Ingrid is out running errands at dinner time. She becomes the focus of conversation, despite her absence. Joanna sits at the head of the kitchen table with Wendy to her right, and Freya to her left. Freya looks at her plate for a moment, but it doesn't hold her attention. She tilts her chin upwards, and turns towards her mother.
"I think that we should tell Ingrid," Freya suggests.
"She will find out soon enough," Joanna insists.
Freya shoots Wendy a look, as if to say 'Help me out here,'. Wendy clears her throat.
"Maybe Freya has a good point."
Joanna throws a questioning look in her direction, "Meaning what?"
"I just think that maybe it would be better for her to be prepared. There is no telling how she is going to react to being totally blindsided by something like this. Have you considered what the fallout is going to be when she finds out that we knew, and none of us told her?"
"It isn't our place," Joanna argues.
"We should protect her," Wendy insists.
"We should protect ourselves from her wrath. She probably won't speak to any of this when she finds out."
"Maybe she won't find out," Joanna suggests.
"Jo, do you really believe that?" Wendy cocks an eyebrow.
"Well I certainly don't plan on telling her."
"How are you going to explain to her why you won't deal the deck for her?"
Freya continues with Wendy's line of thought, "Or why you won't allow anyone else to, either?"
"I know that she is going to be angry at me, for a while, but eventually she will understand," Joanna responds.
"And you're willing to take that risk?" Wendy questions.
"It is a risk that I have to take."
"Why?" Freya's voice grows louder.
"Because it isn't my place to tell her. This is something that she has to figure out on her own."
"You going to let her do this all on her own? She is completely miserable, and you refuse to tell her why," Wendy growls.
"She's pregnant, that's why," Joanna snaps.
"If you won't tell her, then I will," Wendy insists.
"You can't tell her. She has to find out on her own."
"Why can't I tell her?"
"Please, Wendy," Joanna begs.
"Why does it matter if she finds out tonight, or tomorrow morning?"
"Just trust me," Joanna implores.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to trust you," Wendy replies.
Their conversation is abruptly interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and closing. Footsteps move towards them, and Ingrid appears in the kitchen with them. She surveys the scene around her. The three women sit in silence, in front of their untouched dinner. She sits her bag on the floor.
"Did I miss something?" Ingrid questions.
Freya doesn't respond, instead she pushes her chair away from the table, and leaves the room. Wendy follows her out of the room. Ingrid lowers herself into Wendy's vacant seat.
"What was that all about?" She queries.
"They are upset with me."
"What did you do, now?"
"I just try to reason with them. Neither one of them are fond of reason, or logic."
"They really seemed pissed."
"They will get over it."
"Why is it that every time I walk into a room the three of you are completely silent?"
"I suppose we have just run out of things to say."
"Or you don't want me to hear what you're saying. What is going on?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Please, tell me," Ingrid begs.
"You will find out soon enough."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Joanna changes the subject, "Your plate is in the microwave."
"I'm not hungry."
"You have to eat something."
"Stop worrying about me, I eat when I'm hungry."
"Ingrid it is natural to feel uncomfortable with the changes that…"
Ingrid cuts her off, "That has nothing to do with why I'm not eating. I am not hungry."
"You're not hungry, or you're afraid to eat, because you get sick every time that you do?"
Ingrid storms out of the room, and heads up the stairs to her room. Hours later Joanna climbs the stairs to check on her. Once she's satisfied that Ingrid is asleep she descends the stairs, and goes into the dining room. She pulls out her cards, and deals them once again. She stares at the cards, with a look of dissatisfaction. She collects them, and shuffles repeatedly. She deals them again with the same result.
Ingrid rises early the next morning, hoping to leave the house before anyone notices. She tiptoes around the upstairs. When she's finally dressed, and ready to go she heads down the stairs. She avoids each creaking stair with grace. She makes it to the bottom of the stairs, and is careful not to step on the squeaky floor board. She is successful in her mission. She makes her way to the front door with the grace of a gazelle. She makes it to the front door. She is afraid to exhale as she grips the doorknob.
"Are you trying to sneak out?" A voice questions her.
She sighs in frustration, and turns around, "What are you doing up this early?" She responds.
"I couldn't sleep."
"I didn't expect you to be up at this hour," she admits.
"I know you expected your mother, but between the two of us, I laced her evening cup of chamomile with a little something extra."
"Thank you."
Wendy steps forward, and wraps her arms around her. She hugs her tight for a few seconds, and then lets her go, "It's okay to be scared," she reminds her.
"I know."
"And nervous," she adds.
"I know."
"If you want me to go with you, I will. No one has to know."
"I'll know."
"So, that's a no?"
"I have to do this on my own," she insists.
"I am here if you need me."
"Thank you."
"And I would like to remind you that you don't have to do everything on your own."
"I have to do this on my own."
"Okay," she nods as Ingrid pulls the door open.