It’s been six weeks since he left me, six whole weeks since he left my life in tatters. I’d cry, but Renata has been nice enough to put me up for the time being. Lately, I’ve just felt off. I don’t know if it’s the stress of everything, or if it’s because he left to England without even calling me one last time. Something isn’t sitting right inside of me.

“Who cares?” Renata brushes the whole thing off. “You’re on top of the world. Can’t you see that?”

I laugh a little, but I try to see it her way. I have to admit. It’s really hard. “No, I can’t. I have no husband, no job, and no prospects,” I say. “Worst of all, I don’t have him.”

I fall back on her couch and stare at the ceiling. Everything is colorless to me. I reach into my purse and pull out his card. The boyfriend experience. Yeah, some experience. “Give me that,” she says, yanking it out of my hand. She rips it in half. “You don’t need to hang onto the past like you are.”

“Hey!” I yell. “What the hell?”

She looks at me squarely and frowns. “Move on, Erica,” she says. “Seriously. It’s for your own health.”

She’s right. I clutch my hands around my coffee cup and close my eyes. I need to calm down. I need to stop thinking about him. He’s not the end all be all to my life. Just breathe, Erica. I take one breath in, hold it in, and release. I start to feel a little better. I repeat the little exercise.

“There you go, E.” She smiles. “You don’t need him. All you need is yourself.”

I keep breathing, until I start to feel something in my stomach. It’s a creeping sickness coming in. “Wait a second,” I slow down and bend over the couch, clutching my abdomen. It grows and grows, until… “Shit.” I jump up and run to the bathroom.

I vomit all of my coffee and breakfast. “Fuck,” I breathe. I puke again. The image is so flattering. When I’m done, I feel much better. It’s really weird I haven’t felt sick at all until just now. I sit on the toilet with my hands over my head, reclaiming my breath.

“Baby girl, are you okay?” Renata peaks her head into the bathroom.

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I guess so. I don’t know what just happened. Maybe it’s too much coffee or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she mutters. I can tell she has something else on her mind and, yes, it’s already been a thought of mine as well. What if I’m pregnant? Back when I was in college, I had that thought every single time I fucked someone.

“I’m not pregnant. I can’t be pregnant,” I tell her. “Right?”

She kneels down and rubs my arm. “Show me your tits,” she says.

“What?” I exclaim. “No!”

She shrugs. “Well, are they swollen at all? Have you been feeling sick in the morning?”

“No. I mean, not really. I’ve felt kind of weird lately, but that’s just because of everything going on around me. It’s like my whole energy has been off,” I say.

She looks at me, frowning. “Erica,” she says, “you need to go get a test.”

“I’m not pregnant!” I stand up and walk out of the bathroom. I turn back around. “He used a condom. We were safe.”

“Did you check the thing afterward?” she asks me, hands on her hips. “Were you as safe as you thought?”

“No, I didn’t. I’m not going to go digging around for his used condom, Ren,” I say, feeling exhausted.

“But he blew his load inside you?” she asks.

“You’re seriously disgusting,” I say. But I have to face the facts. “Okay, he did. But I’m not pregnant. I cannot and will not be pregnant.”

“It wouldn’t be great with everything going on in your life lately,” she agrees. “But I’m here for you, always. You can stay here as long as you want. I don’t mind.”

“I’m not having a baby. I’m not having a baby. I’m not having a baby,” I repeat it over and over again. “I’m healthy. I’m young. I’m going to find a job and a man, and I’m going to have a good, well-planned life.”

“I’m just saying,” she goes on, “that I’m here for you if you need me. That’s all.”

“Thanks, Ren. I really appreciate it,” I say. “I’m going to go on a drive.”

“You need me to come with?” she asks, eyes full of empathy and understanding. It’s when I see her eyes that I almost start to cry. What if I am pregnant? What if Walker’s child is inside of me right now?

“No, I’m okay,” I say, quickly walking out the door. “I’ll call you when I’m coming home.”

“Love you,” she says, before I close the door.

I walk to the car as fast as I possibly can. I close the door and lean back in my seat. I’m not going to cry. I don’t know anything yet. I’m just going to go to the store, pick up a few tests, and leave. I’m about to get my peace of mind. There’s no way I’m pregnant. As disgusting as it is to think about, Darrin used to cum inside me all of the time. I’ll be fine. I know it.

An hour later, I’m in the superstore, holding a test in my hand. Babies and children are practically surrounding me. One mother yells at her daughter, telling her to “Put back that toy! Put it down now!” Her daughter lets out a shrill cry of despair. It’s piercing.

“Jesus,” I mutter, walking to the bathroom. I slam the stall shut and sit on the toilet. I carefully undo the box top and tear open the plastic. Every sound is so loud to me right now. My senses seem to be going crazy. I can’t tell if it’s all in my head, however. It’s been weeks and I’m having pregnancy symptoms already? It can’t start that early. Can it?

I pee on that damn stick. It’s not the first time I’ve done it. Darrin and I went through the rounds a handful of times. He never wanted children, despite promising me them someday. Ultimately, it was a good idea we never pursued that path, but if I’m fucking pregnant now, I’m done for. My life will be over.

The time it takes for this damn test to show results feels like a lifetime. I hold it in front of me, waiting for the image to show up. Please. Please don’t say positive. Please tell me I’m just stressed the fuck out.

The image starts to form. My heart pounds. My vision slows down. Tears form in my eyes. Positive +. I let out a horrid cry. “No!” I scream. My voice falters and I can’t even say anything. It can’t be. It has to be wrong.

I rip open another test and go through the motions. Positive +. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper. “Shit, no!” Tears pour from my eyes, trailing down my cheeks. Walker. The motherfucker who got me pregnant.

Where is he now? Where will he be tomorrow? I’m never going to get that call from him. There’s never going to be another chance. Even if there was, he wouldn’t stay with me to raise a baby. How stupid am I? I have to be a fucking moron to ruin my life this much.

“Are you okay?” a woman asks me through the stall. “Do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” I whisper. “I’m…” I don’t know what to say to the woman. Do I tell her I’m pregnant with a foreign man’s child? “I’m just going through something right now.”

“Okie dokie,” she says, walking away.

Okie dokie. Everything is just hunky dory. I’m pregnant and I’ll never get my life back.

I call Renata and close my eyes, trying to block the world out. “Erica? What’s up? You okay?”

“Ren,” I cry. “I’m pregnant. I’m fucking pregnant.”

* * *

Six years later…

“Aidan! You’re going to be late for the bus!” I yell. “Ronnie?”

I’m finishing making his sandwich. I throw in a plastic bag of carrots. I leave a note inside. “Have a wonderful day, my love. Mommy misses you!”

First Grade. It’s such a big thing for a mom. He’s getting so much older. “Mommy! I feel sick!” I hear him yell.

“God dammit, Aidan,” I whisper. It doesn’t mean he’s not a little faker. I walk into his room and he’s taken off his clothes and tucked his body under the covers. “Aidan, come on. You don’t have much time. You’re going to miss the bus.”

“Mom, I’m sick,” he groans and fakes a cough. I walk over and feel his head. He actually feels colder than normal. There’s not a trace of too much heat in his body.

“Aidan, you feel fine. Don’t kid me. I won’t read to you tonight if you do,” I warn him.

He groans loudly and rolls out of bed. “Sorry,” he says. I put his shirt over his head and he wiggles into it. I put on his pants, his socks, and his shoes, all in such a hurry.

“Come on, baby. We only have five minutes.” We rush outside the house and run as fast as we can. I can hear the brakes from the bus. It stops at the corner for a brief second, and leaves. “No! Wait!” I yell, but it’s already gone.

“Dang it!” I hiss. This whole going to school, making lunches, and then going to work thing is impossible, I swear.

“It’s okay, momma,” he says. “We can drive.”

“Okay. Let’s go,” I smile and look at the bright side. Sure, raising Aidan alone is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s still a damn blessing. “I’ll race you!”

I start running and he follows after me. “Head start!” he yells. “You cheated!”

“No way!” I laugh, touching the door of the car first. “Mom wins!”

“Not fair,” he pouts. I open the door, put him in the backseat, and we head for the school.

Every single day he leaves my sight my heart breaks a little more. Seeing him grow is just about the best experience I’ve been through. But he’s getting older. He’s starting to ask questions. All of the other kids have dads. Where is his?

I can’t even answer that at this point. I thought that by now I would have heard something from him, but of course there’s just static. He left to London and never came back. Most likely, he found a job, met a beautiful woman, and pursued that as much as he could. Do I blame him? That, I can’t answer.

“Bye, mom!” he says, unbuckling his seat belt.

“Give me a kiss, Aidan.” He kisses my cheek and jumps out of the car. “I love you so much!” I say, feeling my heart expand.

Part of me feels angry with Walker. Another part of me is just confused. If I just got some clarity, I’d feel so much better about everything. I’d feel like maybe I could move on. Still, I think about him every day. I know it’s crazy. But I do.

It’s not that I still like him. It’s not even about that. He’s a part of me now. More than that, he’s a part of Aidan and he deserves to know who is dad really is. Not to mention, there’s some child support I could really use right now. The ten thousand only lasted so long. Now, with my new lower-level marketing job, I’m making half of what I used to.

Right now, Aidan’s the easies thing about my life. I scroll through my email, looking for a certain email address from my father. He broke his hip last month and he’s not doing too well. The doctors are worried about his recovery and I keep reading horror stories about how it shaves the years right off your life.

Before I even open the email, I brace for impact. “He’s doing much better…. expect a full recovery.” The words are uplifting. My father’s going to be okay. Still, there’s more to worry about. He’s living off of his monthly government checks and can barely afford the medical expenses. He doesn’t have insurance to cover it. So, of course, I’m the one stuck with the bill.

Work is stressful enough, but it goes by a bit faster than usual. I give my presentation, receive a round of applause, and I walk into my office to pour myself a little celebratory drink. We got the account. All seems good.

A knock on my door brings me out of my celebrating mood. My boss, Jake Hyde, opens the door with a smile. “Hey, I hope I’m not interrupting. That was a great presentation.”

“Thanks, Jake,” I smile. “Would you like a celebratory drink?”

“No, I’m okay. I actually just came in to check up on you,” he says, turning more serious. “Is everything okay at home?”

“What do you mean? Everything’s fine,” I say.

He smiles again and thinks hard to himself. “Shoot, there I go again. I’m not phrasing things correctly,” he says. “I just mean, you’ve got a ton on your plate. If you need anything, just let me know, okay?”

“Thank you, Jake.” I give a forced smile.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later then,” he says, ducking through the door. “Fantastic presentation!”

I give him a thumbs-up and sit back in my chair. Do I have lot on my plate? I sure fucking do. Jake has been trying to fuck me since I started working here. He comes into my office at least twice a day to tell me how great I’ve been working, but the whole time he just stares at my breasts. At this point, it’s become a hassle. If Walker was still around, maybe I could get him to stop.

There’s no one that I want, not even Walker. There’s no man for me because all men are shit. At least, that’s how I’m feeling right now. I slump back in my chair and close my eyes, breathing as slow as I can. The doctor says I have high blood pressure and I need to “take it easy.”

Everyone has advice for us single mothers. They don’t realize that we’re just surviving through the day. I’m waiting for that sunlight to fade, so I can lie in bed, watching my favorite television show, while the light of my life plays with his action figures on the floor. Nobody said this was going to be easy. I knew that from the get-go. There are moments of joy, however. And I don’t regret that for an instant.

When I call Renata, however, I tell her one thing only. “I need a fucking drink.”