Joanna tries to gauge Wendy's facial expression, but Wendy looks past her as if she isn't even there. She exhales, and tries to approach the conversation delicately.

"We have to talk about it eventually," Joanna points out.

"I don't see why."

"You know why," Joanna argues.

"I don't want to do this now," Wendy insists.

"Too bad. How was your appointment today?"

"It was even worse than I expected."

"How so?"

"It sucked," she replies, childishly.

"What sucked about it?"

"Every single moment of it."

"Can you be more specific?"

"I could."

"Wendy, come on."

"I don't even know how to begin to process all of this."

"I will help you."

"Joanna I am not like you. I am not maternal. I have absolutely no maternal instincts. I can't do this."

"So he confirmed…"

Wendy cuts her off, "I have somehow managed to get myself knocked up," she confirms.

"I can understand why you're upset."

"Upset doesn't even begin to cover it. I am pissed," she admits.

"Okay."

"And confused," she adds.

"What did he say?"

Wendy breaks eye contact as she shrugs, "Everything looked normal."

"That's good."

She chokes back tears, "I guess."

"So you got to see it?"

"Unfortunately, yes," she nods, "And I heard the heartbeat."

"Wendy I know that you are…"

The vein in her forehead begins to pulsate, "You don't know anything."

"I know that it never gets easier. It is always scary, no matter how many times you do it."

"You get eternity. I get this one life. I could die tomorrow."

"Wendy…"

Wendy shoves her chair back, and leaves the kitchen. She climbs the stairs to her bedroom, and slams the door behind her. She sits on the edge of her bed, in silence. The reality of the situation begins to crash down around her. She feels confused, and angry, and overwhelmed. She leans back on the bed, while her legs dangle over the edge. The tears begin to well up in her eyes. She touches her abdomen, and then retracts her hand as if she's touched hot coals.

"This can't be happening," she tells herself. Her mind races as she tries to make sense of everything. She sits back up. She moves towards the head of the bed. She stops at the bedside table, and pulls open the drawer it contains. She reaches her hand inside of the drawer, and pulls something out. She takes the images, and spreads them out on her bed. She carefully studies each one of them.

She is so consumed by her own thoughts, and emotions that she doesn't hear the creaking floorboard, or the sound of her door opening. Joanna stands in the door way, just watching her. She clears her throat, and Wendy spins towards her.

"What are you doing?" Wendy questions defensively.

"I came up here to check on you."

"Please go."

"No," Joanna insists, moving closer.

Feeling completely defeated, Wendy takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Joanna takes a seat next to her. Wendy grabs one black and white image from the many strewn across her bed. She glances at the picture, and then hands it to Joanna.

"I still can't believe it," she admits.

Joanna smiles as she stares at the picture, "I think that you're going to have to start believing it."

"I don't want to believe it. I never wanted this. I can't do this."

"I suppose that you don't have to. No one is saying that you have to. You could choose not to, if you wanted."

"I don't know what I want," she admits.

Weeks later, she stands in front of her mirror, trying to pick out something to wear on her date. She tosses selection, after selection back onto her bed. She sighs in frustration, feeling defeated. She wears a pair of yoga pants, and a t-shirt. She studies her reflection in the mirror. Her t-shirt is tighter than she remembers. She turns to the side. From the side the changes are much easier to see. She finds it more difficult to deny with each passing day. She pushes the thought from her mind, and continues to get dressed.

She meets Tommy at a restaurant for dinner. He smiles when he sees her. He pulls her chair out, and she takes a seat. She wears a little black dress. She silently marvels at the fact that she can still fit into it. Unbeknownst to her Joanna spent the past two days carefully taking the dress out.

"You look beautiful," he admits.

"Thank you."

The waiter comes, and brings them drinks. He pours a couple of glasses of wine. Wendy tries to conceal the panic that has begun to set in. She quietly asks for a glass of water.

By the end of the meal it is obvious to Tommy that she is hiding something. He glances at her plate, and then to her wine glass. He furrows his brow.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why?"

"You barely touched your food. You can order something else, if you don't like it."

"I guess I just wasn't as hungry as I thought I was."

"Oh. You didn't like the wine?"

She stares at the untouched glass of red wine. "I should have told you, I am not really a fan of red wine. It gives me a headache," she fibs.

"I'll order some white…"

She cuts him off, "That's not necessary."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she nods.

"Really?"

"Are you finished?" She quizzes.

"Yes," he nods in confirmation.

"Then we should go."

"Okay," he eyes her suspiciously.

He walks her home. The walk is mostly silent. He breaks the silence less than a block from the house, just when she thinks that she's in the clear.

"Wendy are you sure that you're okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem distracted lately."

"I'm sorry."

"Is something on your mind?"

"Just some family stuff," she stretches the truth.

He stops her, "You're sure?"

She nods, "Yes."

"You would tell me if something was wrong?"

"Of course," she lies.