to get here. I sneak in quickly, not wanting any of her neighbors to see me.
I don’t speak when I see her; I just pull her into a hug instead. When I let her go, that’s when I realize how much of a mess she is. Dark, baggy circles hang under her eyes. She’s still in her pajamas and her hair is up in a messy bun. This isn’t Caroline. She would never spend a day like this, not unless she was sick.
“Have you eaten anything?” I ask when I notice she somehow looks smaller instead of bigger despite being pregnant.
She shakes her head. I lead her into the kitchen and help her sit at one of the two barstools looking into her small kitchen.
I don’t bother to ask her what she wants; I just open her fridge and search for something healthy. She doesn’t have much food, though. Just eggs and milk and bread. I sigh as I take the eggs out and begin to make her scrambled eggs and toast.
“You have to start taking better care of yourself,” I say not looking at her as I scramble the eggs in a skillet.
“I’m trying,” she says weakly.
“You have to try harder. When is your next doctor’s appointment?”
“Not for a few weeks.”
“I’m going to hire you a chef and maid to help take care of things around here.”
She doesn’t object. She doesn’t say anything. I’m going to have to start checking on her more or she’s going to lose the baby, and as much as that would make my life easier, it’s not what I want. She wouldn’t ever forgive herself if she lost the baby.
When I finish making her breakfast, I place it in front of her and then I take a seat next to her.
She lifts the fork on autopilot and begins to eat but doesn’t look at me.
“What are you thinking about?”
“That I’m going to make a terrible mother.”
I grab her and force her to look at me. “You are going to make an amazing mother. You are not like your mother.” Just like I’m not like my father , I think.
She shakes her head, and I understand. I understand that is too hard to believe. I understand because I feel the same way. I’m afraid I’ll end up just like my father. And no child should be raised that way.
“I’m afraid you aren’t the father, and then I’ll have no one.”
I take a deep breath when I realize her fears are the opposite of mine. She fears I’m not the father. I fear I am. “No matter what, I’m going to be in this baby’s life. I’m not going to abandon you. I’ll help financially. I’ll help in every way you need.”
She tries to turn her lips up in a smile, but her lips don’t fully curl up. She still looks sad and worried.
“I’ll go get it,” she says getting up from the table despite only eating a couple of bites of her breakfast. I have to make her eat more when she gets back.
She comes back from her bedroom quickly with an envelope in her hand. I stand as she comes near me, and she hands me the envelope without looking at it. Instead, she stares at her feet as she wraps her arms around her stomach.
I turn the envelope over and am surprised to see it is still sealed. If it had been sent to me, I’m not sure I would have had enough strength to wait until she got here to open it.
“You ready?” I ask.
“Open it.”
I keep my eyes on her as I slip my finger under the fold of the envelope and slice it open. I watch as she closes her eyes in fear as her arms wrap tighter around herself.
I pull the piece of paper out of the envelope with surprisingly steady hands. Probably because I already know what it will say. I already know that no matter what it says, it won’t change how I feel about Caroline or Alex or this baby. It won’t change my actions. It will just change my future.
I skim the paper with my name at the top and with several numbers that don’t mean anything to me. I skim until I get to the bottom with the results. I skim until I see the number 99.998% probability.
I
I don’t speak when I see her; I just pull her into a hug instead. When I let her go, that’s when I realize how much of a mess she is. Dark, baggy circles hang under her eyes. She’s still in her pajamas and her hair is up in a messy bun. This isn’t Caroline. She would never spend a day like this, not unless she was sick.
“Have you eaten anything?” I ask when I notice she somehow looks smaller instead of bigger despite being pregnant.
She shakes her head. I lead her into the kitchen and help her sit at one of the two barstools looking into her small kitchen.
I don’t bother to ask her what she wants; I just open her fridge and search for something healthy. She doesn’t have much food, though. Just eggs and milk and bread. I sigh as I take the eggs out and begin to make her scrambled eggs and toast.
“You have to start taking better care of yourself,” I say not looking at her as I scramble the eggs in a skillet.
“I’m trying,” she says weakly.
“You have to try harder. When is your next doctor’s appointment?”
“Not for a few weeks.”
“I’m going to hire you a chef and maid to help take care of things around here.”
She doesn’t object. She doesn’t say anything. I’m going to have to start checking on her more or she’s going to lose the baby, and as much as that would make my life easier, it’s not what I want. She wouldn’t ever forgive herself if she lost the baby.
When I finish making her breakfast, I place it in front of her and then I take a seat next to her.
She lifts the fork on autopilot and begins to eat but doesn’t look at me.
“What are you thinking about?”
“That I’m going to make a terrible mother.”
I grab her and force her to look at me. “You are going to make an amazing mother. You are not like your mother.” Just like I’m not like my father , I think.
She shakes her head, and I understand. I understand that is too hard to believe. I understand because I feel the same way. I’m afraid I’ll end up just like my father. And no child should be raised that way.
“I’m afraid you aren’t the father, and then I’ll have no one.”
I take a deep breath when I realize her fears are the opposite of mine. She fears I’m not the father. I fear I am. “No matter what, I’m going to be in this baby’s life. I’m not going to abandon you. I’ll help financially. I’ll help in every way you need.”
She tries to turn her lips up in a smile, but her lips don’t fully curl up. She still looks sad and worried.
“I’ll go get it,” she says getting up from the table despite only eating a couple of bites of her breakfast. I have to make her eat more when she gets back.
She comes back from her bedroom quickly with an envelope in her hand. I stand as she comes near me, and she hands me the envelope without looking at it. Instead, she stares at her feet as she wraps her arms around her stomach.
I turn the envelope over and am surprised to see it is still sealed. If it had been sent to me, I’m not sure I would have had enough strength to wait until she got here to open it.
“You ready?” I ask.
“Open it.”
I keep my eyes on her as I slip my finger under the fold of the envelope and slice it open. I watch as she closes her eyes in fear as her arms wrap tighter around herself.
I pull the piece of paper out of the envelope with surprisingly steady hands. Probably because I already know what it will say. I already know that no matter what it says, it won’t change how I feel about Caroline or Alex or this baby. It won’t change my actions. It will just change my future.
I skim the paper with my name at the top and with several numbers that don’t mean anything to me. I skim until I get to the bottom with the results. I skim until I see the number 99.998% probability.
I
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