I wrote this some time ago, so if anyone spots any inconsistencies, let me know, please… on with Bella's plight…

My mother was out when I got home. I grabbed the phone, before I could think about it too much, and dialed Jacob's house for what felt like the hundredth time in the last couple of days. His dad Billy answered on the second ring, and I nearly choked. Jacob's father had never really liked me—he tolerated me, at best. I always thought it had something to do with the fact that he wanted someone who was Quileute to be with his son.

"Um, hi… is Jacob home?" I tried not to sound pregnant.

"Just a minute." I heard her call out to him. Muffled whispers.

"Bella, hi."

"Hey." This conversation felt familiar. "What are you doing?"

"Writing a paper for my Economics class." He had graduated early, and was working on a graduate business degree. It never failed to impress.

"Oh. Well, I just wanted to tell you." I cleared my throat. "I went to the doctor today."

"You went already? By yourself? I thought you were going to let me know first."

I couldn't tell if he was angry or not. "Yeah. So… the test was right. I'm pregnant." No fuss, no crying on my part for once. It didn't seem like last time, for which I was grateful.

"You're pregnant," he repeated. He sounded a bit more shocked than he had a right to, considering.

"I saw the baby, Jacob, on the ultrasound, you know? It's tiny, but it's there." I took a deep breath. "I heard its heartbeat. It was going really fast, but the doctor said that was good, that it was normal." I felt my eyes well up, remembering.

"Well, I guess that's good, isn't it?" His voice was slightly remote, which needled me into my reply.

"I have another appointment, a month from now. You're coming, right?"

"What's the date?"

"February 13th, in the afternoon. Oh, I forgot to tell you, I'm starting work part-time at the library, as an assistant."

"You're working?"

"And studying. Classes start next week." I nearly sighed at the thought, then checked myself. Whining didn't help. I needed the job; God knew what might happen in a few more weeks. Like when I told my parents and the crap hit the fan.

"I might have class myself that day. I'm not sure." I thought his evasiveness might be considered normal. This was a guy, after all, who was going to be a father. At the tender age of 22. But then, so was I.

Tired of the exchange, I let it go. "Fine. We'll see about that later. I just wanted to share the news." I paused. "Was it good news?"

"I'd like to think so." That was a little more like the Jacob I knew, and loved.

"I'm glad. So, we'll talk tomorrow, okay?" It was barely seven o'clock, and I was fighting a numbing exhaustion, both inside and out.

"Okay. I'll call you. Bye."

"Bye." The line went dead before the words were halfway out of my mouth. I hated the stupid phone.

--

I swallowed the huge vitamin pill, washing it down with apple juice. I took a half-hearted bite from a granola bar, fighting the nausea. I had five minutes left on lunch break at the library and things weren't looking good for my no-throwing-up strategy.

I was not a morning person. Having to get up every day at six did not sit well with me; although I was grateful that the work was not really demanding. I was out by two, but then I shuttled myself across campus to make class from three to seven. But I did it nevertheless, because it made me feel more normal. I tried to convince myself it would have gone down exactly the same way even if I hadn't been pregnant.

The thought "I'm pregnant" now seemed applied to everything in my life. It flashed across my mind like a single word, i'mpregnant. As in, I should exercise a little bit more because i'mpregnant, or maybe, I shouldn't eat this or do that because i'mpregnant. I had given up on what was logical or rational some time ago, feeling like perhaps I had moved a little bit closer to the center of the universe.

I had bought pre-natal vitamin pills, as prescribed by the doctor. They were these enormous pills, practically half the size of my pinkie finger. I took them at the library, every morning, where my parents couldn't see. I worked very hard at the library; according to the dates set by the obstetrician, I was almost 10 weeks along. Two more weeks and I would finish the first trimester of my pregnancy. And I still hadn't told Charlie and Renée.

But first things first. I sat down and with Alice and Angela at the coffee shop, and broke the news to them. I explained the options I had to choose from. They were sweet and supportive, as I knew they would be—even a little bit excited at the prospect of a niece or nephew. Alice immediately offered to let me stay with her, if the worse came to pass. As soon as I processed their reactions, I felt a little bit lighter. Even if they couldn't do anything immediate to help my situation, just having them know was enough; I would know that I had their support in whatever lay ahead.

I trudged through day after day in the library. Once, during my break, I headed to the machine for a snack. Waiting for the cookies to drop, I suddenly felt faint and little black spots clouded the edge of my vision. I couldn't have been that hungry; I felt my heart race and then the linoleum was rushing towards my face. Thankfully, before I hit the ground, one of the other assistants caught me from behind. He was talking rapidly in my ear, telling me to breathe slowly, but he sounded very far away. With his arm around my waist (and one i'mpregnant thought) he half-walked, half-dragged me to the campus nurse's office. While she took my pressure, I debated whether to tell her I was pregnant, since it would explain the fainting spell. I decided not to make a big deal out of it, and lied through my teeth when she asked for the possible causes.

I thought back to the last time Jacob and I had been together. A few days after our conversation, the winter evening had been surprisingly kind, cool with the barest hint of a chill; we sat on rocking chairs in his makeshift garage. While Jacob drank a beer, and I chewed some ice, we discussed possible names. We both hoped for a girl, especially me. I proposed a few names, amongst them Elizabeth, my favorite. He wanted Julia, after the Beatles' song. I suggested Jacob Alexander for a boy, but he argued against naming the baby after himself. We laughed as we considered a few names seriously, discarded many, and finally settled on two: Gabriel, if it was a boy, and Julia Elizabeth, if it was a girl. I remembered how light-hearted I had felt, for the first time in weeks. I held on tight to that memory.

Then, another recollection flashed through my mind, one that I had suppressed with unease. Before I stood up to leave that night, I reached over impulsively, and took his hand in mine. I placed it on my belly, although it was still unnoticeable. I smiled gently, imagining the baby might sense us. I glanced at Jacob, and caught a flicker of a wince cross his face. His hand twitched beneath mine, and he pulled it back quickly. I had tried to erase the hurt from my features. Why, I had no idea.

I shook my head, scattering memories. Screw it, I thought. Time was running out, and Jacob still couldn't tell me anything for certain. And that was what I needed right then, certainty. Reassurance on his part that he would be with me through everything, by my side, and that no matter how scared we might both be, everything would be okay.

As soon as I left my last class, I texted Jacob: We need to talk. What time will you be home?

He texted back, and the short message seemed ominous: Come by at 10.

How does one not sound pregnant? I wonder… LOL! R&R!