"Oh sweetheart." Your mother breathes as you stutter out the news,
"I know. I don't know what to do."
"Are you sure you are? How late are you?"
"I've only missed one, but I took three different tests and they were all positive."
"Have you seen your doctor yet?"
"No, not yet, I just found out a couple of days ago."
"What have you been doing that you haven't made an appointment?"
You don't want to voice it. You don't want to tell her what you almost did, you remember the look on her face when she found out before and you can't do that again.
"Honey, please tell me he didn't try to make you--"
"No, he didn't. It was all me. Last time... It just fixed everything right?"
"You know that isn't true. Unless you count that dog showing his true colors as 'fixing everything." You still harbor such wonder at how your mother manages to find fault with your ex when you were the one who made that decision. Didn't you?
"Does he know?" Your dad chimes in. "The father, I mean."
Your parents put you on speaker when you said you had something important you needed to talk about,
"Yeah, I told him almost as soon as I found out."
"Good. Have you talked about what you're going to do?"
"Not yet... I wanted to talk to you guys first."
"What do you need from us?" Your mom asks.
The weight of the situation settles heavily on your shoulders, you do your best to keep the tears out of your voice,
"Tell me what to do." You plead.
"Aw, hon this isn't one of those times. You and this young man are going to have to work things out on your own." Your mom admits sympathetically,
"Let us know what you decide. Whatever it is, we'll still be here." Your dad assures you.
"Thanks." You really do mean it, however weakly it comes out.
After a farewell, promising to call them once something is decided, you hang up and just sit. As long as you stay here, you aren't talking about it, not risking the repeat, not facing anything, not having to be strong.
But you can't stay here forever.
Sneaking your way into the kitchen, you see Sebastian leaning with his hands on the counter, back to the room, head hanging forward; he already looks strained. The floorboard under your foot creaks and he spins around,
"Hey," he sighs with an almost forced smirk, "nice chat?" You shrug.
He sets two mugs on the table, one with cocoa, one with tea. You want to get this over with,
"Can I ask you something before we do this?" He asks,
"Maybe." You're not sure you're up for many questions,
"Why didn't you go through with it?" Especially that one, so you try to skirt the question,
"Look, there's a lot you still don't know about me,"
"I understand that, but when you came back, why did you come to me? You could have gone straight to your parents, you could have gone to Amy... And why did you look so scared?"
"Really? The idea of this whole thing isn't really a walk in the park. You don't exactly look laid back right now yourself." He winces, knowing you're right,
"It was beyond that, though." He leans forward, almost thinking twice before letting his fingers graze your wrist, "please tell me what's wrong."
All the memories of those fights and the lonely nights that followed came rushing back to you so quickly that you couldn't even bring yourself to cry over them. As they resurfaced from their deep graves, they only numbed you to the history you were about to pour out. Because of course you would tell Sebastian. He was slowly becoming one of your best friends.
And at this point, he deserved to know.
"You remember that actor ex I mentioned a while back?"
"The one you always conveniently avoid telling me about? Yeah."
"Well, he was very... Persuasive. I told you he made it impossible for me to really trust actors. He was manipulative and dishonest and unfaithful, and whenever we were fighting, he would always managed to spin the situation in a way that would end up with me apologizing... but that wasn't even the worst of it." You take a deep breath, your parents were the only other people who knew this, you hadn't even told your best friend.
"We had been together about two years, and I had tried to bring up our future a few times, but he always brushed it off with some sort of 'lets just live in the moment' type speech, so I would let it drop. I thought we were in love and all that sad cliche crap. One thing is for sure, weren't careful enough... And I got pregnant."
He looks surprised but doesn't interrupt, "He never explicitly told me to get an abortion... At least I don't think he did... but he made it clear that, first of all, he never wanted children, and second, he wouldn't stick around if I had one. Even if it was his." Suddenly Sebastian's expression changes, he scoots his chair around the table and scoops you up, cradling you in his lap, hugging you close.
You can't breathe, but you slowly recognize that it isn't because of Sebastian's hug. It finally occurs to you that you're crying.
You can tell he has something to say, but he keeps it to himself,
"I tried to tell myself I didn't want it." You whisper, sniffling,
"But...?" He prompts when you go silent,
"But... I did." You sob, unable to contain the pitiful noise that escapes, "I thought I knew him. I thought we were forever... I thought I wanted us to be a family."
He comforts you as you cry, letting you pour out the pain from being made to let go of your near-family.
"Is that what you thought I wanted?" He finally asks quietly, "To cut ties and run?"
"Can you blame me?" You ask, trying to keep the venom out of your voice. He still winces, remembering his reaction, "The whole thing felt like the first time around and I just couldn't stand it."
"I'm so sorry I said all of that... As soon as you walked out the door, I realized it wasn't true. I was just scared."
You pull back to look at him,
"When you left I felt sick, like I couldn't have possibly handled the whole situation worse. While I don't think we have time for a baby, who does? This is something you have to make time for."
You look at him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking,
"But you're right. Maybe there isn't time for this because it isn't the right time.You know we don't actually have to do this, right?"
"What do you mean?" He asks warily,
"We don't have to raise a baby. We don't have to go through with this." Your voice sounds pitiful, like you're begging for something, but you don't know what. Are you wanting him to stay with you? Are you wanting your freedom? Do you just want things back the way they were a month ago: you in your apartment, alone, reading book after book, alone, and taking imaginary adventures, alone?
His eyes flash, looking almost frantic,
"Look, I know I don't get to tell you what to do with your body... But please don't go back there--"
"That's not what I meant. I just mean I--we don't have to raise a baby... We can put it up for adoption."
His expression goes blank, but something like disappointment flits behind his eyes,
"...is that what you want?" He asks slowly,
Yes...
It is...
Isn't it?
You stare straight through him, remembering what you saw at the clinic: the swaddled baby girl, the little boy in the backyard.
"...no..." You whisper, watching him carefully, preparing for the worst.
It never comes.
Instead you see a slight smile creep across his face, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek,
"Good," he whispers, so close his breath tickles your lips, "because I don't either." he leans forward, then pauses, waiting this time, giving you the choice to pull back or meet him halfway.
After a moment you realize this is actually what you want and you lean into him. The kiss is soft, meaningful, reassuring you as your arms find their way around his neck.
"You're sure about this?" You ask, breaking away,
"Positive." He smooths your hair back, "One of the things you made me realize when you walked out the other day is that I don't want to lose you." He opens his mouth to say more but then thinks better of it.
"So we're doing this?" There's a tremble in your voice, relief that you're not going this alone, anticipation of what's coming, the potential for disaster,
"We're doing this."
