Chapter Nine - Lovesick
Siobhan
I am sick. With love. One night, that’s all it took. Perhaps it is lust, that desire for things we can’t have. Harrod disappeared the day after our night together. I am aching to see him again. I want to feel him feel me up again. I dream about him, about our night together. I don’t regret waiting this long to have sex, because losing my virginity to him was worth it. I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I’ll never regret it.
All that dribble aside, the love has actually made me sick. It has been two weeks since he left, and I am a mess already. I am sitting on the bed in my jammies, my hair messed up, a trash bin at my side. I have some bug and I am puking like hell as I wait for his call. I can’t wait anymore. I am going to tell him exactly how I feel.
Then the phone rings.
“Hey, sweetpea.”
“Hello,” I reply hoarsely.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Harry.”
“Are you okay? You don’t sound so—” Another wave of nausea hits me and I puke ruthlessly.
“Sorry, I’m sick. Anyway, when are you coming back?”
“I think it will be another week before I can come back,” he says.
“Why did you have to go all of a sudden? We should have followed up with the second date. This is torture, Harry. I need you.”
“Listen,” he says tentatively. “There’s something you need to know.”
“I’m listening,” I say.
“I can’t tell you over the phone. I…I need to show you something. I just don’t know…it’s complicated.”
“Well, tell me where you are and I’ll come over.”
“No, you’re unwell. Go see a doctor, get well, and then we’ll talk about it.”
“Harry,” I begin. I need to tell him how I feel. I can’t bottle these feelings inside for long. “Don’t freak out, okay?”
“Okay, what is it?”
“I think I am in love with you.”
“That’s a relief,” he says with phew. “I thought you were gonna say, ‘I’m pregnant’.”
“Is it too soon to say it?”
“Siobhan, I think about you all the time. I believe in taking things slowly, but the way I feel for you, if it isn’t love already, I don’t know what is.”
“I just…we had such good time. And now I feel like I’m losing you already.”
“You aren’t losing me, darling. Things are just complicated. I’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to my dad. We’ll see if we can get you here.”
“Update me as soon as you can,” I tell him. “By the way, they asked me today if I wanted to have another lab partner because you were on leave. I said no, but now I’m working for two. When you come back, I’ll make you work thrice as hard.”
“Baby, I’ll work on you very hard once we’re together again.”
“I love you,” I say, before the next wave of nausea hits. “I think I should sleep now.”
“No, just keep talking to me. I look forward to talking to you all day. It’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane.”
“You know, I almost feel like punishing you by not talking to you right now, just like you abandoned me.”
“I didn’t abandon you, babe. Things came up, and when you know why, you’ll understand.”
“I won’t pester you by asking you to tell me now, but it better be soon.”
“It will be, I promise.”
“I love you, Siobhan.” He finally says the magical words and butterflies flutter in my stomach.
“I love you, too,” I say, hanging up.
The butterflies in my stomach are too strong, and their fluttering doesn’t go away the next morning. I finally book an appointment with my GP. After all the preliminaries and everything, I end up in the GP’s room.
“So,” she says, “you on a pill or something?”
“What pill?” I ask.
“Birth control?”
“No,” I say.
“When was the last time you had sex?”
“Almost three weeks ago, but—”
“Did you use protection?”
“No, but it was just that one time. I’m not pregnant.”
“I didn’t say you are, but you could be. Here,” she says, handing me a cup and a water bottle. “Drink the water, and then urinate in the cup.”
I do as she says, and then she tells me I’m pregnant. I don’t say much. I ask her if she’s sure, and she tells me that sometimes the tests show as negative during early stages of pregnancy, “But positive is positive. We can do a blood test or an ultrasound if you want, but you are definitely pregnant.”
“No, that’s fine, thank you.”
I have to tell Harrod. I have to tell him before my own mother finds out. I know how my pregnancy could be used negatively in the media to tarnish her image. There are journalists who feed on such stuff and make stories out of it, but I won’t let that happen.
I try to call him all day but I can’t get through to him, so I go to his house instead. The officers refuse to clear me because Harrod isn’t home.
“Fine, don’t clear me. I’ll wait here until his father comes. I want to speak to him.”
“Ma’am, we can’t tell you when he’ll be back. He comes home late. Why don’t you—”
“Save it,” I say decisively. “I am not going anywhere.”
The officer sends some sort of message on his walkie-talkie. Then another guy comes from the security cabin and clears me to go.
“Mr. Ford is already on his way here. Please go on. The butler will receive you.”
When I reach the gates, I get out of the car and skip off the road. I want to walk in those gardens again, but the second I step onto the grass, a loud voice shrieks from hidden speakers, “Get off the grass! Get off the grass!”
“Okay, okay,” I say, and get back on the path. It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the house. When I get there, Gabe takes me to the drawing room.
“Mr. Ford will be landing any minute now. He’ll join you shortly.”
The butler leaves and I wait for Harry’s dad to finally arrive. Once I have calmed down, I realize how stupid of me it was to come here. I don’t know what I’ll say to him. I mean, what can I say? I love your son, bring him back?
Mr. Ford clears his throat loudly to let me know he’s there, and is followed by the butler. He waves Gabe off, shakes my hand, grabs two glasses and a bottle of scotch and sits down on the opposite sofa.
“Young lady,” he says. “You have been quite a nuisance to my security personnel.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Ford. I just—”
“It’s fine,” he says. “Tell me, what brings you here? It must have been important.”
“I just wanted to see Harrod. I have to talk to him about something. It’s really important.”
“Ah, you two are dating.” He says that more like a statement than a question.
“I’m not really sure you can call it that, but your son and I like each other very much.”
“‘Like’ wouldn’t have made you come all the way here, all the while knowing he wasn’t here.”
“No, we do love each other. It just seems strange to say it so soon, but we are probably headed in that direction.”
“You are cautious, just like your mother.”
“You know my mother?”
“Everybody knows your mother. Senator Daphna has been one of the finest.”
“But I never told Harrod about my mother. How do you know all this?”
“Your mother and I have crossed paths quite often, mostly on the wrong foot. She gives us a hard time in Congress. Nevertheless, like yourself, she is a brilliant woman. Dedicated, hardworking and passionate. We are acquainted.”
“Right, and I can guess what you do.”
“Best not to speak of it. Now, back to why you are here.”
“I’d much rather talk to him.”
“Except you know you can’t. So I’m all you have for the time being. Now you can tell me what it is and I’ll help you as I see fit, or you can wait till later tonight to talk to him. Take your pick and decide fast, because I don’t have all day.”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out. To say that Harrod’s father is intimidating would be an understatement. He sweetly pressurized me and then threw the time bomb. Or maybe I am hormonal. I’m normally better at staying calm
“What? What has that got to do with…” He pauses, then pours himself another drink and shakes his head.
“Harrod?” he asks, looking at me.
I nod. “It was just the one time.”
“Harrod is the father of your baby?” He laughs. “I don’t believe this.”
“I’m telling the truth,” I say, indignant.
“Sorry, no, I don’t mean I doubt you. I’m just surprised. Harrod has always been careful, followed the rules, all those things. You know how it is for families like ours. And now this.” He laughs again.
“Are you implying that I—”
“I am not implying anything,” he chides. “When did you find out?”
“About two hours ago. I didn’t know what to do or where to go.”
“I’m glad you came here. How far along are you?”
“Three weeks.”
“Do you want to visit Harrod?” he asks. “I have a private jet. I can send you off now. But you can’t come back until Harrod completes his training, which is going to be another week.”
“He never told me he was…what is he training for?”
“I think it’s best if you go there and find out for yourself.”
“So where will I be going?”
“I can’t tell you that, but the place is safe.”
“My mother will want to know.”
“I’ll handle your mother. Besides, you’re grown woman. Tell her to stop being a helicopter parent.”
“I’m sure you know how it is,” I say. “Security issues and all that.”
He nods, finishing his drink.
“Are you going to keep the baby?”
“I’ll decide when I talk to Harrod. I think we’ll make a decision together.”
“Well, whatever you decide, I hope you do keep the baby. This life is lonely. Harrod and I have always been alone. It wouldn’t hurt to have a pup in the den.”
“A pup?”
“You know, a baby wolf.”
“I doubt such ferocious beings exist among our kind.”
“You’d be surprised,” he says.
He stays for another half an hour and chats. In spite of his cockiness and impassiveness, I see a lonely man. He tells me about his wife, her mental illness and how he never married again because he’s still in love with her. He also talks a lot about the baby, what I’ll do and where I’ll stay, if we decide to keep the baby. His eyes sparkle whenever he mentions the baby, icy cold and blue like Harrod’s.
An hour later, I find myself on a private jet, circling a forest on a mountain. Down below, the only sign of civilization is a short strip of tar and asphalt — a runway.