Anthony Abetemarco sits on Erin Reagan's couch desperately trying to recall the sequence of events on election night. He waves his hands and shrugs.
"I certainly hope I didn't make an ass of myself."
"Of course not. You are a decent human being."
"What is going on? Why are you bringing this up now?"
"We have spent a large part of the calendar year isolating from the world," Erin points out.
"That I do recall."
Erin's blue button down has been tugged from the waist of her skirt. Her typically neatly maintained hair is barely secured into a haphazard bun. A myriad of empty bottles sit on her kitchen island. She stares longingly at an empty plate once home to nachos. Her eyes flick upward towards a television screen reminding her the results will not be in today. She grips the counter, desperately wanting for the election to be over. She wants the year to be over, and for everything to go back to normal.
Anthony appears across the counter from her. He flashes his wrist her in her direction. Like a petulant child she shakes her head. He flips the television off with the remote.
"You should really turn in. I know that you took tomorrow off, but we both know you have plenty of prep to do for the trial on Thursday, Erin."
"Sometimes I wonder why you even bother to put up with me."
He furrows his brow, "I don't know what you mean. You're my friend."
"And sometimes I am absolutely unbearable."
"It has been a difficult year for everyone. I don't fault you for feeling the pressure of that."
"You could have let me wallow in my own self-pity."
He points to the empty plate, "And without the carb base I prepared you would probably have alcohol poisoning right now."
"We didn't finish the tequila," she points out.
"You should probably turn in," he tries to keep her from sinking any further down the rabbit hole.
"We might as well finish the tequila."
"It's three AM."
"Time is meaningless these days."
"In all of the years we've worked together I have never seen you in such a state."
"I should have listened to you," she breaks eye contact.
"Erin, what is going on? Are you okay?"
"No. I am not okay, because I have managed to put someone that I care about in a really precarious situation."
"I am obviously missing something in this scenario."
"We definitely slept together."
"You passed out on the living room floor?"
Erin cocks an eyebrow, "No. In the biblical sense, Anthony."
"What?! I don't think so."
"Perhaps you don't remember, but I do. My memory is not that fuzzy. You said you were hot after we started drinking tequila. You were sweating, and you couldn't manage to get your tie off. I took it off, and then I kissed you."
"Maybe your memory is a bit fuzzy. I don't remember any of that. I wouldn't expect that from you."
"You really don't remember?"
He searches the recesses of his mind. He digs, and digs.
"I remember stumbling around in the dark… looking for my pants, and waking up on the living room floor. How can you be sure that anything happened? I can't imagine your memory from that night is totally reliable either. I respect you, and I just wouldn't want…"
She cuts him off, "I initiated it. It wasn't you. It was definitely me."
"Well this is awkward. How do we proceed?"
"I value our professional relationship. I would like to pretend that this never happened for the sake of work," she explains. Logically she knows that her heart won't beat out of her chest, but it certainly feels as if it will.
He leans forward a hair, "So why do you look like you're ready to cry?"
She shakes her head, "Because I am ready to cry. I crossed a line, and now here we are having this conversation. A conversation that is not going to get any easier."
"I am happy to move forward as if election day shenanigans never happened, if that is what you want."
"I desperately want to put it in the rearview, but that isn't possible."
"Why not?"
Erin reaches into the pocket of her flannel pajama bottoms. She pulls out a black and white photo, and hands it to Anthony. He carefully accepts the still image. In a matter of seconds he memorizes every detail. Tears trace the surface of her cheeks before he can meet her glance. Without a single word he vacates his seat on her couch. He squats down next to the coffee table, and hands her a handkerchief out of his pocket. After several moments she is able to regain her composure.
"I'm sorry."
He furrows his brow, "What do you have to be sorry about?"
"Ruining your life."
"Ruining my life? How do you figure?"
"I'm pregnant."
"And?"
Erin wipes the tears from her face, "With your baby after a drunken one-night-stand."
"I am still not seeing how you've ruined my life."
"I have decided that despite my advanced maternal age, and a whole host of other reasons not to proceed that I am going to have this baby."
"I assumed as much by the fact that you are telling me."
"Why aren't you upset?"
"Do you want me to be upset?"
"Maybe part of me hoped that you would be," Erin admits.
"How many babies are born every year as a result of alcohol?" He queries.
"I don't have a handle on those statistics."
As he returns to the couch he gently places his hands on her shoulders. "I am not upset with you. I think that this is great news. Besides, there is no use in both of us being upset."
"You do?" She arches an eyebrow.
"I can admit that the circumstances are less than ideal, but my feelings about having a baby certainly aren't swayed by them. Are yours?"
"No. I prepared a whole argument," she reels.
"About what?"
"That I have made a decision on the matter that I plan to stick to no matter what your position on the subject is."
"My official position is that I would like to be involved in the parenting of this child."
"Oh. How would that work?"
"I have always wanted to be a dad. I've made a lot of really smart financial decisions in my life. I have had that opportunity because I never had a family to be responsible for. My place is paid for. I don't need to keep working to maintain my lifestyle," Anthony explains.
"You would want to be a stay at home parent?"
"It isn't a discussion we have to have today. There is plenty of time for discussion. I get the sense you are uneasy about all of this. Is it just the idea of co-parenting with…"
She cuts him off, "No, Anthony. My concern is the risk that accompanies having a baby at my age. A lot can go wrong. I contemplated not even telling you for several more weeks."
He smiles at her, "Let's just take it one day at a time. I'm not going to say anything… other than, Merry Christmas. I guess it is the time of year to remember that the whole world can change with just one life."