Page 118 of Mistaken Impression

His voice is quiet, and it cracks a little. My heart aches as I wait, wondering if he’s going to say anything else… but then the automated voice asks if I want to save the message. I decide against it. Hearing his voice over again won’t help… especially when it brought back so many memories. How could I forget the way he used to whisper to me when we made love, or the way he’d implore me to come… just for him? But how can I forgive him for his false accusations… for his unfounded anger?

I throw my phone down on the bed.

Why did he call? And why does he think I’d need him? No woman needs a man who won’t trust her.

We’re over. Like he said, it ended badly.

The last thing I needed was for him to remind me it was two weeks since we were in Vermont? I know how long ago it was. I’m not likely to forget that it was two weeks ago today that we woke up in our perfect cabin, gazing into each other’s eyes, knowing that what we’d done the night before had changed everything… knowing that making love without a condom…

“Oh… shit!”

I leap to my feet.

That’s what he meant. That’s why he made a point of saying it had been two weeks ago…

But why didn’t I think about it?

I snatch up my phone again, going to my calendar to count back the days, trying to remember when my period started. It was the week when the show was all about brunches, and it was on the Thursday night, because we’d been recording all day. I remember, after I’d told Mac about my period starting, and he’d ordered in a pizza for us, I was grateful that at least the Friday would be easier for me…

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine… oh, God… thirty.”

I’m late.

***

Mac

She’s not going to call.

That much is obvious.

It’s been fifteen days since I finally broke and phoned her. I’m still counting them. I might have tried to convince myself that Ella would call if she needed me, but then as I paced around the flat on that Saturday morning, I reasoned, she might still think I was angry with her. What if she didn’t feel she could contact me? She might have left me. She might have been the one to walk away, but putting it all on her to get in touch wasn’t the most honourable way of going about things. And I had always tried to be honourable… at least until that last day.

That last moment at my flat wasn’t the most honourable thing I’ve ever done… but I was hurt.

Like that’s any excuse.

I had to wait for it to be a reasonable time of day in Boston, but by one-thirty, I couldn’t take anymore. I knew that would only be eight-thirty in the morning for Ella, but I couldn’t stop myself, no matter how hard I tried. Even as I was connecting the call, I kept telling myself it was a mistake… another one to add to my already substantial list, but what else could I do? I had to talk to her, although I was still worried she’d think I wasn’tinterested in her, but only in the baby we might have created… which was why I kept telling myself I couldn’t mention it.

What I hadn’t anticipated was that she wouldn’t take my call… that she’d let it ring out and go to her voicemail. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen that coming. Maybe because it hadn’t occurred to me that she might not be missing me, like I’m missing her, but as the automated message finished, and I heard the beep, I knew I had to find some other way to get my point across, without actually saying the words ‘pregnant’, or ‘baby’. Even if she wasn’t willing to speak to me, I didn’t want her to think I didn’t care about her.

I was surprised by how hard it was to talk, though… even to a machine. My voice kept breaking up, and although I struggled to finish what I was saying, I’m pretty sure it made sense… and her silence can only lead me to one conclusion.

She’s not pregnant.

She’d have called by now, if she was.

I sigh, trying not to think about that, and how it makes me feel, and I put the kettle on, reaching for the tea bags, to find the container is empty. There are some more in the cupboard and I empty the box into the container, turning around to discover my recycling bin is overflowing. It’s cold and I’ve been putting off this task since yesterday morning… but I can’t delay any longer, and I grab the bin, carrying it through to the front of the house, where I open the door.

“Good morning.”

I look up, hearing Henry’s voice, to find he’s staring down at me from the steps above.

“Oh… hello.”

“I haven’t seen you for a while. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

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