So much for that In-N-Out dinner and maple bar. At least she’s quick about it.
“You okay?” I ask as she wipes her face and flushes the toilet.
She goes to the sink and rinses out her mouth. “How much more time now?”
I glance at my watch, reach out and carefully pick up the wand, and hold it toward the light. It reveals two distinct stripes. That second little stripe indicating positive, feels like a needle jabbed in my heart. I turn away from her so she can’t see my expression. I have no fucking gameface at this point.
“What?” she whispers.
I hold up the stick. “Positive.” I feel like I can’t breath and it’s not even my kid. She wasn’t looking for this. I can’t even imagine how she’s feeling.
“Positive?” she asks in a distraught voice. I hear her choke back tears.
I nod and try to swallow down the lump in my throat. Luckily, I look over at her before she sways and then starts to crumble. I catch her just in time and pull her tightly into my arms. It breaks my heart when she presses her face into my chest and lets out a sorrowful cry. I sweep my arm under her knees and lift her up.
She’s full on sobbing by the time I carry her to the living room and sink down onto the couch, still holding her tightly against me. I slowly run my hand across her head and down her back over and over, imagining what this experience would be like if it were my kid. Would she feel differently than as distraught as she seems to be right now? Would she want our baby as much as I would? I ache because I wish it were mine and that’s messed up to even be thinking about when she’s so defeated by the news.
My shirt is soaked and my arm numb by the time the tears quiet. She tilts her face up to look at me.
“What am I going to do, Paul?”
“I would think you’d want to take a little time to figure out what your heart wants you to do.”
She lets out a long sigh and nods.
I can’t help but be tender with her. My heart is broken—not just for what we could have been, but for the tough decisions she has ahead of her. I brush her hair off her damp forehead.
“I must say, Elle, I think you’d make an incredible mom.”
I watch two streams of tears slowly make their way down her cheeks. “I’m not so sure I would,” she says quietly. “How could I properly take care of a baby with my irregular work schedule and travel? There are some events where I have no idea when I’ll get home.”
“But what about Stephan? He would be helping.”
At the mention of his name she squeezes her eyes shut and grimaces. “Stephan,” she sighs.
“What? This baby is his responsibility, too.”
“Yes, but can you imagine? He’d seal the baby in a germ-free bubble. Besides, he’s the least fatherly man I know.”
“I’ll take your word on that. You’d have a super clean baby for sure.” I try to give her a warm smile. “He’d probably wear surgical gloves to change a diaper.”
“Oh I can promise you that he’d never change a dirty diaper.”
“He might surprise you. Fatherhood changes people. I have a friend from college that could be such an ass, but when his son was born he changed completely . . . at least around his kid. He’s a total mush head now.”
She lets out an awkward laugh.
“What?”
“I just remembered my junior high health teacher telling us to never sleep with someone unless you think they’d make a good parent. She was only trying to scare us out of sex, but now I see the wisdom in her words. I should’ve listened.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know better than anyone that the need for sex can make us do things we wouldn’t necessarily do.”
She nods and leans into my chest again.
“You just need to tell him so you can figure the rest out. Hopefully, together,” I say.
“Okay,” she whispers.
Her eyes glaze over and I wonder what she’s thinking deep in her heart. Elle is a worldly woman. I don’t need to tell her that there are several choices she can make regarding the baby. It’s not my baby, nor my body, so I intend to support her with whatever she chooses.
She makes an effort to sit up and I help her until she’s upright with her legs hanging off the couch. “I think I need to go to bed,” she says.
“Yes, get some sleep. You can call Stephan tomorrow.”
When we get to her front door I turn to face her, placing both of my hands on her shoulders. “Will you let me know how the talk with him goes?”
She bites her lip but nods. “Yes.”
I run my hands down her arms. “I want you to know that I’m here for you, whatever decision you make. Just promise me you won’t sell yourself short. I meant what I said. You’ll be an incredible mom.”
She brushes new tears away and steps up close so I can wrap my arms around her. “Paul, what would I do without you? Your kindness means so much to me. You’re such a good friend.”
And I’ll never be more than that now . . .
My chest hurts as that raw truth hits me.
“Good men make good friends,” I say with a hug. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I hold it together as I take several steps down her walkway and turn to wave good- bye. But I clench my fists all the way to the car and my jaw is locked as I pull my door shut. In the silence of my car I finally let out my frustration.
“Damn it all,” I yell as I slam my forehead against the steering wheel. “Why? Why?”
I want to punch my fist through the windshield and then track down the Viking and beat the crap out of him for having a timeshare in Maui when he hates sand. It’s all his fault that I no longer have a chance with Elle.
I feel a stinging in my eyes and I flip down my visor mirror. What the hell? Are those tears glazing my eyes? I never cry. I point at my reflection. “Don’t you dare cry, asshole. Don’t you dare!” I slam the visor back up.
As I fire up my engine my mind goes dark places. How tragically ironic that the night we learn that Elle has a new life growing inside of her is the same night my hope, for the life I finally realized I want, has died.
Chapter Nine
THE HERO
The next two days at work are living hell. I’m worried about Elle, and not sure what I can do to help her. She texts me to let me know she’s meeting with the Viking after work on Tuesday. She promises to text me whether he took the news better than she’d hoped, or worse.
Stephan isn’t the only thing I’m concerned about in regards to Elle. I’m worried she isn’t taking good care of herself and my internet research has shown that her health habits in this first trimester are key. At lunch I go to the pharmacy in the building across from our office and get a recommendation from the pharmacist for pre-natal vitamins. As I pay for the purchase it occurs to me that she may have trouble keeping them down. I hope she does better with them than she did with her Double-Double.
By early evening Tuesday I find myself lingering behind at work and doodling at my drafting table while I try to imagine how I would take the news if it were my baby, and not the Viking’s. I know I’d be a better dad than him. As soon as the kid was old enough I’d start taking him to the park so we could play in the sand box barefoot together. Hell, I’d buy a sandbox for our house, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be caught dead in those pussy water shoes.
Our kid would know sand, and messy hand paintings and food all over their little face. We’d pitch tents in the living room, and there’d be Lego pieces under every piece of furniture or tucked into every cushion crevice. I’d smile at every sticky fingerprint because I’d know that they were like footprints in the road proving I was on the right path with my life.
I pick up my phone and check it again. Nothing. By 7:30 I can’t take it any longer and I text her.
You okay?
She responds almost immediately.
No.
Is he still there?