The room was quiet. Louisa sat there, looking out her window, her small window to a view that really was nothing, just more buildings behind her. It was an ugly view. She turned her head slightly when the door opened. Martin stepped out, wiping his face again with his handkerchief, glanced out at the abysmal view and spoke.
"Sorry about that," he mumbled and barely had to turn to face her kitchen area. It was also tiny.
"It's alright," she said quietly, crossing her arms over herself. "I've had that same reaction pretty much each day."
Martin turned back to her, "You've been sick, I mean throwing up a lot?"
He had not particularly wanted to discuss his activities in the lavatory, but with her flat being so tiny, it was impossible to mask what he'd been doing. The reality and stress of the whole situation hit him, and he'd bolted from his seat. For once, blood wasn't the cause of him throwing up, but Louisa's news was. It had taken him a few minutes to come to grips with things in the lavatory, and then, he'd splashed cold water on his face. Now, he was feeling a bit better, but he was still out of sorts with this very unexpected news.
Louisa sighed, "It's to be expected, Martin. I don't have to explain to you how pregnancy works. Many women get sick. I'm one of them. I've been sick, tired, aching, feeling all out of sorts-really you name it, and I've felt it, everything but normal."
"Ahh, well, I'm sorry to hear that," he said quietly as he worked there at her cooktop preparing some tea. He hadn't asked; she hadn't commented, but tea seemed appropriate. "Umm," he said quietly again, as he worked, and finally, he put the water on and turned toward her, leaning against the sink, "how far? I mean?"
"Yes," she sighed loudly again, shaking her head. "I know what you mean. 12 weeks, four days right now, based on what my doctor said. They just did a scan a couple days before Christmas. I guess it is really settling in, I mean, I'm really going to have a baby."
"So-" Martin started to say, but Louisa decided to just put everything out there.
"So, yes, Martin, you are the father. I wasn't going to bed with anyone a couple weeks before our wedding, or," she rolled her eyes and groaned, "that disaster. It was more than likely that first night, right after you proposed. I know we used precautions and all, but it was a long night, and I suppose well," she glanced to him with a frown, "nothing is a 100% guarantee is it?"
"No, not in medicine," he said with an almost grumble.
"Don't need a medical lecture," she said, holding up her hand to him.
"I wasn't going to give you one!" Martin snapped. Before he could stop himself, "I' was agreeing with you! It's like I'm not able to even bring up the word medicine or anything related to it without you jumping at me that I'm going to lecture you. Louisa, you're discussing medical things right now, and because of that, I can interject too. It wasn't a lecture."
"A baby isn't a thing, Martin!" Louisa snapped, frowning at him.
"I didn't say it was, the baby," he corrected, "not it, I mean." Martin got flustered and turned beet red. He let out his breath and looked her in the eye, "The baby is not a thing. No, I realize that," he said almost snarky. "Discussing a pregnancy is a thing. That's all I was commenting."
"Wait, what? What are we discussing, I mean, besides the baby?" Louisa asked, now confused. Both grew quiet. The conversation had gotten out of hand and spiraled in the wrong direction. The room was silent, except for the sound of Martin making tea. Finally, he took the couple steps from the counter area to the table and put two the two tea cups. He folded up his large body into the small chair and sat across from her.
"You alright now?" Louisa asked, nodding her head toward the lavatory. She eyed him, "I thought only blood was an issue."
"Fine," he grunted, as he looked down at his cup. He was embarrassed, but finally, he looked up and found her looking back. "I thought it was only blood, I mean, that bothered me, but I've been working on that too. It's slow, but I'm trying to conquer it. As far as today," he grew quiet and then looked down again before he spoke in a low tone, "only time I've ever been delivered news like that. I am not sure how to react."
"I suppose I have had a bit more time to process everything," Louisa admitted, taking a sip of her tea. "Mmm, thank you for this. It's good."
"It's whatever you had over there," he nodded to the counter.
"Oh, right," she nodded. "I did get some gifs for the holidays from a few students. I hadn't tried any of the teas yet."
Martin looked to her, "If I am allowed to ask without being accused of giving a medical lecture, how is your health, everything with, with," he nodded to her.
"The baby?" Louisa finished, eyeing him. "There really is a baby in there, Martin."
"I know that! You've told me," he snapped again, grunting.
Louisa sighed too and put down her cup to answer him, "Everything is fine so far. No problems. I hate the term geriatric. They said weight gain was good, which annoys me because it's anything but good."
Martin's head snapped up, "All of that is true, though. You are a geriatric mother, Louisa. It means they need to watch things closely. It's just based on age, nothing you did. As far as weight, yes, during pregnancy you need to gain weight, but that is in moderation. It can be achieved with a well balanced diet of lean meats, fruits, vegetables, and even the right amount of dairy to help your calcium intake."
Louisa gave him a nasty look, "Finished, doctor?"
"What?" Martin threw up his hands in shock. "I'm sorry, but you can't expect me to sit quietly on the topic. It IS a medical discussion, just as if you were sitting here, and I was explaining about a child's having trouble learning, you would want to give advice. You can't expect me to sit by and not ask questions and not clarify things that annoy you."
Louisa narrowed her gaze at him, but she didn't say anything. The two sat in silence again, sipping tea. Finally, Louisa cleared her throat, "Anyways, that's why I wanted to talk to you in London, in person. You can maybe understand that after meeting you for breakfast, I realized it wasn't the right place. Having Chris there to watch it play out wasn't ideal."
"I didn't know Chris would be there!" Martin exclaimed, frustrated she thought that.
"Yes, I know, Martin," Louisa sighed and shook her head.
"How long have you known?" Martin asked quietly, his eyes trying to meet hers. "You've had to have known for some time. Wait," he pointed, "you didn't leave the village after you found out, did you?"
Louisa looked up at him, her eyes fixed on his, and with a firm response said, "No." She frowned, "I did not know when I left the village, but I did find out not quite two weeks after."
"So, you've known for some time?" Martin asked.
"Yes, Martin," she said, sighing. "What would you have liked for me to do? We ended things. You don't make me happy. I don't make you happy. I wasn't about to-"
"I only said that," he interjected, swallowing the lump in his throat as he did. His face turned ghostly white, finally admitting something he hadn't before. This was something Chris insisted he do. He closed his eyes briefly as he took a long breath, "I only said that," he started again, "because nothing makes me happy. I mean, I said that because I'm not supposed to be happy. I suppose I was content around you."
Louisa raised her eyebrows in somewhat of an annoyance, "Oh right," she nodded, not really registering this huge admission from Martin, "you were content around me. Hmm, makes a girl feel real special, Martin. No, you aren't happy with me, but you're content. Really good way to start a marriage!"
"No," his eyes widened, trying to explain further, "you aren't understanding me."
"Well, that's pretty typical, neither of us understands the other," Louisa grumbled with a roll of her eyes as she sat back in her chair.
"Please," he told her, trying to catch her eye. When he didn't, he tried again to speak, "Louisa, I don't understand happiness. I don't understand the obsession with it. I've never been happy. What I was trying to say is that by saying what I did back in Portwenn on that, that day," he said with an almost stutter, "I didn't mind being around you."
"Well, thanks, Martin," Louisa shook her head. "Maybe, in time, you'll be able to say the same to this baby, that you don't mind being around him or her."
"I'm only trying to explain," Martin told her. She wasn't having it.
She gestured with her hands, "You either love someone or you don't, Martin. You are happy with them or you aren't. They make you happy or they don't. There isn't really much else to say. We don't work together, and yet, we're now going to have this baby."
"When are you coming back to the village?" Martin asked, looking to her.
"Coming back?" Louisa looked to him, now horrified. "Why would I come back?"
"It's your village," Martin offered. "I assumed you would want to come back. Look, Louisa, if you want to get married-"
"No, I certainly do not!" Louisa snapped. "I'm not getting married for the sake of a child. Plenty of women raise babies on their own. I can manage."
"Here in London?" Martin asked, shocked she would stay.
"Yes," Louisa said with a nod. "I'll be fine. The school is adequate, not the same as home, but I'll manage. When the time comes, I'll find a place for the baby, a child minder or then a preschool eventually. It's not your problem."
"How can you say that?" Martin asked, raising his voice. "You're being completely ridiculous about all of this."
"Do you want a baby, Martin? Was that in your grand plan? Are you all excited to be a daddy?" Louisa sneered.
"No, I mean," he gestured with his hands, "that's not fair. I didn't plan this."
"I didn't either!" Louisa hissed.
"That's not what I meant!" Martin said, clearly agitated. "I simply mean," he paused and let out his breath, trying to calm down. He looked to Louisa and saw she was still really mad. "Louisa, can we both just catch ourselves for a moment?"
Louisa didn't answer, but her turning her head away and looking down, told Martin she had conceded to the idea. He looked to the table and sipped at his now cold tea. Finally, he put his cup down and turned to look out the dingy window before he started to speak again.
"You always ask me to talk more, to tell you about my childhood, about my family. Joan is the only person I wish to remember, but sadly, I often cannot get other less than ideal images out of my head. Here's one for you as it pertains to what you just asked me. When I was five, just before I turned six and was sent off to boarding school, I remember going to the men's club or whatever it was called, with my father. I'm glad you didn't meet him when he and my mother visited. I know the village grumbled about what a chap he was and why I couldn't be more like him. He wants everyone to like him, everyone except me, I suppose. He would have made you feel uncomfortable, as if he was staring into your soul. It's not a morale man, which is one of the reasons I've strived to be anything but what he is. Back to my story, though, he took me with him one day, and I was delighted. I still thought my father was a wonderful man even though he rarely showed me any love. He'd not taken me to his club before, but he did this day. He told me I needed to become independent, that I was going off to school, and I needed to learn life lessons. His club had a pool. He dressed me for it, and while I didn't know much about visiting a pool, as my mother never let me do so, he took me to the side, and with his big, hideous grin, he threw me in. I know people believe in this as a tactic to teach children how to swim, but the difference being that their parents are often in the water or at least nearby to make sure the children stay safe. My father threw me in, and as he did, he told me to grow up. He didn't help me, and he didn't even stay to watch. He threw me in, turned, and he walked away to join his group. That was that. I'd never been taught to swim, and all I can remember is struggling to get to the side. It was deep, well over my head, over most, I would say. No one else was around, and if I hadn't been determined to survive, well," he sighed and grew quiet for a moment. Martin swallowed the lump in his throat and continued. Louisa remained quiet to let him finish, "I remember hating my father that day, and he left me there for hours. I didn't have a towel. I didn't have anyone. I didn't have lunch. Finally, he came back to gather me, and I'm sure he'd had plenty to drink all afternoon. He didn't comment on the day, other than to say that I'd made it. That was the first I remember starting to hate my father, and while I didn't understand it at the time, as I grew up and recollected on that memory, I vowed I would never do that. As I grew older, I told myself I'd never do that because I'd never have children. My parents had a child they didn't want, and I wouldn't do the same."
"I see," Louisa said, with a slight sniffle. Martin continued to look out the window, but Louisa spoke again, "So, you've decided, and you don't want a child."
Martin stood up and turned to her, his eyes showing sorrow. He looked down and let out a long sigh again, "Louisa, nothing in my life has turned out how I expected, nothing. Everything I do, well, I just end up mucking up. I'm saying that right now before I muck up things even more, it would be wise if I took some time, you took some time. This has been a lot to process, and the more we are around each other, we just say the wrong thing and agitate each other. I think it would be best if I went back to my hotel and took some time."
He tried to meet her gaze, but she shook her head and turned away, "Right, I'll just be here, pregnant."
"That's not fair," he said quietly, a frown appearing on his face. She looked up at him.
"Really? What's fair right now, Martin, hmm?" Louisa asked.
He shook his head and turned away, stepping toward the door, "Get some rest, Louisa. Some of this is for your benefit, to let you rest. I'll speak to you later today."
"Fine, Martin, fine," Louisa sighed and shook her head again, disagreeing with him. "Just run away like you did when you left London, hiding from your problem."
Martin opened the door and looked back at her, "Louisa, I was trying to save myself, save what little shred of a career I might have left. You ran. You left your village and ran here, to a city I know you hate, and from the sounds of it, you intend to stay just to prove some ridiculous point. I am going to step away right now because I know I put my foot in my mouth all the time and don't want to do it anymore right now. Good day."