I am okay.

This is what I tell myself as I stare down at my ringing phone, but don’t answer it because I know what I’m telling myself can’t possibly be true.

I am not okay.

Keen’s been calling me for the past three hours and I haven’t been able to pick up. It’s now one in the morning and I haven’t moved since the plus sign made its appearance.

The text messages started soon after the first call and I haven’t been able to answer those either.

3 hours ago

Mr. Tall, Dark & Handsome: Hey, I thought you’d be home by now. Call me.

2 hours ago

Baby Daddy: Maggie, where are you?

1 hour ago

Baby Daddy: Where the fuck are you?

1 minute ago

Baby Daddy: Listen baby, I’m worried. Call me.

I have no words to tell him.

How do you tell someone that his whole life is about to change when you can’t even begin to fathom it yourself?

I turn my phone off and go back into the bathroom.

Stare at the test.

Then the second one.

And the third.

None of them have changed.

They are all positive.

I throw them away.

And even that doesn’t change the fact that I am having a baby.

Turning on the shower, I step in and allow myself to cry. I go down to my knees and let the hot water pound on my naked skin and I try to figure out how this happened. Try to come to terms with the fact that I am having a baby.

I am having a baby.

And with those five words, I allow myself to come undone.

I am not okay.

Keen.

Oh, God, Keen.

What will he say?

How will he react?

I’m worried and afraid. Will I be doing this on my own, like my mother did? And my grandmother did?

Will I lose him?

I can’t breathe at the thought.

I gasp and choke, and clutch my face.

I am not okay.

The knock on the door has me jumping up and once I take a deep breath, I call out, “What?”

The door opens. “Maggie?” It’s my mother.

I peer out the side of the shower curtain but leave the water running so she can’t hear the strain in my voice. “Yeah, Mom?”

She’s in her robe with her makeup off, and she’s holding the house phone with her palm on the receiver. “Keen is on the phone, honey—he’s worried about you. Is something going on?”

I reach my hand out. “No. Everything is fine. I’ll talk to him.”

Handing it to me, she stares at me with knowing eyes. “You sure?”

I nod. “I’m fine. Go to bed. Sorry he woke you.”

When she leaves, I turn the water off and slip out of the shower. Once I’ve wrapped a towel around myself, I put the phone to my ear. “Keen,” I manage.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and taut. “You didn’t answer my calls. What’s going on?”

Taking a few steps, I turn and slide down the door to sit on the floor. My voice is shaky and my entire body is trembling. “I can’t.”

I hear the sound of the mattress, like he’s sitting up. “Can’t what, Maggie?”

Water drips onto the floor and I try to hold back my tears. “I can’t,” I say again.

“Hey, is this about yesterday? Because if it is, I should have told you that I love you. Maggie, I love you.”

I cry even louder.

“Hey, I didn’t say it because I didn’t want to scare you away. And maybe because I was a little afraid myself. To be honest, this feeling terrifies me.”

I cry even louder because I think I love him too. And I don’t know how I feel about that. The only thing I know about love is that it hurts, and what if I don’t want to be hurt?

“Maggie, do you hear me? I love you.”

The strength in his tone. The sound of his voice. The resoluteness of it breaks me, and I find myself saying something I never thought I’d say to a man. “I love you, too, Keen. I love you, too.”

“Okay,” he laughs, “that’s good, but why are you crying?”

The rise and force of all these feelings comes rushing out and I know I have to tell him. This isn’t something that is just a part of me. It’s a part of him too. “Because I’m afraid what I’m going to tell you is going to break us.”

“Nothing can do that.”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, “and I can’t talk about it right now, so I’m hanging up. I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise.”

Right or wrong, I have to accept this for myself before I can expect Keen to. And whatever he decides, I will have to live with. With that, I end the call and leave the phone off the hook. And then I head to bed.

Tomorrow I will face whatever this means.

Tomorrow.