Lily
Kerry’s over with ice cream faster than she promised on the phone.
She leaves her goody bag on the coffee table, her purse hitting the floor by the couch. Opening her arms, she beckons me closer. The hug is exactly what I need. Kerry holds me until the dry sobs stop rolling through my body. She hauls me back enough to study my face.
Turning us to the couch, she pushes me down and falls to her knees by the table, digging through the plastic bags from the store. She sets out the ice cream, alphabetically by flavor.
I count nine flavors while she’s hauling out a smaller bag of clear plastic spoons.
“We’re trying them all,” she says, opening the first small carton and passing me a spoon. “And you’re not leaving this couch until you’ve numbed it all away...at least for now.”
I nod, holding out my hand for a spoon.
Over that first spoonful, I sob and pluck the spoon out of my mouth, swallowing the ice cold cream hard, unfeeling of the chocolate-y, nutty burst on my tongue. It’s all plain vanilla to me at this moment.
“I can’t,” I say.
Kerry, bless her heart, purses her lips and bobs her head, sympathy brightening her eyes. She slides up on the couch beside me, her arm coming around my shoulders. She holds me to her side, my head resting in the crook of her neck.
“They’re all positive,” I choke out. “Every single one of the five I bought. I know that sometimes they can be false, but five tests don’t lie!”
Kerry’s silence urges me on.
“What am I supposed to do? How do I tell him? Luke will flip.”
“He won’t,” Kerry begins.
“You don’t know that,” I retort, snorting. Then I apologize, sagging with guilt. She’s only here to support me, after all. This isn’t her mess to clean up.
“Can I make an observation?”
My words have dried up for now, so I gesture for her to go on.
“From how I’ve seen Luke act around you, he doesn’t seem the type to pump and dump and run.” She warningly raises the hand not holding my shoulder. “Let me finish. Being outside of this relationship, a mostly objective party, and speaking honestly as your friend, I do really believe Luke cares for you.”
“But does he love me? And is he ready for a baby?” I give her a long look.
Kerry shakes her head. “I can’t tell you that for sure. Though there is a way to find out…”
I push out of the sofa, her arm falling away. She doesn’t chase me as I pace back and forth from the TV to the couch. I’m running from what she’s implying. Asking Luke should be out of the question, but we’re talking a pregnancy here. His baby. Luke Hanley is the father of my child.
Could I look him in the eyes and confidently tell him he’s going to be a daddy?
My hands grip my belly; I massage soft, pliant flesh. Soon I’d be showing, and putting it off would be impossible in a few months. And then there’d come a time where the baby would be kicking…
I notice Kerry’s gaze on my wandering hands. I drop them, letting my heavy hands squeeze into fist at my sides.
“I can’t tell him. He doesn’t love me.” I come to the conclusion, and saying it aloud makes it all the more real. “Kerry, he doesn’t love me...and he won’t love this child. You don’t understand. I can’t open this baby to that.”
“So what? You’ll hide it?”
“If I have to!” I stare at her wildly, my eyes wide, bulging, fists rising up in front of me. “I won’t let him hurt this baby. And I’m not going to get rid it.”
Kerry stands slowly, her hands out in front of her in a placating manner. I might have found it funny she’s taking such a stance, but I do feel a bit like a skittish foal. A deer-in-the-headlights staring at my unknown future as it crashes into me.
“All I want is for you to see where this is headed. You can’t hide it, hon. This baby is as much a part of Luke as it is a part of you.” Kerry’s words unleash the well of tears I thought I had exhausted after all five tests popped up with two bright pink lines.
Her words, wise and true, come down a tunnel at me. Like an out-of-control car I’m seeing my new future as a sudden young, unwed mother with no clue how to raise a child.
“Luke is here now, and that says enough. He chose you; he chooses you every time he walks into your apartment,” Kerry says. “Give him a chance to be a father first, before you act as his judge, jury, and executioner.”
“Executioner?” I snuffle.
Kerry grins. “Okay, I took it too far. But you get what I’m saying.” She grabs an ice cream container and wiggles it. “Now come here and take your medicine.”
Coaxed back to the couch, the fight ebbing from my fatigued body, I consider what she’s said. I should give Luke a chance, I know that. The sane part of me is nodding her head enthusiastically, but she’s also a hopeful romantic. That part of me conjures a fantasy where Luke and I have our family surrounding us for a dream wedding.
Fantasy Luke grips for my belly, now swollen with his child. He beams down at me and traps my mouth in a passionate, toe-curling kiss.
The fantasy pops.
I’m back on the couch, my hand cold from clutching the ice cream container, my tongue thick in my mouth. I glance at Kerry. She’s chattering away, trying her best to keep the mood light.
She’s become such a champion for Luke. She doesn’t know Luke and I have a deal. An alibi is the glue holding us together, maybe a bit of lust, but not love. At least not on his part. If Kerry knew, would she still be encouraging me to speak to Luke?
I only remember it’s past noon on a weekday when Kerry stands to announce her departure.
She stopped over during her lunch break after I sent several texts to her at dawn. She gestures to the ice cream. “Eat as much as you can. Don’t worry about calories or cavities for today.” She brushes a kiss on my forehead, squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll be back later to check on you.”
I called in sick to work. It’s a first for me.
I’m not even experiencing morning sickness. Not yet…something else I have to look forward to now my life’s taken a different turn.
I rub my belly, wondering how something so tiny—about poppy seed size according to the pregnancy websites I scoured through in bed after sending the texts to Kerry—could take over my life.
Instead of doing as Kerry remedies, I put the lids on all the ice cream and juggle them in two trips to the fridge. Stocking them in the freezer, I head to my bedroom and return to bed, my hand finding my phone on the nightstand.
I find myself tapping into my contacts tab. Luke’s number is under my parents’ number, aptly named ‘Home.’ But I haven’t recognized it as home since they all but kicked me out.
One mistake and I was blacklisted in their eyes. I was no longer their coddled little girl but a flawed young woman who should be able to pull up her big-girl pants and handle herself.
I blink away the tears, forcing my mind from them to Luke. It’s not a good place to be either, not when I think how such a wonderful blessing, and I can’t think of a baby as anything else, could have arrived at such a wrong time. If only the stork stayed away for long enough. I could have sorted my feelings for Luke, figured out what he felt for me too.
“Now it’s too late,” I sniffle, wiping at the tears tickling my cheeks, warm and salty. I toss the phone to the space behind me, giving my back to it. I quietly cry myself to sleep.