Page 12 of Pretty Little Disaster

“So, I’m definitely pregnant?” I check, focusing on the screen and feeling Nic’s grip on my hand get tighter.

“Oh, without a doubt.” He leaves the image frozen on the screen and retracts the probe, placing it back on the stand and taking off his gloves.

“Everything’s looking as it should so I won’t need to see you again until your twelve-week appointment unless, of course, you have any queries or the blood work we took earlier comes back with any problems.” He washes his hands. “I’ll get you a prescription written up for some prenatal vitamins. You can pick it up from Wendy and make your follow-up appointment on your way out.” Moving back toward the machine, he tears off the three images that have come out of the printer and hands them to a still stunned-looking Nic.

“Congratulations,” he tells us both with a wide grin before leaving us alone.

Nic says nothing as I move behind the screen and get back into my clothes, he remains silent, clutching the photos of our baby in his hand as we walk out to reception, and I pick up my prescription and make a follow-up appointment for six weeks time. I notice the way he watches one of the men help his heavily pregnant partner onto her feet when they get called in by one of the nurses, and I wonder what's going through his head.

He quickly rushes to get the door for me when I start walking toward it and, as I take my keys out of my purse, I prepare to say an awkward goodbye.

“You can keep those if you want.” I point to the pictures in his hand and he shakes himself out of his daze.

“What are you doing?” he asks as I open my driver's side door.

“I’m getting in my car, I really do have a lecture this afternoon,” I point out awkwardly. The guy is clearly overwhelmed, we’re better off talking about this when he’s gotten over the initial shock.

“Oh no, you're not.” He snatches the keys from my hand and drags me away from it, kicking the door shut behind him.

“What?” I snatch my hand away.

“You can’t drive that thing, it’s a fucking death trap.” He looks at me as if I’m acting like a crazy person.

“I think you’ll find I can, and it’s a perfectly safe, reliable car. I’ve had it since I was sixteen.”

“Exactly, it’s a rust bucket and you are not driving my kid around in a rust bucket.” He retakes my hand and starts marching me toward a truck.

“Nic, I can’t just leave my car here,” I protest.

“Sure you can, I’ll have someone come pick it up, you can put it in a museum or something.” He continues to drag me further away from it.

“You're not being rational. My car is fine. I need it to get me to college and to work.”

“You still want to work?” He stops moving and turns back to look at me.

“Ummm, yeah, my college fees don’t pay themselves and neither does the rent.” This is a typical example of how different our worlds are. Nic and Madalina have had very privileged lives, they’ve never had to worry about money.

“Lorna, you’re pregnant.” He holds up the images in his hand, in case I’d forgotten. “You can’t finish collegeandkeep your job, you have to take care of yourself.”

“I will take care of myself. I’ll be fine as I am, at least, until the last month or so.”

“No.” Nic shakes his head and opens the passenger side door of the truck he wants me to get into.

“What do you mean, no? You don’t get to tell me what to do.” I make that point very clear.

“Lorna.” He places one hand on the side of the truck and keeps his other hand on the door, caging me in. “You are pregnant with my kid.” His eyes stare deep into mine. “You’re my responsibility now, which means you do what I say. Now, get in the truck.”

“To go where?” I ask, feeling hopeless.

“It’s lunchtime, and you need to eat. I’m going to take you somewhere I can feed you and we can talk about how we're going to deal with this.” His tone sounds softer than usual and almost affectionate.

“Fine.” I find myself giving in to him because I can’t put it off any longer. We really do need to discuss how we’re going to handle this.

NIC

“Times like this it’s a real bummer that I can’t drink.” Lorna breaks the silence once the waiter has left us with a jug of water and a menu to look over.

“You good eating here? I mean, that receptionist gave you a leaflet with shit you can’t eat, right?” I’m still getting over the shock of finding out I’m going to be a father. I keep feeling like I have to get the picture out and look again to believe it.

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