Harry
When Harry came home from work, Natalie was sitting on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her. Her eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking. Harry followed her line of vision. The TV wasn’t on, even though she looked at it. “Uh, you okay, Nat?” he asked.
“Went to the doctor today.”
“Oh?” Harry stopped at the chair, the one that always gave him trouble. He walked around, catching his shin on the damn thing anyway. Wincing, he took a seat without swearing. “What did he say?” he croaked. If it was cancer…
She glanced at him. “You should know I’m not dying.”
“That’s good news.” The weight on the center of his chest lifted somewhat, although he heard a ‘but’ coming.
“That might be the bad news. I dunno. It’s not terrible news. I’ve been doing some thinking and I have another appointment in a couple of days.”
“What kind of appointment?” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. What was she not telling him?
“I’m fifty and I’ve grown comfortable with the way my life is now. Or maybe I’d just come to accept my fate.”
“I feel like you’re speaking in riddles. What’s going on?”
“I mean, I like my life the way it—”
“What are you telling me? You’re not dying but you have a disease? What?” Harry searched her face then looked at the Time magazine on the coffee table. “Natalie, whatever it is, tell me.”
“I’m pregnant.”
His head snapped up. Pregnant? “Um, huh?” He grinned. Of all the things she could have said at the moment, this wasn’t one he imagined. Guess he still had it after all. He puffed his chest a little bit, although he wondered how Grace would take the news. Would she be happy for them? Harry knew having a child at their ages wasn’t ideal, but that didn’t matter to him. He’d always wanted another child.
She held up her hand. “Before you say anything, it’s yours.”
Harry chuckled. “I know. We aren’t kids. I’d never question—”
“I haven’t decided what I’m doing yet.”
Harry’s brows knitted together. “Not sure what you mean you ‘haven’t decided’.” Man, he considered himself pro-choice, though not with his own child apparently.
“I’m fifty years old, Harry.”
“So?”
“I’m high-risk, it could kill me, or worse.”
“What would be worse than that?”
She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Our baby could have birth defects or—”
“So what, you want to have an abortion?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“It sure as hell sounded like it.”
With puffy eyes, she sniffled. A sob escaped her throat.
Harry sighed, “Look, I’m sorry…and whatever you decide, please let me know. You owe me that courtesy as the father.”
“I haven’t made up my mind about anything.”
“You sure? It sounds like you have. I can’t tell you what to do and I won’t.” And that sucks.
“I need some time to think. We’ll talk about this after my doctor’s—”
“Whatever, I…” he waved himself off.
“What do you want? I’m scared.” Natalie crossed her arms over her stomach.
My baby’s in there, he thought. Maybe he secretly wished this. He’d wasted so many years pinning for Annie in the arms of women he didn’t even like all that much. Natalie had been there from the start, waiting for him to figure his shit out. They could have had a child years ago. Now she was questioning whether to have his kid or not. Telling her not to be scared seemed patronizing.
Harry ignored his chirping phone. She cast her eyes downward. His cell signaled the incoming text message again. He set his lips into a thin line. “There’s no reason to be scared.” Crap, why did he say that?
She glared at him for a moment. “Easy for you to say, it’s not your body. Or old eggs.”
“Who said you have old eggs?” Harry got up and strode into the kitchen. The cupboards made a lot of noise as he banged them open and shut. He nearly broke a mug on the counter when he slammed it down.
“What are you doing?” she asked, appearing in the doorway.
“Making coffee.” Harry searched for the filters and bag of grounds.
“The coffee is in the fridge.” Natalie went to the cabinet in the corner and pulled out the filters.
After she put a filter into the coffee maker, Harry dumped the grounds in straight from the bag. “You act like if our child has something wrong it’d be all your fault. Who knows, I might have shoddy sperm.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your sperm,” she said.
He filled the pot with water and switched the machine on. “Then what makes you think something’s the matter with your eggs?”
“I’m fifty!”
He threw his hands out from his sides and slapped his thighs. “So? That doesn’t mean the baby won’t be all right. That you just give up before the baby even has a chance to prove you wrong.” His voice cracked.
“I haven’t made up my mind about anything.”
“Sure about that?”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Like what? Upset?”
“I don’t know what to do. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I’m not interested in being a single parent.”
“You’re not!”
She held her left hand up and waggled her fingers at him. “Do you see a ring on this finger?”
“I’ll marry you, if that’s what you want.”
“Oh, that’s straight from the heart. I felt it here.” She patted her chest. Another text had been sent to Harry’s phone. “Who keeps texting you?”
Harry glanced at the screen of his phone. He hesitated before answering. “Fucking work.”
She took out a travel mug and poured the brewed coffee for him. “Here. Because I know you’re leaving now.”
Harry’s chest tightened. “Nat…”
“It’s always work.” She turned away from his gaze and sat the coffee on the counter.
“Hey…” Harry went to place a hand on her shoulder, then stopped himself. He needed to get out of there. His heart had grown larger when she’d told him the news, now he’d been sucker punched in the gut. He left the stainless steel travel mug on the counter and walked out.