"I barely made it into the office. I puked in the trash can the second the door closed," she admits.
"At what point are you going to talk about this with someone?"
"Who says that I haven't?"
"I know that you haven't."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"So you're just going to let it consume you?"
"Harriet…"
"Mac, please. I got a call from you at three o'clock in the morning, and came to get you from the hospital. When we got here your garage was a crime scene, and they took your car for evidence. You took two days off work, and came back. You lied to everyone, and said that you crashed your car into a tree. I saw the look on your face that night, I know that you didn't hit a tree."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Anything."
She swallows hard, "I'm pregnant."
"What?!"
"Please don't make me repeat that."
"You're pregnant?"
Sarah nods.
"When did you find out?"
"This morning," she admits.
"I don't know what to say."
"Neither do I."
"Are you sure?"
"I took half a dozen tests," she reveals.
Harriet studies the look Mac's face. Mac doesn't say anything. The tears begin to stream down her cheeks.
"It's okay," Harriet reassures her.
"No, it's not. None of this is okay. I don't think that I can do this. I…"
"Mac?"
"I don't know how this could have happened," she adds.
"What do you mean?"
"This shouldn't be happening."
"What do you mean it shouldn't be happening?"
"It isn't possible," she sobs.
Harriet furrows her brow, "What makes you say that?"
"I did everything that I was supposed to do."
Harriet scoots towards her, "What do you mean?"
"I can't be pregnant. I don't know…" she trails off.
"You don't know what?"
"I don't know who the father is," she responds, hysterically.
"What do you mean?"
"Something went wrong."
"What went wrong?"
"Everything," she estimates.
"I don't understand."
"I took the pill."
Harriet's heart sinks, "You don't think that there is any possibility that the baby is Harm's?"
"He left five weeks ago."
"I know."
"And for the six months before that we were sleeping in separate rooms. That night I thought I could convince him to stay. I asked him to stay. I thought that…" she stops mid-sentence.
"Mac?"
"Four weeks, and four days ago... I took the pill. This shouldn't be happening."
"Sarah, please," he begs her.
"I'm tired," she tells him.
"Why won't you talk to me?"
"I have to be up early in the morning," she insists.
"For court?"
"Yes."
"Why are you going to court?"
"It's late, and I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"You expect me to just leave?"
"You can sleep on the couch if you want," she answers.
"The couch? What about the guest room?"
"You can't sleep in there they just painted it this evening."
"How many rooms did you have repainted?"
"The other three bedrooms."
"Why?"
"I didn't like the wall color. That is all of the reason that I need."
She tosses and turns the entire rest of the night. He makes a resolution to make the best of a sticky situation. He retires to the couch without any argument. In an unexpected turn of events he ends up with a sleeping buddy. Just as he manages to get comfortable on the couch Sydney jumps on top of him. She worms her way into a spot between him, and the back of the couch.
When he wakes up he finds Sarah sitting in the kitchen reading the newspaper. He walks over to the cabinet above the coffee maker. He opens the cabinet drawer, and peers inside. He finds the cabinet void of coffee. He furrows his brow.
"Mac?"
"Huh?" She looks up from the article that she's reading.
"There is no coffee in here."
"Sorry," she apologizes.
"How did you run out of coffee?"
She swivels around, on the stool that she's on. She looks at her stomach, and then at him, "I haven't drank any coffee in a while."
"Right," he nods.
"You drank all of it before you quit?"
"No," she shakes her head.
"Coffee has a pretty lengthy shelf life," he points out.
"Harm I threw it away."
"Why?"
"I could smell it from the bedroom."
"That is an exaggeration."
"Every time I smell coffee, or even coffee grounds I get sick."
"You have got to be kidding me."
"I can't eat a cheeseburger, either."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't even go into a burger joint."
"Why not?"
"The smell makes me sick."
"Is that normal?"
"The doctor assured me that it would pass."
"Has it?"
She shrugs, "I stopped subjecting myself to burgers, and coffee several months ago."
"What time are you supposed to be in court?"
"Soon."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"No," she shakes her head, "but you could do me a favor."
"What's that?"
"Check to see if the paint is dry, and put the crown molding back up."
"I can do that."
She smiles at him, "You do know that isn't going to change anything, right? You being here, or putting the crown molding up is not going to dissuade me from the divorce."
He nods, "And it's not going to change the fact that I still love you."
"You do know that you can't stay here, right?"
"Yeah."
She leaves the house. He watches her back out the driveway in her silver SUV. He wonders to himself when she got a new car. He exits the house, and heads into the garage to grab his tools. He pushes the door open, half-expecting to find her other vehicle. He finds both garage bays empty. He flips on the light, and makes his way across the garage towards his work bench. He stops halfway across. He stares at a divot in the concrete. He shifts into a squatting position. He rubs his finger over the void in the concrete. He rises to his feet, and tips his head upward, realizing that the light above his head is out. He studies the burnt out bulb for a moment before something else catches his eye. He stares at a hole in the ceiling. Curious, he pulls the string on the ceiling between the two garage bays. He climbs into the attic crawl space. He uses his phone as a flashlight. He follows the trajectory of the hole. He places his hand against one of the trusses.