Ana's head was firmly planted in the open toilet bowl as she continued to vomit violently. Tears were streaming down her face, snot was running down her nose, and her hair was barely contained in a bun haphazardly thrown utop her head. It took minutes for her heaving to cease, and once the wave of nausea had seemingly passed, she collapsed exhausted against the cabinets of the adjacent sink.
Her mother appeared in the bathroom doorway, looking on in concern while Ana wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve. "You alright, sweetie?" Her mother questioned gently, Ana only grunted in return. "Maybe she's pregnant," her father shouted sarcastically from somewhere down the hall.
Using the counter for leverage, Ana pulled herself from the tiled floor and shakily approached the sink. She went about washing away the remnants of her sickness with her toothbrush. "I'm not pregnant," she assured through the toothpaste coating her mouth. "It's probably just a stomach bug. I do hang around children all day." Her mother didn't look entirely convinced but didn't bother arguing the contrary.
Ana watched her cousin's wedding service unfold through hazy eyes. Her father might have been taking the piss with his earlier comment, but the suggestion had her wondering. When had her last period been? The darn thing was never regular, but she couldn't remember the last time Aunt Flow had officially come to visit. And, she had to admit, she'd been moodier than usual lately. Her bouts of snipping and self-loathing weren't exactly unusual, but now they didn't seem to require a viable cause before she was off on a tangent.
Fuck, she needed to know for sure.
Bailing out of the reception early, Ana went to the drug store nearest her family's home and purchased several pregnancy tests. The clerk had been a classmate from high school, and when he'd offered his premature congratulations, Ana scowled at him and stomped out of the store.
Sitting on the same toilet her head had been buried in hours prior, Ana waited the designated minutes for a response to appear, or, hopefully, not appear. When the kitchen timer went off, the sound echoed ominously through the silent house. Releasing a quivering breath, she approached the plastic stick as if it were a snake posed to bite her. She didn't believe it, refused to accept the results, but the second and third tests revealed the same.
Ana was pregnant. Now, what the hell was she supposed to do about it?
She paced back and forth while weighing her options carefully. She could call Hopper and tell him straight away. Maybe he'd be upset, maybe he'd be elated, who could really say? This wasn't a possibility they'd discussed whatsoever. However, a more disconcerting thought occurred to her, which made that option seem ill-advised. What if she lost the baby? Ana wasn't exactly young anymore. If she knew one thing about pregnancy, it was that the chance of miscarriage grew as one got older. Could Hopper really handle that, losing another child? She decided she wasn't willing to find out. This was a secret she could keep for the time being, at least, until they were clear of the first trimester.
A few plastic pregnancy tests weren't enough to cement the reality in Ana's mind, so she formulated a plan. Lifting the mouthpiece off the wall, she stood in her parent's kitchen, twiddling the telephone cord nervously between her fingers, and dialed the number designated for emergencies. When the voice answered, "Philadelphia Public Library," she relayed the designated identification code.
"Uh," Ana fumbled on the line. "My name is Ana Thomspon, and I need Dr. Sam Owens to contact me. I have sort of a medical emergency." This seemed so excessive to her, Dr. Owens definitely had better things to do than deal with an insecure pregnant woman, but he did say he owed Hopper. Ana was just collecting the favor on the police chief's behalf.
Owens had called back shortly thereafter, and Ana explained the situation in apprehension. She needed him to be cool about this new development, but mostly she needed him to keep his mouth shut about it.
"You can't tell Hopper about this," she implored the older man while they sat in a medical exam room a few days later. Owens seemed taken aback by the demand. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled," the doctor tried to reason, but Ana emphatically shook her head. "No. If something were to happen to the baby, it'd kill him." Owens nodded deftly in agreement and didn't bother pressing the issue any further.
"Well, everything looks great. The fetus is developing nicely. I don't see any immediate causes for concern," Owens announced happily. Ana released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Everything was fine, she repeated over and over in her head like a mantra. Now, the only challenge was acting normal, so Hopper didn't suspect anything. He was a police chief, after all, they were supposed to be experts at discovering secrets.
Only the sound of wind wishing past the convertible could be heard over the ensuing silence. Murray looked awfully guilty seated in the backseat. He'd let his agitation get the best of him, and he'd grossly overstepped his boundaries in revealing the pair's darkest secrets. Alexie was lucky he didn't understand English. Otherwise, he too would have wanted to die from the second-hand embarrassment.
The car's occupants were suddenly thrown sideways as Hopper whipped the vehicle into a nearby gas station. The tires screeched to a halt as he slammed on the breaks next to a fuel pump. "Take a walk," Hopper demanded. Alexie and Murray quickly scrambled out of the vehicle and into the shop. Ana turned to open her passenger door, but Hopper caught her arm. "Not you," he stated, his eyes wide and his face frowning.
His hands returned to the steering wheel, which he gripped tightly until his knuckles turned white. "You're pregnant," it was more of a statement than a question. "Yeah," Ana muttered quietly beside him. Was he mad because she was pregnant, or because he'd hadn't told him herself? "How far along?" He asked behind clenched teeth. His eyes never strayed from the windscreen in front of him, as if it held the answer to all his questions.
"About nine weeks," she admitted quietly. "Look I-"Ana's justification was cut short by Hopper waving a disapproving finger in her direction. "No. No. I don't want to hear any explanations from you just yet." His eyes bore into her for the driver's seat. "You came out here and put yourself in danger. Put our child in danger, a child you didn't even bother to tell me about. I wanna know why?"
Ana shrunk back against the car's paneling, away from his compounding fury. "I don't know," she murmured weakly.
"You don't know?" Hopper bellowed, incensed. He looked as though he were teetering on the edge of insanity, his eyes wide and his tone baffled. His voice was a measure softer when he asked, "why didn't you feel you could tell me, Ana? What? Did you think I wouldn't want it?"
Ana fiddled absentmindedly with the hands in her lap, her head bowed in shame. "I was afraid of what would happen. Afraid of if the baby didn't make it," she confessed. Hopper released a heavy sigh at her words.
"Come here," he grumbled, pulling her into his side. Hopper's arm lay over her shoulders, and her head came to rest upon his chest. Ana could hear his heart beating rapidly against her ear, hers was thudding in time. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple before continuing, "we're gonna be alright."
The reassurance had involuntary tears leaking from her eyes, which she swiped away quickly. They sat for a long time, just holding each other, until a thought occurred to Ana. Lifting herself away from Hopper's chest, she sat up and appraised him wearily. "What about that ring you've been hiding in your pocket?" She repeated back at him the words Murray had shouted at the pair previously. Hopper's face took on an almost shy look while he dug around in his breast pocket.
Retrieving a silver band, he turned it over in his fingers before hesitantly offering it to her. "I know you're not a diamonds sort of girl, but-"His justification was interrupted by Ana climbing into his lap.
Straddling his thighs, she ignored the steering wheel digging into her back as her hands slid up to rest on his shoulders. "You know, shotgun marriages never work," she proclaimed with more levity laced in her voice than any other time that night. Hopper gripped one of her hips in his hand, the other still clutched the ring. "We could give it a shot," he reasoned, a small smirk gracing his features.
Ana's face held a similar grin, as she insisted, "then you're going to have to ask me properly." Hopper rolled his eyes at her teasing, but humored her nonetheless. "Ana Thompson, will you marry me?"
"Yes, dummy," she laughed while he placed the ring on her finger. They both marveled at the sight for a moment. All of this came from her accusing him of being a slut in some dingy Hawkins bar.
Ana pulled Hopper's face towards hers, and they kissed as if their very lives depended on it. All the drama, all the strife faded away while they poured every ounce of love and affection into each other.
But, it's like Robert Frost once wrote, 'nothing gold can stay.'
Had to let that shit simmer for a hot minute. You're welcome.
