Page 35 of In Her Shadow
The last month has been incredible. I feel like a whole new person. Ren makes me happy, and I don’t care if his apartment is in a rougher part of town than mine is. I don’t care if it has no ceiling and is infested with rats. I’m falling in love with him. I feel it happening more and more every day. Where he lives or where he’s from really doesn't matter to me.
I watch closer as I see him disappear between the old warehouse and the florist opposite. It strikes me as a little odd, as I’m sure that alley leads to nowhere. I remember when Mrs. Mooney lost her cat. I spent hours helping her look for him; all that was behind that warehouse was a tiny parking lot and some storage units.
I wait for a few more minutes to see if he comes back out, but there's no sign of him, and when I feel the nerves in my stomach getting more intense, I shake my head and head for the bathroom. I can’t put off taking that test any longer. If I’m pregnant, Ren and I are gonna have to talk about all the things we’ve been avoiding. I’ve always wanted to be a mom; all the memories I have of my mom, before she died, are fond ones. Iknow I could be a good mom myself, just from those memories alone.
I like to think it's a way I could make her proud.
I open the cabinet and take out the test, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I open the box and read the instructions. I’ve already made up my mind that if this turns out positive, I’m keeping it. I can’t think right now how Ren will react, if I do, I’ll back out, and I need to be brave and face up to what comes next.
I pee on the stick, like the instructions tell me to, then, popping the cap back on, I place it on the basin and pace the floor while I count the seconds out in my head.
I can’t afford a kid, and although Ren claims to earn money from investments, I get the impression he can’t either. This apartment wouldn't be big enough for all three of us to live in, that's if Ren would even want to live here. Maybe his obsession would wear off quickly once he found out how serious all this has become. I can’t imagine him being attracted to me the way he is now when I start getting fat.
I dread looking at the test, and when the time is far past being up, I summon enough courage to quickly snatch it up and look at the result.
I don’t expect to feel the relief I do when I see that it’s positive. This isn’t a good thing; it’s a disaster.
I’m pregnant by a guy I barely know. I’m broke, and yet I can’t keep the smile off my face.
I grip the edge of the basin and start to laugh, a nervous laugh that quickly turns into tears when I realize how scary all this is. Suddenly, I’m so railroaded with different emotions that I have to take a seat on the edge of the bath.
“I’m pregnant,” I tell myself, just to ensure the words sink in, and pressing my hand against my stomach, I find it impossible to believe that a whole other person is growing inside me.
I have no idea if Ren is gonna be mad or happy about this. What I do know is that I can’t put off telling him. I can’t go another second keeping all this to myself. This baby is ours, half of him and half of me, and he deserves to know about it. I quickly rush back to my bed, throwing on the first thing I can find, then grabbing my keys, I head out the door.
I march across the street toward the abandoned warehouse, taking the same alley Ren did, in the hope of finding him.
I’ve seen plenty of TikToks where the woman breaks the news to her guy that she’s pregnant in some grand spectacular way, but I can’t wait long enough to organize something like that. The women in those videos have been with their child's father for years; the babies they’re pregnant with are planned, and they know the response they’re gonna get will be a happy one.
I have no idea how Ren will respond to this.
I see a door slightly ajar and figure I won’t have to waste much more time wondering.
“Ren,” I call out as I step inside the old, abandoned warehouse. It’s creepy in here; the ground floor seems like it spans for miles and is empty apart from the steel reaching up through the ceiling, and as I take the stairs up to the second floor, I call out his name again.
“Ren?” My voice echoes, and when I get to the top of them and see a mattress made up on the floor in the corner of the room, I wonder if I’ve disturbed a homeless person's dwelling place.
I do a double-take and step a little closer at the walls when I realize that they are covered, floor to ceiling, with sketches.
Sketches of me.
Slowly, I take each one of them in, feeling confused when I see how I’ve been portrayed in them. Some are soft and pretty. Images of me looking over my shoulder, tucking my hair behindmy ears, and walking to work. There’s a close-up of my hands that includes the freckle Ren pointed out to me that day in the boiler room at work.
My eyes widen in shock when I discover ones of me cradling a huge, round stomach, and more close-ups of hands, and Ren cradling it, too.
I press my hand to my stomach, wondering if this is some kind of dream. Because all this can’t be real. I lean closer to the wall when I see darker images, the pencil strokes seem much more aggressive, and I see myself lying on a four-poster bed, with blood dripping from a cut on my thigh. Ren is lying between them with the knife in his hand. I grab it in my hand and rip it from the wall, clutching it tight to my chest as my breath gets harder and harder to catch.
“Eloise!” I spin around when I hear his voice and see him standing with just a towel around his waist, the one he must have been drying his hair with, falls to the ground when he realizes what's in my hand.
“What is this, Ren?” I ask, trying not to cry when I see how devastated he is that I’m here.
“I wanted to tell you…I…”
“But you didn’t. You didn’t tell me anything.” I look around at the hundreds of drawings surrounding us and start to feel light-headed. “What’s this?” I touch my free hand to the drawing of me, heavily pregnant in a wedding dress, it’s much bigger than all the others and really stands out.
“It’s the life I want to give you.” He smiles sadly. “One I used to fantasize about, but now..” He steps forward to reach out for me, and when I step back, he looks even more hurt.
“Ren, this is…It’s too much.” I look back at the picture in my hand and wonder why he’d want to hurt me like that. I know from past experiences with Ren that there is a fine line between pain and pleasure, but this is a different level.
