she’s still wearing her nerdy-chic, plastic-rimmed glasses.
“I’m sorry I woke you up so early.”
“Nope, don’t apologize. It’s what I’m here for. I just wish we lived closer.”
I lead her back to my room.
“So, I take it you haven’t looked at the results yet,” she says, sitting down on my bed. “Since you are pacing and biting your nails.”
I stop at once and drop my hand away from my face.
“No, the stick is still in the bathroom.”
“And Gia could come home any time, and she might bring Simon and the last thing you need is your pregnancy test still sitting there in your shared bathroom.” She has a point.
“It’s on the counter, that would probably freak them out, yeah?” I try to laugh, but it comes out on the hint of a sob.
Bernie’s face scrunches. “The counter?”
“Yeah.”
“You peed on it. What’s its proximity to your toothbrush?” she asks.
I roll my eyes. “Look, I wasn’t thinking about anything other than getting out of there as quickly as possible. I’ll disinfect the counter.”
“Do you want me to go get it?”
I nod vigorously.
“Do you want me to look at it first? Or just bring it out?”
“Look at it first, before you get out here, because I’ll be too focused on your face if I watch you read the results.”
She gives me a kind smile and says okay, gets up from my bed and walks down the hall to the bathroom.
I fall onto my bed and start biting my thumb nail again.
She’s gone only a few seconds before she walks back into the room. I scan her face, but I can’t read her. It does nothing to ebb my anxiety.
“So? Just pull off the Band-Aid once and for all,” I tell her. My heart is pounding. She smiles at me, but it’s not a smile of happiness. The smile is full of sympathy. But is that sympathy for my current state of mind, or sympathy for my impending news that my life is about to change forever?
Then, right there, I can read her expression seamlessly. My heart slows and my eyes blur when her face fills with sympathy.
“It’s positive. You’re pregnant.”
I nod, and tears start to fall because I knew. I knew I was. I just didn’t want to face the music.
She sits down next to me, puts her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. I sniff and cry silent tears.
“You’ve been exhausted.”
I nod.
“You’ve also been eating like a teenage boy.”
I nod. More tears roll down my face.
“Have you had any morning sickness?”
I shake my head, thank goodness. I slowly pull away from her, wiping my face with my fingers. She jumps up and grabs the tissue box from my desk.
I get control of myself as she waits patiently. Once I’m done, I turn to her.
“I’m twenty-five. I’m in a brand-new relationship, one that came right on the heels of a bad one. I’m less than ninety days into a new job. And I’m pregnant,” I state, proud of myself for not losing it once as I was putting it all out in the world to hear. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to call the doctor tomorrow, set up an appointment. You’re going to tell Link. It’s going to be a surprise, but he’ll handle it. He’s crazy about you. Then you’re going to do everything you need to do to prepare for a baby. You’ve got one hell of a support team at your side.”
Suddenly, I remember. “No, the wedding! How am I going to help Morgan plan her wedding while I’m dealing with,” I wave a hand toward my stomach, “this?”
“Ruby, like there has never been a pregnant bridesmaid before, come on,” she scoffs.
“You’re right,” I concede.
“Just take it all in. Take the day, mentally wrap your head around this. It’s big. You’re going to have a baby.” Her face morphs into the typical girl face when thinking and talking about babies, her face is beaming.
A baby.
I’m going to have a baby.
I’ve always wanted kids. Someday. Like, when I’m thirty, maybe.
I’d always pictured myself married, though. Link and I have been dating for all of two weeks. Yeah, I’ve known him for two years, but two weeks is an awfully short time together to spring this kind of news on a guy.
“Hey! Gu
ess what? I’m having a baby!” I picture myself saying, then following it up with, “And it might not be yours!”
I feel the tears building.
“I think I’m going to lie down,” I tell Bernie before I curl up in my bed and start to cry again.
Chapter Nineteen
Ruby
Last night, I ended up calling the office, to leave a voice mail for my boss, and shooting him an email telling him I was taking a sick day. While I know pregnancy isn’t an illness, when it catches you off guard and your life is suddenly turned upside down, it can feel like it. I’ve stayed in bed all morning. I have no appetite. I don’t know if it’s how I’m taking the news or if it’s a pregnancy symptom. I made a quick detour to the kitchen on my way to the bathroom, about an hour or so ago and grabbed a sleeve of crackers and have managed to eat a few.
But here I lay, a little after ten in the morning, in Wonder Woman fleece pants and a black tank, snuggled under my down-filled comforter. My TV is on but I’m not paying attention to it. It’s background noise.
No, I’ve got my iPad propped up next to me and I’m Googling.
Googling everything there is to know about being pregnant. I make a list of all the books I need to read. I’ll have to stop by the bookstore on my way home tomorrow.
I created an account at a popular baby site that Google loves directing me to and seems to have a lot of doctor supported information.
Even though I always imagined I’d have kids someday, I don’t really know anything about them. I don’t have any in my life. None of my friends have kids and I just don’t know much about this next stage in my life.
But I do know I need to start by setting up an appointment. Releasing a deep breath, I find my doctor’s number in my contacts and place the call. Five minutes later, I’ve got an appointment for three weeks from now. Wow, I was thinking it would be more immediate, but I guess not.
I’m staring up at the popcorn speckled ceiling, trying to make out images from the spackle, when my phone, that I'm clutching to my chest vibrates. I startle and briefly wonder how long I’ve been lost in thought. Lifting my phone, I see a text from Link, and even in my sad and sorry state, I can’t stop the smile that forms.
Link: Should I be worried that you might be ghosting me?
Me: I would be if I were you.
Link: The fact that you said that proves that you aren’t. Ghosting someone is no joking matter.
Me: I only speak the truth.
Link: How’s work today? Busy? Do I recall you mentioning that you needed my expertise on something important?
Me: I took a sick day
Not even a second goes by and he’s calling me.
I groan, not because I don’t want to talk to him. I love talking to him. But because I don’t want to lie to him. And I’m not ready to tell him and I’m not doing it over the phone. I stare at his sexy face on my screen longer than necessary, but I answer anyway.
“Hello?”
“Rubes, are you really sick or taking a mental health day?”
Chuckling, I tell him the truth, “Both.”
“Explain, Lois Lane.”
“I’m just not feeling great and my brain wasn’t really in working condition today.” Also true.
“Okay, well, I’ve got a mega-ton of shit to work on today, but I’m going to send over lunch. What do you want?”
“You don’t have to, really. I’m not even hungry.”
“Nope. When your girlfriend is sick, you take care of her. It’s Boyfriend 101.” My heart does a little back flip because he so stinking sweet to me and I had no idea it would be this way.
“Oh, so there’s a handbook?”
“Duh,” he says dramatically. “Now, what do you want?”
“Something healthy, probably?” I say but really, I’m asking. Am I allowed to eat junk and unhealthy stuff when I’m pregnant?
“You don’t know? How about a sandwich?” he offers. That sounds so good, but then I remember seeing a list of foods not to eat and cold lunchmeat, along with sushi and soft cheeses were on it and that was almost enough to make me weep.
“No, what about soup?” That sounds good. I’m not really hungry and it will be light.
“How about some Pho?”
“That sounds perfect.”
“I’ll have it delivered around noon. I’ll get all my stuff done and then I'm coming over for dinner.”
“No, you don’t have to,” I say. I’m not ready. But I also have an overwhelming need to bury my face in his chest and escape reality just a bit longer.
“No can do, dollface.”
I roll my eyes though he can’t see me but chuckle. “Dollface?”
“Yeah, I’m not sure I liked it either. I’m trying out some new pet names. We’ll try some out tonight over dinner.”
Sighing, I give in. “All right, see you tonight. I’ll be here. Probably still in my pjs. But I’ll brush my teeth.”
“Good idea, I’ll brush mine too and we can check to see whose mouth tastes better.”
“Bye, Link,” I say through a laugh.
“Laters, Baby.”
“Ew. No. We are not going all Fifty Shades.”
“Yeah, I’m not really into red rooms of pain either.”
Sighing, we say good-bye and I try to focus on the TV this time.
After what seems like only minutes later, I hear a thump and then another. I must have fallen asleep. I look at the phone and it’s noon on the dot. What I thought was a thump, I realize when I hear it again, is actually a knock at the door.
Must be lunch.
As I walk through our small apartment, I realize that now I’m finally kind of hungry.
I open the door and am surprised to see Bernie. She has a bag from a popular nearby Vietnamese takeout place in her hand.
“Lunch delivery.”
“Wasn’t expecting a familiar face but I won’t complain,” I tell her as she walks in and goes right for the high-top table in our tiny dining area.
“When I asked Link if he wanted to join us on our lunch break, he said he couldn’t but asked if I would bring you something to eat. Considering that I’ve been thinking about you since I left yesterday afternoon, I jumped at the chance.” She places the bag carefully on the table and lifts the to-go bowls out of the bag. I slide into the chair because I have no energy. Great, what a wonderful symptom. I hope it doesn’t last for the whole nine months.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the steam and aroma of the best chicken noodle soup known to man. We sit in silence for a few moments.
“You’ve got to tell him sooner rather than later,” Bernie blurts out.
“I know.” I sigh.
“Like, soon. Tonight.”
“I’m not ready to tell him yet.”
“You can’t lie to him and pretend everything is fine.” She sets her spoon down next to her bowl, giving me her full attention. “Your relationship is so new and you two are so right for each other. Don’t start things off with lies. It’s going to be hard, I get it, and no matter what, I’m here for you. But he needs to know, now.”
My newly emerged appetite is gone, and I put down my spoon as well. I hold my head in my hand and lean my elbow on the table.
“I know. I don’t want to lie to him. I’m not going to. Just because I’m not ready to tell him doesn’t mean I’m not going to. He’s coming over tonight. I’ll tell him then.”
She nods. “Okay, good. Sorry. It’s just been weighing on my mind.”
“I get it, Link’s your homeboy.”
She snorts. I smile at her.
“Link just cares a lot about you and I don’t want to see him hurt.”
My smile falls. “Bern, you know I’m going to give him an out, right? This is big. And neither of us is ready to be a parent. He didn’t ask for this.”
Her forehead creases in confusion. “You didn’t ask for it either. You are in it together. Link might be childish, immature and way too full of himself, but he�
��s a really good guy. He will do the right thing.”
“Did you forget that it might not be Link’s?” I whisper.
“No, I didn’t forget. But I don’t think it matters. And, so help me, you better not give that lord of the douche an out. You make his sorry ass support his kid no matter what.”
I just nod, push away from the table and clear away my food and trash. What a mess I’ve gotten myself in.
Fortunately, Bernie changes the subject. She watches part of the mid-day newscast with me. I’m kind of irked because I’ve always been a fan of NBC, but I can’t watch that news station anymore since I don’t want to see Mason every day. So, I’ve had to switch stations and, well, it’s been an adjustment. Trust me. It’s a thing.
Eventually she says goodbye, and I head back to my cozy bed. Gia is out and about today. Honestly, I don’t know where. She probably thinks I’m truly sick and doesn’t want to get sick herself. I probably won’t see her for a couple of days.
I crawl back into bed and take another nap. Not going to lie, I miss naps. I’ve always thought there are only two times in your life when you can get away with napping. When you're a kid, and when you’re in college. Napping is the key to surviving college, and once you hit the real world, there just isn’t much time. So, I guess there is a third time when napping is acceptable: when you’ve got a bun in the oven.
Hours later, I’m still in my pjs, but I’ve brushed my teeth and hair, and migrated to the couch. I’ve got the oven preheated for a frozen pizza. Fancy, I know.
It’s barely past six when Link arrives. He’s not fazed by the state of my person. No, he acts like he’s seen me this dressed down before, and I’m almost positive that he hasn’t. But I’m going to roll with it.
Turns out, Link Witt is a helluva boyfriend.
He immediately snags my legs up over his lap after leaning in and kissing my cheek.
“I’m not contagious.” I give a halfhearted laugh.
“I know, but I wasn’t sure if you brushed your teeth.” He grins devilishly.
“I did! And I brushed my hair, can’t you tell?”
“It’s piled up on your head. I appreciate the effort, Rubes.”
“You didn’t happen to see my roommate around today did you?” I ask.
Game All Night Page 14
