R. Griffin: Seamless

“I haven’t had a decent conversation in two weeks.” He began shoveling food in his mouth.

Kara came back in, her eyes full of concern. “Will, talk to us.” She put her hand on his left hand to comfort him.

“About what, Care Bear?” He put his fork down. “About how the love of my life walked away from me and completely crushed me? About how the media is having a circus with her life? With my life?”

“If that’s what you want to talk about.” Her voice was calm, trying to soothe him.

“I don’t want to talk about that.” He picked up his fork and continued eating.

“Are you working?” John asked.

“Yes. I’ve been in Florida and New Hampshire this week and the fucking primary is like a year away.”

“Watch your language in my house, young man,” his mother snapped.

He hung his head. He shouldn’t have come. This was a very bad idea.

“So you went right back to work after she left?” Kara interrogated.

“Yep.”

“Jessica said you missed several days,” Jack said.

George looked at his sister with a glare.

“Why the fuck are you talking to her?” George roared.

“Willston George Finnegan, if I have to tell you to watch your language one more time, you will finish your meal on the porch.”

“You know what, Mom? I’ve lost my fucking appetite.” He pushed himself from the table with such force the chair scraped the floor with a loud noise that filled the awkward silence. He stalked toward the door.

“Will, we warned you about her.” His mother’s voice froze him in his tracks. “I never liked her and you were going to marry her against my wishes. This is for the best.” Her lips were pursed as if she’d smelled something rancid.

Slowly, he turned to face his family and the anger he’d been keeping at bay for the past weeks exploded. “Oh really, Mother? This is for the best? That the love of my life ripped my fucking heart out? Better that I’m miserable than be associated with her? I’m walking around like a zombie because I don’t know if I want to get her back, but you think this is for the best? The woman who I asked to marry me, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, had someone murdered in front of her and instead of running to me for comfort, she fucking left me. You think that’s best for me?”

“Will, you will not use that tone of voice with me.” His mother’s voice was steely and unforgiving. “It’s what’s best for this family. She was embarrassing and not good enough for you.”

“I know I had to do a lot of explaining at my work about my future sister-in-law,” Jack put in.

George turned his fury toward Jack. “Oh really? Did you tell your coworkers about jacking off to her picture too? Because I’m sure that would have been an interesting conversation.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “You asshole.”

“Oh yeah, I’m the asshole. How about you pay your own fucking mortgage from now on, motherfucker? See how you like that.”

Kelly stood up, her eyes blazing. “You can’t do that, Will. That’s our money.”

“Fuck ‘our money.’ You’ve been sitting on your ass for years. I do everything for you and you can’t even accept my future wife into our family. You know what, fuck all of you…” He wrenched opened the front door and marched down the stairs.

Well, that didn’t turn out like I expected .

Stella and George had talked several times. He was still mad. Their first conversation was harsh. What she remembered most was the tone in George’s voice—he’d given up on her, on them. Stella had thrown herself into her work so she wouldn’t think about the two men that had her tied in knots. Millie was still letting her stay, but she’d looked at a couple of places for herself with Cooper. She was hoping to find a place before Christmas, but that was just a few days away. She’d still been throwing up every day, so obviously the stress and anxiety remained. She’d run out of her stomach medication two months ago and she just hadn’t had time to get back to the doctor. When she finally called, the first appointment available was the Monday after Christmas. Why they couldn’t just call in a fucking refill on her meds, she’d never understand.

Stella was straightening her hair when Millie popped her head in the bathroom.

“At least make an appointment to see that stomach doctor,” Millie reminded her for the billionth time. “The acid in your stomach is eating away at my pipes.”

“That’s fucking disgusting, Millie.” Stella looked at Millie in the mirror. “I got an appointment; they just can’t see me until next week.”

“When I lived in the sorority house, they had to get new pipes because of all the vomiting that went on.”

Stella turned and laughed. “You’re lying.”

“Swear.”

“That’s nasty.” Stella shook her head. “Hopefully you won’t have to get new pipes just because you let me stay here for a few weeks.”

“Should you go to a different doctor sooner, like urgent care or something?”

“No. I think, with all my problems, it’s best if I see my doctor, who’s familiar with my background.” Stella shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to have to take the time to explain my medical history to another doctor.”

Millie turned and walked into the living room to grab her things. “If I didn’t know you couldn’t be pregnant, I’d be making you take a test!” she called as she shut the door.

A spike of fear drove through Stella’s entire body. Then she laughed. Although she hadn’t had her period in a while... Wait . When was the last time she had her period? She couldn’t remember. She wasn’t necessarily regular after she’d gotten out of the hospital, so it didn’t worry her that much. The doctors all told her she wouldn’t be able to get pregnant because of all the surgeries she’d had, but for a minute, her mind responded like it was a possibility and her paranoia about getting pregnant since she started having sex took over. She shook her head, laughing at herself. Impossible.

Stella got her briefcase and got in her car. Shit, now I’m going to keep wondering . She should just get a test and do it for shits and giggles. It’d be negative and she would feel better.

She stopped at a pharmacy on her way to work, and before she even entered her firm’s office, went to the bathroom and peed on the damn stick. The three minutes it took to get the results were excruciating even though she knew what she was doing was ridiculous. After three minutes her phone buzzed; she looked at the test and couldn’t figure out if there was one line or two. More frustrated than before, she unwrapped the other test that actually said “pregnant” or “not pregnant.” I should’ve taken the pregnancy test for dummies first . Now I don’t have to pee! This just keeps getting better . She hovered over the toilet long enough to get a few drops for the new stick and responded to emails for work while she waited another three minutes.

When the timer on her phone went off, she casually glanced at the test and did a double take.

OH. MY. SHIT.

The Beginning...

Looking around the church, Stella saw everyone she loved. She cradled the person who’d changed her entire life with a single look, who made the decision for her to be better for her, and smiled at his dark hair.

The last 15 months had been the longest and shortest of her life. Her pregnancy was as much a shock to her as it was to medical professionals, and she was treated as a high-risk case, seeing a perinatologist since her first call to her doctor’s office in a state of shock.