Drowning in Sight of Land

“He’s in love with you.” He’s in love with you. He’s in love with me. He isn’t. He doesn’t know me well enough to be in love with me. My mind was like a racetrack, thoughts whizzing by so quickly I couldn’t process them. I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to just put everything out in the open. No shame. I didn’t get pregnant on my own. He had to be understanding, he always was.
I didn’t actually see him for three days. The long hours in the kitchen were taking their toll and my feet and back were constantly sore. All I could do was sleep and work. They don’t tell you that about pregnancy. They never tell you that even in the beginning when you’re still physically in the same general shape you were in before, you still feel like a giant nauseous bruise all the time.
We had a few days off in Vienna so I took the opportunity to finally see something of the world for once. A few of us did the tourist thing and visited Kunsthistorisches Museum and St. Stephen’s Cathedral. The architecture was stunning. I felt so miniscule standing in those buildings, taking in hundred of years of history and art. My problem felt smaller too. For the first time in weeks, I felt calm.
When I returned to the hotel that night, energized by my day, I rang Harry. I didn’t want to text. I wanted to hear his voice and hear if he was actually interesting in speaking to me or not.
“Yes.” He answered sharply.
“Harry, love.” I cleared my throat, a lump rising quickly. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”
He was silent for a moment. I wasn’t sure if he’d hung up or not. “I’d like to talk to you too. Come up?” His tone was inviting. I had missed it. I had missed talking things out with him. He was one of my closes friends. The person I told every tiny truth to. He deserved to know.
I must have stood at his door for five minutes before I finally knocked. I had a speech planned but I had already forgotten it. My jeans felt too tight and my hair heavy. My body was rebelling against me. Fight or flight I suppose.
He opened the door in sweats and a Rolling Stones shirt. White was such a good color for him. “Come in.” He looked like he knew something was going to go down. I eyed him suspiciously as we sat down on the couch. He turned off the tv and wrung his hands together.
“I don’t want to do this here.” I jumped up. “Lets sit outside. I need air.” My neck was sweaty and I could feel my cheeks getting warm. He followed me wordlessly out to the balcony.
“Better?” He asked, sliding the door closed quietly. I nodded in response, swallowing hard. “What do you want to talk about? What going on with you?”
I must have repositioned myself a million times in a span of 30 seconds but I just couldn’t get comfortable. I settled on sitting cross-legged on the sun lounger and looked out at the black night sky. “I’m pregnant.” The words tumbled from my lips before I could second-guess myself. I didn’t mean to just say it, but maybe it was better that way.
I didn’t look at him but I could see him sit back in his seat, more like fall, dramatically from the corner of my eye. “Are you sure?” He questioned, his tone hushed.
“I’m very sure. Got the doctor’s note to prove it.” I glanced over to see him on his back with his knees drawn up to his chest and one arm wrapped around them, the other hand covering his mouth.
“How-how long have you known?” he spoke more clearly now, rolling to his side a bit to look at me.
“The day I stopped talking to you was the day I found out.” I admitted. It sounded as messed up as it was and I hated even saying it.
“Why did you stop talking to me? Why didn’t you just tell me?” His eyebrows were raised, widening his eyes. He looked so innocent and hurt. “That was a month ago. Why?”
I closed my eyes tight, feeling tears coming. I hate crying in front of people. “I didn’t want you to be mad or hate me. I don’t know, Harry. I’m sorry.” I choked out.
He stood from his chair and I expected him to go inside and leave me there alone. I was ready to break down. I was ready for the worst. Instead he sat down next to me and put an arm over my shoulder, squeezing me into him.
“I could never hate you, baby.” He whispered into my hair, pressing a hard kiss to the side of my head. He sat back, his arm still over me. “So what do we know?”
“What?” I spoke through my tears, surprised and confused and lost in my own mind.
“You said you’ve seen a doctor. What did they tell you? How far along are you?” He sounded almost happy.
I looked up at him with a little more shock on my face than I meant, my mouth hanging open. “I’m, uh, eleven weeks yesterday. Healthy. All is well, I suppose, in that respect.” I suppressed my sobs, but I knew I sounded downright pathetic.
“That’s good.” He stated bluntly, wiping a tear from my eye with his thumb. “Are you feeling well?” He look at me with pity, a tiny empathetic smile on his face.
“Not really. I don’t feel like I need to be sick all the time anymore but now I’m just….I don’t know, sore?” I took a deep breath, willing myself to stop blubbering. “Like I just ache. It’s getting better though.”
“Eleven weeks.” He looked out at the dark landscape over the railing, raising his chin to slowly scratch his neck. “When are you due?”
“The end of December. The 22nd.” It felt to strange to discuss things like my due date and pregnancy pains with him. I had been expecting a fight. I don’t know why. He’s not even the type. I just assumed and I was so completely and dreadfully wrong.
“Ah!” He clapped his hands on his knee. “A Christmas baby. That’s lovely.”
“I’m, uh, I’m not going to keep the baby.” I stuttered out. “I’m going to give it up for adoption.”
“What? Why?” He stared at me in shock. “You’ve already decided?”
“I can’t keep it, Harry.” I tried my best to sound logical. It was the best plan I could come up with. I didn’t want to put a damper on the mood, but I couldn’t sit around and idly dream about some magical future where we knew what we were doing. “I can’t be a mum. I’m only twenty. I’d make a wretched mum.”
“I’m only 21 but I think I could be a dad.” he argued.
“You want to be a dad at 21?” I asked him in genuine surprise. “You want to bring a baby into all of this mess?”
“This mess is my life and I happen to love it.” He was getting heated. I had insulted him without even knowing and now he was angry. “I know it isn’t ideal, but what is all of this for if we have a chance to have a family and we don’t take it?”
“A family!” I spat out more loudly than I had intended. “We aren’t even in a relationship and now you want to be a family and you want me to be a mum? You’re delusional, Harry!”
“We could be!” He yelled back, matching my tone. “We could be together!”
“No.” It was all I could muster. I didn’t have a reason or compelling reply, just simply no.
“Why not?” He squeezed my hand tightly in his, trying to make me react. “Why can’t we just try? I’m only asking you to try, Malu. Just feel it out with me and we can decided all of this together. We’ve got plenty of time.”
“It isn’t deciding if you’ve got your mind made up.” I stated with finality. I knew the argument wasn’t over but I was certainly over it. My heart and mind couldn’t take any more for the night. I wanted to shut down and shut off. I needed to sleep.
“I could say the same to you.” He shot back, but he didn’t sound angry anymore. He sounded exhausted too.
We sat silent for several minutes, taking in the sounds of the city around us. Nine floors below there were people laughing in the street, the sound carrying all the way back up to us. Car horns blasted in the distance. The faint sounds of traffic lulled like a steady pulse through all of it.
“This is our first actual argument you know.” I laid my head on his shoulder and wiped the running mascara from under my eyes.
“A milestone.” He chuckled softly. “It had to happen eventually.”
“What are we going to do, Harry?” I knew he didn’t have an answer. It had barely set in for me and I had known for a month. There was no way it had set in for him.
“We’re going to go to bed.”

Notes