Ninety-Five

“How… how is that possible?” she sputtered in disbelief, even as all the air rushed from her lungs.  “I had a period less than a month ago.”

“Sometimes what appears to be a regular menstrual period is actually something entirely different,” Dr. Shively explained.  “Based on what you’ve told me, it was a lighter, shorter period than usual, leading me to believe you were actually experiencing something called implantation bleeding.   It’s caused by the fertilized egg burrowing into the blood-rich lining of the uterus. It's generally a lot lighter than a typical period and lasts just a day or two.”

A numbing coldness seeped into her mind, heart and limbs.  She could do nothing but stare blankly at the calendar on the far wall as her thoughts echoed in her head.

Five weeks.  The condom broke five weeks ago TODAY.  The rape was four weeks and six days ago. 

This couldn’t be happening.  She’d already worked her way through to the other side of this particular nightmare.  She was just here for birth control and a clean bill of health.  That’s all.  There had to be some kind of mistake.

That’s it.  A mistake.

Part of her knew that it was completely irrational, but hope had her eyes wildly reconnecting with the doctor’s and she clutched at her arms with unknowing strength.

“Are you sure?  Are you positive?”

Dr. Shively radiated compassion, but it was evident that she was standing by her prognosis.  Easing herself from Allegra’s grip, she affirmed, “I’m afraid so. The urine sample you gave us indicated positive for pregnancy hormones, and the ultrasound enabled me to determine the age of the fetus.”

“Oh my God...” she whispered, as her mind raced.  What was she going to do?

“I know this is difficult, dear, but I have to ask.  With sexual assault as a factor, are you considering termination of the pregnancy?”

Termination of the pregnancy. 

Allegra forcibly pushed down the contents of her stomach with a gulp.  Whatever happened from this point forward, abortion was no more an option than the morning after pill had been.

“No.  We had a birth control accident the night before the rape, so it could be my boyfriend’s baby.”  Allegra’s eyes dulled as she bleakly pronounced, “I won’t take the risk of killing our child.”

“And unfortunately, paternity testing isn’t viable until the twelfth week,” the doctor sympathized.  “Your next appointment will be in a month, and we can discuss it then, once you’ve had a little more time to adjust.  You take as long as you need in here.  The nurse will schedule the appointment and give you a vitamin prescription whenever you’re ready.”  She squeezed her hand one last time before quietly exiting the room. 

Her hand crept over her stomach with a mind of its own, subconsciously looking for some evidence of what she’d been told, but instead of proof it gave her a memory.  It was of the night that the condom broke, and a vision of Richie’s big hand cradling her tummy so protectively. 

Tears flooded her eyes as she wished time had stopped that night, in that tender moment.  Mistake or not, he’d made her feel like it was going to be all right.  She longed for that feeling again.  Longed to crawl into his arms and convince her everything was exactly as it should be.

But she didn’t have that right.

Stop it.

There was no time to do this now.  Gus would be storming the building any minute if she didn’t get out of here.  Somehow between now and then, she also had to figure out a way to pretend that her world hadn’t just tipped off its axis. 

With shaking hands, she swiped the tears away and slid off the exam table, one word flashing like a neon sign in her mind.

Pregnant.

Stoically straightening her spine, she gathered her emotions into a nice, tight container and prayed that it would hold until she could get home.  After that, all bets were off. 

♫♥♫

Once in the car, Gus asked politely about her appointment, seemingly unaware that anything unusual had transpired in the downtown building behind them.

“It was fine, thank you.”  She infused as much enthusiasm into the sentiment as she could muster. 

A man of few words, Gus merely grunted and pulled into traffic.  “Headed home or back to the office?”

Checking her watch, she was that it was four o’clock.  She was almost finished with the outline and details of the Soul Kitchen project, but there was no point in pretending she could concentrate on it.  Keeping her thoughts at bay for an hour or so was doable, but when the silence of her office closed around her…

“Home, please.”

He obligingly pointed the vehicle in that direction. 

The short trip was spent gazing sightlessly out the side window, purposefully fighting to keep her mind blank.  The only thing to catch her attention was a young woman turning the corner at Richie’s building.  She was both pregnant and pushing a stroller.

Allegra blinked rapidly and groping for the door handle and wrenching it open in her haste to get out of the vehicle.

“Are you in for the evening, or should I hang around?” Gus inquired after her.

The wind carried her voice back into the car, as she had already stepped out onto the sidewalk.  “I’m in for the evening.  Thank you, Gus.” 

She slammed the car door and hurried into the building, seeking the solitude that the condo would provide.

♫♥♫

Finally she was inside the apartment, away from prying eyes.  Throwing her purse on the kitchen counter, she was drawn as always, to the bank of windows overlooking the city.  Down below, traffic was picking up as the working populace began the evening trek back to their homes.

A baby.

Overcome, she again placed her palm over the flat spot that would bloom with proof of the life growing inside her.

She was going to be a mother. 

A tiny, helpless baby was in there, completely and totally dependent on everything she did.  A part of her.  How could she possibly be unhappy about that? 

The answer was, she couldn’t. 

No, the baby wasn’t the source of the panic and distress that were beginning to claw their way to the surface.

Her hand pressed a little tighter as the tears she’d thought were gone began to roll down her cheeks.

It was the fact that she was going to have do to this alone.

She collapsed into the sofa, wearily resting her cheek against the plush red fabric.  The vast Philadelphia skyline still lay before her, but all she could see was Richie’s face.   Glowing  with excitement when the condom broke and he thought they’d made a baby.  Drawn in apprehension and disapproval when she wouldn’t take the morning after pill.  Relieved when she started her period.

Richie wanted a child, but he understandably wanted HIS child, and she couldn’t guarantee that’s what he’d get by staying with her.

Hot tears dripped from her eyelashes, plopping softly onto her bare hands, folded in her lap.  It wasn’t fair to wish he’d stay anyway.  Wasn’t fair to ask him.

Undeniably, he WOULD stay because he thought it was the right thing to do.  That’s just the type of man he was – he DID the right thing.  It was one of the things she loved most.

Which would be just fine if it turned out to be his baby. 

But what if it wasn’t?

As much as he would try to shun it, resentment would gradually build toward both her and the baby.  He would think time and again that if she’d just listened to him and taken Matt along, this wouldn’t have happened.  Or if she’d just listened to him and taken that pill, they wouldn’t be suffering this way.  That it was HER stubbornness got them into this mess.

And he would be right on all counts. 

It WAS her fault, and it was only right that SHE pay the consequences.

The individual tear drops turned into a steady flow, and her shoulders began to heave with depth of her sorrow.   Loneliness draped around her like a thick dark cloak, leaving her with only the bickering voices in her head for company. 

You knew this was a chance you were taking. 

I thought it was over already.

You should have known something wasn’t right with that last period.

HOW should I have known?

You’re a woman.  You know your body.

I think Richie would want to know.

Know what?  That there’ a 50/50 chance you’re carrying some psycho’s love child?

But it might be HIS!

Yeah.  Asking him to stay with you on the chance of ‘might’ is fair.

What am I supposed to do??

You do whatever you have to, but don’t make him pay for your selfishness.

I love him!

If you love him, you’ll do what’s BEST for him.

Ultimately, the argument ended with the same conclusion she’d already come to.  Her nose was stuffed up and her head throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her heart knowing what she would have to do.

Rising from the couch, she went into the bathroom to grab some tissues, pausing to blow her nose and wipe at her eyes before crawling fully-clothed into the big bed.  Curling into a fetal position, she stared out the window, watching and thinking as the daylight became dusk and turned to dark.

When the phone rang late that night, she reached for it with trembling fingers, knowing who was on the other end.

“Hello?” she answered around the lump in her throat. 

“How’s my girl?”

In that instant, his voice was a soothing balm that had the power to heal everything wrong in her world.  For a split second she wasn’t anything but a woman loved and in love.  How was she going to let this go? 

“I’m okay, how are you?”  She heard the hollow echo of her words, but had no power to control it.

It would have benefitted her to try a little harder.  She knew how emotionally intuitive he was, not just with her, but all of them, and his radar was right on target tonight.   Richie’s concern was immediate and complete.  “You don’t sound okay.  What’s wrong?” he probed gently. 

“Nothing,” she lied, silently praying for forgiveness.  “I’m just not feeling well.”

“Are you sick?  Running a fever?”

God, why does he have to be so sweet?  I can’t do this.

“No, no fever.  I’m sure I’ll be fine.”   Someday.

The emotions began trying to crowd their way out again, and she didn’t know how long she could hold them back.  A break down while she was on the phone certainly wasn’t going to help.  What was she going to do?

“Okay.  If you’re sure…?”

“Richie, I’m sorry.  I guess I forgot to charge my phone and it’s beeping at me.  I’m gonna have to go.”  Sniffing softly, she bid herself to hang onto control for just ONE more minute.

“Can’t you just plug-“

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.  Good night.”

She hurriedly tapped the button and disconnected the call.  With a strangled cry of despair, the phone went sailing across the bed and she buried her face into the pillow, sobbing.  How could she walk away from him?  How would she survive it?

Richie looked at the small screen with a frown of confusion, but the ‘call ended’ message left no room for doubt.  She’d hung up.

Okay, that was weird.  Why didn’t she just plug it in while we talked? 

Disappointed, he put his phone on the nightstand and tried to figure out what the hell just happened.  Naturally, as a man, his first thought for any type of irrational behavior was PMS.

He quickly tried to count.  She’d started her last period the day before the first Philly show on March 23, which meant she should start…  That was it.  She probably started.

At least it makes sense that it doesn’t make sense, Richie thought with a chuckle.  Looks like it will be a delayed welcome home.

Grimacing, he selfishly hoped that she had gotten the new birth control before she started her period.  A nice, romantic marriage proposal followed by sex the way God intended was his ultimate fantasy at the moment, and he wanted to indulge at the first opportunity.

I’ll call to check on her tomorrow at work and ask about the doctor.  Shit.  I can’t believe I didn’t remember.  That’s what I get for being obsessed over finding the perfect ring.

Grinning at the small jeweler’s box resting next to his phone, he reached over and turned out the light before flipping to his stomach.  With back-to-back shows and a sex marathon looming on the horizon, he should try and get some sleep while he could.

Good night, Sunshine.  I love you.