Mare Moody - [blank]

“I think you should go alone,” she says softly.

I look at her. I know I need her support but at the same time, I agree with her. I should be alone.

I walk out by myself and call a cab.

I climb in. I tell her where to go and the car starts moving. I feel like cab rides always make me more anxious. Being in a confined place for so long with nothing to entertain me but my mind causes a lot of mental strain on me.

I close my eyes and lean back my head. I let rest come over my body. I am not asleep but I am not aware of the world around me. Time flies in this state.

The taxi stops and I look out. Here goes nothing.

When I walk back up to his apartment door, a wave of anxiety rushes over me. I could either lose the only other man I have cared about or he could be supportive. There is really no telling which reaction I’ll get. I knock tentatively.

He opens it quickly. He wears the same white shirt I stole from him during our first night together. Part of me finds that ironic but the other part of me wishes he wasn’t wearing that.

“Hey! You are back!” He looks happy and relieved. He has idea what I’m about to tell him.

“I made pancakes!” He says gleefully. He points to a plate that is toppling over with fresh hot stacks.

I smile. He is so sweet it hurts.

“Thank you.” I chuckle. He leans down and kisses me firmly on the lips. I don’t know if this is the last kiss I will get from him. I hope it’s not but I can’t hope for the best outcome. It is out of my nature to.

He opens the door widely and lets me in. I walk passed him and sit on the couch.

I don’t want to tell him in the off chance that it isn’t his baby. I don’t want him to get his hopes up and think he’s having a child when it’s not his baby genetically. It might better if it’s not his though. Maybe if he leaves because he doesn’t want a baby that if I have Kane’s baby, he will come back. I know that logic is so flawed but it at least helps me with a little bit of the anxiety.

“I have to tell you something,” I say.

He walks over to me holding a plate of pancakes and sits on the chair to my left.

“What’s up?” He asks as he sets the plate down on the coffee table.

There is no other way to say it. There is no getting around it. I have to tell him.

He looks at me with surprise written all over his face. I can’t tell his exact emotion. This scares me. My heart is beating in my throat. I have a hard time swallowing. I’m so anxious to know what the outcome of this information being revealed will be.

His face of shock melts and a giant smile materializes on his face. He looks at me and beams. He looks at my stomach and then my face, then back to my stomach.

“Really?” He asks, wide-eyed.

“Yeah, I took a test at Tabitha’s”

“That’s your friend, right? Wow. This is simply amazing!” He is so enthusiastic. I can’t tell him about the possibility of it not being his. I can’t ever tell him. I am just praying now that it won’t be Kane’s.

A weight is lifted off of my shoulders still. I know that my child will at least have the opportunity to have a father. That is still better than the worst case scenario.

He pulls me to my feet and encases me in a hug. I feel so passion in this exchange that I am overwhelmed. Maybe it will be ok. Maybe I can stay in his arms. Forever. What if it is his and we can all be a family together. My mind starts to drift to a happy place. I begin to be infatuated with optimism.

I look up at him and smile. He keeps his arms around me and kisses me on my nose. The smile grows wider.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” I respond. It floats out of my mouth so easily. It is almost automatic. My mouth knows the right answer before my brain does.

He looks at me in shock and happiness. To him, all of his dreams have come true in one day. I don’t how I, Ana, the mental mess of a person, can cause so much happiness in someone.

“So does this mean I can meet your family now?” He asks. At first I think he is joking but as I analyze his face, I realize that he isn’t kidding.

I pull away from the hug and look down. I don’t know how to tell him that I have cut them entirely out of my life.

“I don’t talk to them anymore,” I say.

“None of them?”

“My grandparents and Mom both passed away, my cousins kind of drifted away after they died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says sadly, “what about your Dad?”

“We don’t talk much,” I say this hoping that it will be the end of the conversation.

“Where does he live?” I can see the gears turning in his head.

“In the city,” I say apprehensively.

“Shouldn’t you tell him that you are having a baby?”

“I don’t…” I breathe in, “want to.”

“Can I at least meet him?” He asks hopefully, “I am his grandsons father.”

My argument to this is that he might not be the father but I can’t tell him that. I don’t want him to know the blame that my father put on me when my mother committed suicide.

“I…” I try to find any other excuse. I finally crack, “Fine.”

He gets even more excited. He looks like he just won the argument of his life.

“Yes!” He says triumphantly, “We can invite him over for dinner!”

He says ‘we’ as if we were a married couple who shares this apartment. In my mind, we are simply together but separate.

“Ok,” I say, “can it be tomorrow?”

I haven’t built up my mental stamina to talk to him. I don’t know how he’ll react to my pregnancy. I don’t know if he’ll completely frown on it or grow into the father figure that I have always needed. The main thing that makes me anxious about this pregnancy is not knowing how everyone is going to react. I am walking on thin ice.

“Of course,” he says, “however, that baby needs some food!”

He picks up the plate of pancakes and holds it in front of my face. His stupid grin makes me laugh. He is so excited. My anxiety begins to wash away and I start to feel his excitement. I take the plate from his hands.

“Thank you.” I smile.

He stands up and kisses me on the forehead. He walks back to the kitchen and comes back with a vat of maple syrup. He places the ginormous bottle on the coffee table.

“The best in the state!” He gleams.

I take the bottle and open it. Immediately, the smell nauseates me. My face contorts and I put the bottle down in disgust. He looks at me worried.

“What’s wrong?” He picks the huge bottle up and checks for the expiration date.

“The smell just makes me nauseous,” I say. I feel bad.

“Do you not like maple syrup?” He looks confused.

“I normally love it,” I say, just as confused as him, “I don’t know.”

He takes the bottle and puts it back in the kitchen. He looks hurt but I can tell he isn’t trying to show it. It makes my guiltiness worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says when he walk back. He hands me a fork and sits back down.

“Don’t be,” I say with a smile. I take a bit of my pancake and gleam up at him.

We look at each other and share a moment of bliss. Is bliss real? Or is it a haze we create in our brain to pretend that everything is perfect?

I hold my stomach and rub it gently. Noah is fast asleep besides me. It is just starting to set in that I am going to be a mother. Regardless of the father, I know I have a responsibly to make a good life for this baby. I can’t let my worries get in the way of giving this child the best childhood possible. I also have to set up a fulfilling adulthood for them.