Title: A Dream Life
Author: Andrea
Rating: R
Summary: Is that really necessary? Okay … Carter came home, Abby wanted a baby. So they had sex. But then Abby freaked out. Then one night Carter came home and Abby had a little announcement to make. You guessed it, she's late. Damn those virile Carter men. So now it's off to find a pregnancy test.
Author's Note: For Kelly #2, my favorite crackhead … I hope nothing is too "weird" in this one. And for Catherine for the stellar interactive editing once again. Good luck with that crabs thing. And enjoy the many shout outs.
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A Dream Life
Chapter 7: Moment of Truth
Pregnancy tests. Pregnancy tests. I know they have to be around here somewhere. It's a drugstore. No way do they not have pregnancy tests. And it's so nice of John to help me. I don't know where he's disappeared to … but ah, here are the pregnancy tests. Next to the condoms. Of course. Why didn't I think of that? It strikes me as funny that they wedge the pregnancy tests and ovulation kits here in between the condoms to the left and the tampons to the right. Aren't these articles mutually exclusive? Well not the condoms and the tampons, one hopes. But the ovulation kits and pregnancy tests … if you need those, you shouldn't need the condoms or the tampons. Unless of course the ovulation kit doesn't work and the pregnancy test is negative. Then I guess you'd need the tampons at least. And if you're relieved that the pregnancy test is negative, I guess you'd need the condoms too.
How will I feel if my test turns out negative, I wonder. And I realize I have no idea. A part of me wants this, really wants this. But another part of me is scared shitless at the thought. If I am pregnant, the course of action is clear. I don't want an abortion. So I'll have a baby. We'll have a baby. And deep down, I know that it could be great. It really could. For better or worse, we'll be a family. And we'll make the best of it, come what may. But if I'm not pregnant … what then? I don't know. Will I be disappointed and want to go back to trying for a baby, or will I feel relieved, like we dodged a bullet?
"You found them?" I lift my head at his voice and see him looking over the top of the low shelves at me.
"Yeah, there are only about 87 kinds. Which one should we get?"
"Does it really matter? They're all the same, you know. Get whatever looks easiest to take. Or whatever's cheapest." He suggests as he heads down his aisle, around the end cap and comes to join me in front of the array of pee-on-a-stick tests. "They keep them next to the condoms? That's weird." Great minds think alike, I guess. Or our minds anyway.
"So which one?" He considers the selection and then pulls one package off the rack.
"Here. Get this one."
"Why this one?"
"It's a two pack."
"What do we need two for?"
"I don't know. What if the first one falls in the toilet? Or we mess it up somehow? What if the results are ambiguous?"
"But what if none of that happens, then what are we gonna do with the extra one?"
"Save it for next time?"
"What do you mean next time? What if I'm already pregnant?"
"See? Look." He flips over the package in his hand. "It doesn't expire for another four years. So one way or another, we'll be needing the second one by then."
"Oh really? News to me." He just grins at me and tosses the box of pregnancy tests into a basket. A basket that looks pretty full. And not full of ice cream either.
"Do I want to know what you have in that basket?"
"I just picked up a couple things we might need." He has a teasing, playful smile on his face. I reach for the basket, and he promptly holds it up out of my reach.
"You're gonna have to show me eventually, you might as well show me now." I attempt, in vain, to jump up and grab the basket. And because now we are apparently both five years old and enjoying a good game of keep away, he yanks it out of my grasp. And bonks himself in the side of the head with it, dropping it and spilling it's contents all over the floor.
"Oww." He says as he rubs at the side of head. I should feel more sympathetic, but really ...
"That's what you get for teasing me." I admonish him as I stoop down to retrieve the fallen items. And then I see what they are. "John." My stern voice.
"What?" He gives me an innocent and sweet smile, trying to ingratiate himself to me.
"What is this?"
"Just some stuff."
"John. It's baby stuff."
"I know that."
"Why? I mean, don't you think it's a bit premature?"
"No, it's fun. Look, Abby … look at this." He picks up a plastic wrapped package containing various yellow and white items, apparently decorated with ducks. "It's like a little layette. See? It's got one of those baby nightgowns, a onesie, little booties, and a little hat. This one even has a receiving blanket and a free newborn pacifier."
"Oh well, a free pacifier. Great. So certainly that justifies buying a bunch of stuff we don't need."
"We'll need it."
"Not if I'm not pregnant. That's the whole point of getting the pregnancy test, right? "
"You're pregnant."
"We don't know that for sure."
"I do."
"You seem awfully confident. What makes you so sure?"
"Instinct. I have a feeling. A vibe."
"Ohh, a vibe. And how do you explain that? Paternal instinct? Man's intuition?"
"Now you're making fun of me."
"Damn straight. You're the one buying clothes for what could very possibly be a non-existent baby."
"That's not a very nice thing to say about our child." He laughs and heads down the aisle swinging his restocked basket. He's so happy. I just hope he won't take it too hard if his wish doesn't come true. I don't want to see that look of disappointment on his face again. I wish he wasn't so sure. Because if he's wrong … In some ways I want this test to be positive for no other reason than to see the look on his face. Not that I won't be happy too … I will. But I think, at this point, I'll handle it better if it's negative.
"Abby?" he calls to me from the end of the aisle, pulling me out of my reverie.
I run and catch up with him, plucking another item that catches my eye out of the basket. "What's this?"
"It's a pig. Shake it. See? It's a rattle. And it's nice and soft. But it's feet and hands are teethers. So it's a toy, a teether, and a lovey all in one. Neat, huh?"
"Lovey?"
"Yeah, you know … a lovey. Like something to cuddle up with."
"Okay … so it's a cuddly rattle."
"And a teether." He reminds me.
"Teether? But John … the baby, if there is a baby, won't even be born for another 8 months and then it'll another 4 months before it starts teething. We're not gonna need a rattle/lovey/teether for another year. Just like these baby spoons. Won't need them for a year. At least."
"Oh, but these spoons are special."
"Special?" My best cynical voice. Although, truth be told, I'm finding him rather adorable. This whole overly-excited, potential daddy-to-be routine works well on him.
"They change color if the food is too hot. That way we don't have to worry about making the baby food too hot and burning the baby's mouth." Overprotective daddy routine. We don't even know if there's a baby yet, but already he's looking for ways to protect it and keep it safe. I was right about him being a great father. Still, this seems a bit much. Never mind all the things that can go wrong in a pregnancy making it a very long way between conception and birth, we don't even have a positive pregnancy test yet.
"We don't even know if I'm pregnant!" He just grins at me. "And already this maybe-baby has clothes and spoons and a … a pig."
"What's your problem with the pig?"
"It's pink."
"Of course it's pink. It's a pig. What's wrong with pink? Aren't girls supposed to like pink? "
"So now you think that the baby we aren't even sure we are having is a girl."
"Um, you were the girl I meant … but now that you mention it …"
"But this bib is pink too."
"Well …"
"You're looking for a daddy's little girl, huh?"
He smiles and shrugs. "Maybe it's more of that father's intuition kicking in." I roll my eyes. He laughs and grabs my hand. "Come on, I want to show you something."
"Hey, this isn't the way to the ice cream."
"We'll take the long way to the ice cream. Come on. Look at this." The baby aisle. Oh, of course. "Look … there's like a hundred different kinds of diapers here. And they're disposable, but they feel like cloth. And they close with velcro. Look, they're so thin. Wow, how do they do that?" Is he really this excited about the absolute marvel that is the disposable diaper?
"Okay, you do know diapers are just something for the baby to poop in, right?"
"And look at this -- pop-up wipes! And baby food in plastic containers. How cool is that?" His voice is just spilling over with excitement and his eyes are sparkling. He's happily inspecting an array of baby bottles, picking up various ones for a closer look, with that excited-little-boy expression on his face.
I had no idea he was so excited about baby products. Of course I realize it's not so much the products themselves as the fact that we might need them.
"Don't get too excited about those. We won't be needing too many."
"You gonna breastfeed?"
"I was planning on it. You have a problem with that?" I have a problem with this whole ridiculous conversation, considering it might all be for nothing.
"No. Not at all." He puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. "I'm glad. It's best for the baby. I told you you're gonna be a great mom. But …" But what? But maybe I won't be such a great mom after all? But I might mess it up with all my fears and doubts. " … you know, for juice and stuff."
"What?" Maybe he wasn't worrying about all the ways I might screw this up. Of course he wasn't, that's my job.
"I said, we'll still need some baby bottles … for juice and stuff. Or you know, we might want to use formula sometimes … or for expressed breast milk --"
"Okay, now we are way ahead of ourselves. I think there's lots of time to buy bottles."
"You're probably right. But I'm keeping the pig. And the pink bib."
"Whatever. Can we just get my ice cream now?" I lead him over to the freezer section and start surveying the selection. "Cherry Chip Ba Da Bing. Rocky Road. Mint Chocolate Chip." I can hear that my voice is excited as his was over diapers. So many flavors, so little time.
"What's it gonna be?" He asks.
"Umm … all of them?"
"Eating for two, huh?"
"Shut up. Ooh, look. Coney Island Waffle Cone!"
"And we have a winner."
We take our various purchases to the register. The clerk unloads the ice cream and baby items without paying much attention, but when she pulls out the pregnancy tests at the bottom of basket, she gives us a questioning look. All I can do is roll my eyes, and turn to Carter, giving him a look.
"See? Normal people take the test first."
"Ah, it's just a formality." He brushes off my protests as he picks up our bag, and we head out the door.
"Good luck!" The clerk calls out to us as we head out the door.
"I wonder if she meant 'good luck' on it being it positive or…" He ponders this as we pause just outside the door.
"I'm sure that's what she meant."
"How'd she know?"
"Are you serious? With all the stuff you bought, I think she knows which way we want it to go."
"We?" He gives me a question look as he takes my hand. But before I can answer, he leads me … in the wrong direction. That seems to keep happening.
"Wait. Where are we going? This is the wrong way."
"I know, I thought we'd take a little walk before we go home."
"But my ice cream's gonna melt."
"Don't worry, you're gonna get your ice cream."
We walk in silence for a while for a while both lost in our own thoughts. Carter's whistling under his breath and can't stop grinning. Oh God, this test better be positive. I knew he wanted it, but I don't think I knew just how much until this moment. And it seems his excitement is contagious. There's a fluttering of excitement in my stomach. Or maybe it's nerves. Or maybe it's morning sickness. Pregnant. A baby. There could already be a baby that we made together growing inside of me. The thought terrifies me. And in the next moment makes me smile. I look over at him and catch his eye. We laugh seeing the expressions on each other's faces. His reflects nothing but hopeful happiness. I have a feeling that my face is probably showing my mixed emotions, but I'm sure he's just glad to see that at least I'm smiling about this. We walk along hand-in-hand, in a companionable silence. Just enjoying each other's presence.
It's such a welcome change from the past few weeks when we've barely talked to each other. I know it was hard on both of us. Those first few days after our conversation, he'd been quiet and distant. Not that I could blame him. I know how disappointed he was. I felt like the least I could do was give him some space. I expected that after a couple days he would be ready to talk. But a couple days turned into a couple weeks. And by then I was afraid that he wasn't going to ever forgive me. And as much as I may have wanted to talk to him in those weeks, I was afraid he didn't want to talk to me. And then, by the time he started making it obvious that he was open to trying the heal the breach between us, I didn't know where to start. Part of me was mad at him for being so distant. Part of me was disgusted with myself for hurting him. And for letting my fears get the better or me. I was trying to work up my courage to approach him. I knew he was ready, I was just afraid of what would happen once we opened up the floodgates. I'd already revealed a lot to him. And it wasn't easy. Especially since I was still so confused. But I just wanted some time to work it out for myself. So I found ways to stall … to keep him at arm's length.
Of course, the fact that by then I had realized that I was late and therefore, possibly pregnant, only complicated things. I didn't want to get his hopes up if it was a false alarm. But I didn't want to leave him out of the discovery phase if it wasn't. And with the distance between us, I didn't quite know how to tell him. Not to mention that I had a few things to figure out for myself first. But when I woke up this morning, ten days late for my period, I decided it was time. I had to do something. Tell him, take a test … something. I debated all day about taking a test at work, but in the end, decided that I wanted to tell him first. I wanted him to be there for all of it, from the very beginning. And since I was off a few hours before he was, I'd planned to go home and make a nice meal. I was hoping we could talk over candlelight and good food. And then, afterwards, once we felt connected again, I was going to tell him the news that I knew would make him ecstatic.
But then I fell asleep. Damn bath. I almost feel asleep in the tub twice I was so relaxed. Well, no, not relaxed. Exhausted is more like it. But not relaxed. In fact, the whole time in the tub, even though the exhaustion kept threatening to get the best of me, I was kind of keyed up. I kept finding my hand returning to my bare belly … every time shocked at the possibility that something could be rapidly developing inside me. And I was more convinced than ever that it was time to tell him. I needed to know myself.
So I got out of the bath with every intention of making that nice dinner. Instead I decided to lie down on the bed, just to rest for a minute. The next thing I know I woke up in his arms. I vaguely remember opening my eyes to see him there next to me and rolling over to curl up with him for the first time in weeks. And then a couple hours later, I found myself returning to consciousness, the two of us wrapped up together, the way we used to be on a regular basis. And everything seemed right with the world. Except for that one nagging question in my mind.
And apparently our nocturnal bonding session must have left Carter with the same feeling of a restored bond between us. He questioned my change in mood, but didn't seem particularly surprised by it. He must know me well enough to know that I don't usually voice what's happening in my head. So outwardly I may appear very much the same, until suddenly all those inward changes come bursting to the surface. Or maybe he was just so glad that we were 'us' again that he didn't dare question the origin.
"Don't fall in." I hear his voice behind me, feel his hand holding me tethered, keeping me from wandering any further. I'm jolted out of my thoughts and realize that we've managed to make our way to the river. So lost in my thoughts, I was, that I probably would have kept walking until I bumped into the railing at the river's edge. Never thought of them in that application before. Good for protecting pets, small children, and women so intent on the ramblings in their heads that they don't even know where they are walking.
"Come here. Sit down." I settle on the bench next to him as he pulls out that ice cream that I've been salivating over. "I told you you'd get your ice cream."
"How are we gonna eat it? Just lick it out of the container?"
"I thought we'd use a wonderful invention called 'spoons.'"
"And where are we gonna get spoons?"
"Right here." He gives me a look like I must be kinda stupid as he produces the package of baby spoons he insisted on buying. "Now aren't you glad I bought these?"
"Baby spoons?"
"We can feed each other … practice our technique." I sigh at this comment, but he winks and grins at me while handing an impossibly small spoon. Eat ice cream with this? It'll take three hours. We dig in anyway. It's fantastic. But I don't know who told John he was entitled to half my ice cream.
"Mmm, this is really good."
"Hey look, my spoon changed color! I guess it works for cold food too." He's awfully giddy about a color-change spoon. "And this ice cream really is good. Good choice."
"Yeah, my choice. My ice cream." I give him a rather pointed look.
He laughs. "Don't worry, I won't eat too much."
"You better not. If I don't get enough now, you'll just have to go out for more later."
"Whatever you want." He leans in for a little kiss. Well gee, he sure loves me now. Okay, that's not really fair. I know he loved me all along. He's just happy with me now. Or maybe just happy.
We continue to eat the ice cream, with me greedily scooping it up and poor John just trying to get a spoonful every once in a while. After a few minute he looks at me and starts to speak. "You know, you never answered my question." I raise my eyebrows at him … what question? "You know." I shake my head. Nope, I don't know.
"What question would that be, John?" He puts down his spoon in the ice cream container and turns to face me. Smiles softly while reaching over to brush a stray hair behind my ear. His fingers linger on my cheek, and I see the change in his expression from happy and goofy to serious and concerned.
"Abby, how do you want the test the turn out? Are you really hoping that it's positive?" Oh, that question. "I mean, I know you said if you are pregnant, you'll have the baby. But I wasn't sure if you'd just be making the best of the situation, or if you really do want a baby right now. Because I want the test to be positive. More than anything. But only if it's what you want too."
Wasn't this what I was just asking myself? I guess this is the moment of truth. What do I want that test to say? I try very hard to quiet the negative thoughts that run through my head. The thoughts that are a constant reminder of all the things that can go wrong. I know that there are always going to be doubts and worries nagging my subconscious. But is the joy that a baby could bring to our lives worth a lifetime of worry? Is it worth the risk of a broken heart, of pain I can only begin to imagine? I look at the man in front of me and remember a time when I used to ask myself the same questions about him. And now I couldn't begin to imagine my life without him. And he's brought so much goodness to my life. He's certainly worth the risks. I close my eyes for a moment. Do I hope that there's already a new little life just beginning inside of me? Do I want a second chance to get back what I thought was lost forever? Do I want to give John the one thing no one else could -- the one thing that would make him happier than anything? Do I want to be somebody's mommy? When I let my heart drown out my head, the answer seems startlingly clear.
I lay my hand on his cheek and smile fully at him. I'm nodding with tears in my eyes as I speak, "Yes. It's what I want, too. I want it to be positive. I want to have your baby."
He brings his forehead down to meet mine and we stay that way for a minute before my head slips to his shoulder. I wrap my arms around him and we just hold on to each other. Then, with my almost-finished melty ice cream all but forgotten, I whisper from my resting place against his shoulder, "Let's go home."
He nods and pulls me to my feet, leading me home.