Page 3 of Hold Us Close
“Layla? What’d she say?” I hear my aunt’s voice. It’s coming through the phone speaker on the counter right next to me but it sounds a million miles away.
“I can’t. I can’t have surgery,” I whisper. My eyes fill with tears because I already know from the look on Landen’s face how angry he’s going to be. “Not for the next eight months or so anyways.”
“What?” they both ask at the same time.
This isn’t how I wanted to tell him. I wanted it to be private. Special. But everything’s ruined. Because of me and my stupid defective brain.
“I’m pregnant.”
Ihave no idea how much time passes as I stand there staring at my girlfriend. Thank God the human body will keep breathing and blinking and beating all on its own. Somewhere in the distance I hear Layla ending the phone call with her aunt. I struggle to listen as she promises the woman ten times that she will call her later.
I glance down to see if my body is vibrating. The steady hum of shock thrums through me and it seems like it must be.
“Still up for that shower?” Her lips are moving, so I know it’s her talking. But I’m already underwater. I blink at her.
“Um.”
“Yeah, I figured.” She huffs out a breath and leans against the counter. “Landen, I was going to tell you tonight. At dinner. I went to the doctor at student health last week. I’m almost four weeks along.”
Four weeks. The rewind button in my brain must’ve been pressed because I see the highlight reel of the last four weeks in reverse. Four weeks ago I was home for a few nights between games. The night before I left to go to Milan, she made spaghetti. Because it’s my favorite. Cheesecake for dessert. We didn’t make it. I ended up eating my piece off of her on the living room floor.
My mind searches for an alternate version of reality. One where I stop licking cherry glaze off her stomach and go grab a condom. Yeah. I didn’t. My brain can’t find the memory of that part because it isn’t there. We made love over and over until we passed out on the floor. I almost missed my flight the next morning.
“Landen. Please. Say something.” Layla’s ocean-colored eyes sparkle up at me like fine gemstones. But my expression darkens them. “Or don’t. But just know I’m not unhappy about this. I’m excited. And nothing you say is going to change that.”
I take a deep breath and tell myself to reach out to her. Hold her. Reassure her that we’ll figure this out together. My father’s voice is loud and thunderous in my head, stopping all forward motion.
You ruin everything.
It’s been so long since I heard it that I’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.
“Ineed to go for a run,” Landen says. His eyes are unfocused and his fists are clenched. My head is spinning from the sudden change. One minute everything was perfect and now it’s a mess.
“You just got home,” I say, unable to keep the soft sound of pleading out of my voice. “I thought we were going to dinner.”
“Just order in. I’m not hungry.”
My eyes widen in shock. I mean, we’ve had fights. We’ve yelled and slammed doors. He doesn’t like me taking night classes, says that it’s unsafe. When I signed up for one so I could volunteer with Bridging the Gap during the day, he nearly lost his mind. But this is different. It’s not usually me causing the rage he tries so hard to outrun.
Until now.
I stand there, at the kitchen counter, in the spot where my life just went to crap in zero to fifteen seconds and watch him grab his T-shirt and walk out. I flinch at the sound of our door slamming shut.
For a minute, I’m overcome by loneliness. I was excited about telling him, nervous, but looking forward to it. Mostly. And now I can’t swallow. Can’t fight off the tears that well up so fast they’re falling faster than I can wipe them.
He left. Left me alone. Except…I’m not alone. Glancing down, I realize I’m already cradling my stomach with my arm.
“Daddy will be back, baby. I promise.”
It’s after midnight when I hear him come in. I hold my breath and wait. Surely he’ll come crawl into bed, apologize, and hold me. We’ll talk about our fears, reassuring each other that we’re in this together. By the time we fall asleep, everything will be okay. That’s what I tell myself as I release the breath my lungs were holding hostage.
We’ll keep each other still because that’s what we’ve always done.
I listen to the sounds of doors opening and closing. Hear the shower turn on. And off a few minutes later. Straining, I can barely make out the sounds of him fumbling around our small apartment. But I never hear him come in the bedroom. I don’t hear it because it doesn’t happen. He doesn’t even open the door to check on me. Which is so unlike him it makes my chest ache.
A lump rises in my throat as the apartment falls silent. We have a second bedroom with an old bed and a computer desk in it. The realization that he’s decided to sleep in there hits hard and provokes a fresh wave of tears.
I let my arm out from under my pillow. My hand slides across the cold sheets where he should be.
