Mare Moody - [blank]

"Thank you so much," I say breathlessly.

She nods her head, grabs a paper toilet and wipes off the blue goo. I pull my shirt down and sit up.

"I'll print some of those out for you, if you'd like."

"Yes, please!" I never realized I could get this excited.

She chuckles, pushes a button and two pictures push out of the side. She hands them to me gently. I hold them and my smile doesn't falter for a second.

"Well, we are done here." She grins.

She stands up, presses a few buttons on the machine then walks out. I stand up and begin to walk out with Tabitha.

"I can't believe I'm going to have a son."

"I can't either."

They bumping of the taxi cab makes my heart flutter more. I hold the pictures in my hand. The glossy pigments show me my future. It isn't blank. It is filled with color and hope.

"He's a big boy." Tabitha looks over my shoulder. "Margaret was much smaller."

I laugh. My belly is going to be huge by the end of this if he really is a big baby.

"Are you going to call Noah?" Tabitha berates yet again. I sigh deeply. My son has been washing away any of my actual problems but now I realize that part of his existence is my biggest problem.

"I don't know." I want to but I want to protect him.

"Seriously, do it," she says. "This little boy needs his dad."

I wish it was that simple. I agree that he needs his dad but I also know that neither are well suited—and one might be dead before he is born. I shudder. I can't think about that. But I can push it off. I can make it ok. Right? Am I willing to run the risk of him seeing his son or him never seeing his child and still being harmed. Although I don't want to think of the obvious answer, it's so much easier to ignore my problems rather than face them head on. But no. Right now I need to. I feel a rush of confidence come over me. I need to.

"Ok," I sigh. "I will."

The taxi comes to a stop and I step out. My balance has gone to shit. I never thought I'd feel my drunk legs unless I had chugged liquor. Now I know that I can just by getting knocked up. I walk into the house. The warmth of the house proves just how cold it has become outside. I know that this will be a bitter winter. I just want the summer back. It was just here and now it is leaving, freezing all water in its tracks. The TV blares out of the great room. Mark plays with Margaret, a huge smile on his face. She carries around a wooden book that is almost as big as she. He sits on the floor, attempting to be at eye level with her even though she stands up straight.I grip my pictures. That is coming soon.

"How did it go?" He turns around and beams at Tabitha.

"Great!" I say enthused. I walk over and hand them to him.

He puts both side to side. He moves them around curiously, while moving his head from side to side.

"Look at that cute… potato?" He jokes. He chuckles and hands them back to me.

"It's a boy." My teeth show through my smile. This never happens. My smile has taken over my face.

I look down at them again. I gaze longingly. I didn't want a baby when I first got pregnant but now I want him more than anything. I peel my eyes off them and look back at Margaret but I met with something entirely different. A woman sits on the couch. She has a very round belly and looks thoroughly exhausted. A long, pink sheer robe falls from her shoulders, her hair is messy and wavy as always. She looks at me and smiles. My mother. Her hand rubs her abdomen. She closes her eyes lets the euphoria wash over her. She looks so fulfilled.

"Over in Killarney, many years ago." My breath catches in my throat. I remember.

"My mother sang a song to me," She rocks gently back and forth to the tone.

"in tones so sweet and low," Her beautiful voice rings through me.

"Just a simple little ditty," She chuckles, "in her good old Irish way."

"And I'd give the world if she could sing," I close my eyes and listen.

"that song to me this day."

She stops but I don't want this to end. I walk to the couch and sit next to her. I hold my belly gently, softly touching my baby. I feel the song form itself in my throat.

"Oft in dreams I wander," my voice fills the room, "to that cot again."

"I feel her arms a-huggin me." I haven't sang since she left but now that she is here, I know I can again.

"As when she held me then." My smile can heard through my song.

"And I hear her voice a-hummin'," I look at her. She listen to me with tears in her eyes.

"to me as in the days of yore," I feel so at peace that I could keep singing until I grew sore.

"when she used to rock me fast asleep," Even then I would still sing some more.

"outside the cabin door." The verse ends and sadness fills my heart. I don't this to end.

A tear runs down her cheek, as if like clockwork, one runs down my cheek in exact tandem.

"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li," Her voice burst forth again, "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry."

The tears multiply. She rubs her stomach gently as her face grows wet as mine. I reach out to wipe the tear from her cheek but my hand passes through her. I feel the air surround it, I break down. She vanishes with my touch. My mother loves this child as much as I do. She loves me as much I love him. That was the most real experience I have ever experienced.

"That was beautiful, Ana," Tabitha says to me. She heard me. I blush, I got completely taken over by the experience that I totally forgot that life was a tangible ideal and that I was still part of it.

"Thanks," I say, my cheeks red as her robe.

Margaret watches me, her eyes fixed on my face. She sits completely still, entranced. I smile. I lean over and kiss her on the forehead.

"I love you, bug."

Tabitha is looking at me intently.

"You need to call him."

"I know."

I nervously hold the phone. I could dial his number so easily. Just a few twitches of my finger. I can't. The pictures of our son lie next to me on my bed. I feel like a little school girl. I lie in a lilac bedroom, with a phone in my hand, unable to call the boy. I feel the courage build in my stomach. I need to do this for my son. He needs to know at least one of his fathers know about him and loved him. I need to give him that. He deserves it more than either of them. I hold my breath and punch in the numbers with numb fingers. Each beep taunts me for the decision I am making right now. I hit 'call' and the dial begins. I wonder if Kane has tapped into this phone yet. I don't know what he is capable of but judging by his anger, he will do very fucked up things to get me back in his bed. The phone clicks.

"Hello?" I hear his voice and anxiety pours over me. Shit. I don't know what to say. He probably hates me. This could lead to his death. I need to show him his son. "Hello?"

"Hi." I finally speak. There is a moment of silence. I wish I could see his expression, then I could judge what kind of silence it is. Is it anger, sadness, or relief? My leg begins to shake.

"Um," he stammers. "Why did you call?"

"I had an ultrasound." I say straightforward. I need to get the information out so that this call ends sooner than later. But I love hearing his voice. There is a certain calmness to it. More silence. "I didn't know if maybe you wanted to see the pictures?"

I hear a sigh on the other end. I don't know what this means but I am scared to.

"When?" He asks. He sounds bitter, as if he is doing this only for me.

"I mean I don't have to." I backpedal.

"No," he calls out. "I want to see them. Really."

"Oh," I say moving forward again. "Can I just drop by now?"

"Yeah," he mutters. His tone is still filled with pain.

"Alright, I'll see you in li—" He cuts me off