I actually can't even fucking breathe.
Somehow, I manage to find my way to the bathtub, legs nearly giving out as I lower myself to sit on its polished edge. My hands are violently trembling as I look at the photo, to the point where I can feel my stitches pulling slightly. It hurts, but I barely even notice; I'm too busy reading and re-reading the information printed on the picture again and again, as if I anticipate that it might change before my very eyes.
UCLA OBSTETRICS
PATIENT NAME: WEST, J
DOB: 26 JULY 1992
GA: 12W 3D
It's all coming together for me now, the once random and mismatched puzzle pieces snapping neatly together in my mind. This explains it all- why she had been so distant, so moody; why she had stopped smoking and drinking her coffee when she'd never had any interest in doing so before; why she'd refused to go on any rides on that last date that we'd had at the pier. It all makes a sickening amount of sense now. I don't know how I didn't put it together before-
Jade had been pregnant. And I'd had absolutely no idea.
My vision blurs as I stare down at the sonogram image in my hand, the already fuzzy black and white shapes becoming even more indistinguishable as my eyes fill with tears.
I am certain that this has to be the secret that Cassie, the barista at DeBeen, had mentioned to me when I had spoken to her earlier in the week. It has to be what she had overheard Jade talking about when she had come into the shop for the first time all those months ago; what she'd sworn she could and would handle on her own.
Just like I thought, the secret she'd been keeping has something to do with me.
I was right. But I have never so fervently wished that I wasn't.
This is what you have to understand- before, whenever I thought of my future, I always saw Jade standing there- I had these images, these ideas of the life I used to plan for us.
When we were younger, so foolish and happy, I'd thought about how, one day, I'd marry her. I'd swap the cheap rings we wore as necklaces for real ones and we'd start our lives together. And maybe we'd both go the show biz route for awhile, but eventually, we'd end up back in Los Angeles, with a big house and a dog and- and a couple of kids running around. Maybe I'd teach at Hollywood Arts. Maybe we both would, with me teaching stage combat courses and Jade taking over improv class from Sikowitz. Or maybe she wouldn't, maybe instead Jade would be a playwright or something, doing a few movies a year, just for the pure love she had for the art of acting.
Maybe none of those things would ever happen at all, but we'd still be okay, because we'd have each other, and that'd be all that mattered. Didn't it? I'd always thought so. When nothing else made sense, Jade and I always did. She was the one thing that I knew I could always be sure of.
But, somewhere along the line, my pristine little plan got shattered, into a hopeless mosaic of broken promises filled with the fault lines of hurt feelings, and now there's this being thrown into the already unsolvable equation and I'd been confused before, but now I truly just don't even know what to do.
I draw a shaky breath and glance back down at the sonogram photo, which I'm clutching all too tightly in my hand, nearly crumpling it. I smooth it out in my lap. Looking at it, it feels like yet another reminder of the life we could've had, but it's more tangible, and far more painful somehow. It's a snapshot; an all-too-fleeting glance into the alternate path that our lives could've taken together, but what kills me is the knowledge that we'll never get to see the whole picture.
It hurts. And I'm angry. Dammit, I'm angry.
How could she have kept something like this from me? I can understand being hesitant to tell me at first, because we'd had scares like any couple would have had, and when the first one had happened, I'd been so afraid, staring down the barrel of fatherhood, that I know I wasn't exactly the most supportive person in the entire world. I'm sure I made her feel responsible, like it was entirely her fault, even though that couldn't possibly be farther from the truth. It had turned out to be nothing but a false alarm, but even so, we'd gotten past it. Like everything else that had ever come our way, we'd pushed through; we'd figured things out, and we'd done it together.
Why was this any different?
I have to know. And to do that, I have to ask her.
I tuck the little sonogram photo into my wallet. It feels impossibly heavy in my pocket; like I might stumble under the weight of it.
As I make my way back to my hotel, all I can think about is that my washer, fastened firmly on frayed string around my neck, no longer feels like the key to the universe.
It feels like the noose of the damned.
Author's Note
I know this is a long time coming and this chapter feels short and filler-y, but with how intense I am planning the next chapter to be, I felt like it made more sense to split them up. I hope to have that chapter up tomorrow or the next day.
I hope you enjoyed it! As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated! :)