Chapter 3: Revelations & Reactions
Trent Lane was sprawled in Jesse's guest bed, thinking about his life. God, it was screwed up right now. He was living with his best friend, and his wife was probably living with someone else...he tried not to think about that. It was painful enough acknowledging that he and Daria were seperated, without adding to it by contemplating the possiblities...
He looked at the clock. 1:30 AM. Damn. He, Trent Lane the Semi-Narcoleptic Musician, couldn't seem to get to sleep these days. Every day was 24 hours closer to The Day...the day he and Daria had agreed on to meet again and either decide to give things another try or discuss divorce terms. But how could she forgive him, after the way he had treated her? Trent's thoughts were bitter, like the cold fall breeze that was blowing outside the window, bringing with it a hint of the autumn that was to come. It was near the end of August, anyway...
September 2nd. That was The Day. But how would things go? Most of him wanted Daria to forgive him, but there was a small part of him that had enjoyed the freedom of the past month, going to bars with his friend, flirting with different women, although so far he hadn't let it go past that...
But Daria had...
The thought came unbidden to his mind, and although he didn't want to think about it, it wouldn't go away. Daria, his wife, had slept with someone else. On the night of their anniversary, no less. He really couldn't blame anyone but himself, considering the way he had been treating her, but still--
Abruptly, he decided to get up and go for a drive, as much to take his mind off these wandering thoughts as anything else. He got dressed quietly, trying to avoid waking Jesse -- his friend was a light sleeper. Concentrating on keeping quiet --as much to keep from thinking about anything else as not disturbing anyone-- he slipped out of the apartment, went down the stairs, and got in his car.
After starting it and backing out of the parking lot, he thought about where to go. Some places would be closed this late, but this was New York: The city that never sleeps. He cruised the streets aimlessly, hoping to avoid the thoughts that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Absently, he grabbed a Cake CD from the glove compartment and popped it in the player, which was on random play. Predictably, the first song that came on was "Daria". Aw hell, why argue with fate, he thought, and started singing along with the lyrics.
Daria
I won't be soothed
Daria
I won't be soothed over
Like, smoothed over
Like milk
Silk
A bedspread, or a quilt
Icing on a cake
Or a serene, translucent lake
Daria
Daria
I won't be soothed
I won't be smoothed
After the song was over, he still didn't feel any better. He picked up his cell phone and toyed with it with one hand, wondering whether there was anyone he could call this late. He needed to talk to someone...wait a second. He parked the car on the side of the street, unbuckled his seatbelt, and started digging through the pockets of his jeans. There it was. A matchbook, with a number scrawled on it. Myrna's number. He picked up his cell phone and dialed, hoping she was awake.
On the second ring, Myrna's voice came over the phone. "Hello?"
"Hey, Myrna? It's Trent."
"Oh hi Trent! Is everything all right? It seems a little late for a social call..."
"Uh, I need to talk to someone, and you were the only person I could think of who would possibly still be awake. Are you available?"
"Sure! No problem. Let me give you directions."
A few minutes later, Trent parked his car in front of another slightly run-down apartment building. Going up the steps, he knocked on the door, which opened to reveal Myrna, dressed in a low-cut black shirt and blue jeans. "Hi, Trent. Come on in."
Whoa, she has a nice figure, Trent thought, before immediately quashing that thought. Do you want to throw away everything you and Daria had? Another part of his mind spoke up. Then go right on thinking stuff like that. He tried concentrated on something else, the decor, for instance. Myrna had actually dressed the apartment up quite nicely. "Nice place."
"Thanks. Most of my friends ask me why I bother when I usually end up moving in a year or two anyway, but I hate living in a dump, you know what I mean?" Myrna went into the kitchen, bringing back a cookie jar. "Want a chocolate chipper?"
"Sure." Trent took one and bit into it, expecting the stale taste of a factory-made cookie. Instead, he was surprised. "Wow, these are good."
"Thanks. I like to make cookies when I don't have much else to do." She took one for herself before putting the cookie jar on the table and sitting down on the couch. "So, what's going on?"
Trent sat down on a chair. "Well, it's mostly my marriage that's been preying on my mind. The same thoughts keep running through my head, until I feel like I might go insane. And the worst of it is, I can't get to sleep because of them."
She nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, that used to happen to me sometimes. Still does." She took a bite of her cookie, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. "Would you like to tell me about them? I've found that sometimes talking to someone else about it can help relieve the pressure on your mind."
Trent thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt." He told her about the marraige problems he and Daria had had, how they were seperated now, and his worries about The Day.
"Hmm." She thought for a moment. "I'm sorry to hear that things aren't going so well. But why can't you talk to Jesse about it?"
"Well, Jesse's great and everything, but he's just such a space cadet, you know? All he'd say was that I should quit moping about it and go out and get laid."
"Ah, the typical male "Sex solves everything" philosophy. I've tried that before." She got up, having finished her cookie, and dusted the crumbs off her lap.
"Does it work?" Trent asked in spite of himself.
"Well, it doesn't solve things," she said, going over behind his chair, "but it does make life more bearable sometimes." She started giving him a shoulder rub, her touch gentle as she worked out the knots in his shoulder blades. Her long black hair fell down past his face as she leaned over. Trent felt himself melting and decided he needed to either make a decision or get out of there while the getting was good.
Standing up rather suddenly, he turned to face her. "Uh...thanks for the cookie. And thanks for talking with me. I guess I just need to think things through." He grabbed his jacket and headed for the exit.
She smiled blithely; if she was disappointed, she didn't show it. "Anytime. And Trent?"
"Yeah?" He looked over his shoulder.
"If you ever need some...comforting...well, my door is open."
Trent smiled; she really was lovely. "Thanks again. I'll keep that in mind."
~~~~~~~
Daria Morgendorffer Lane woke up feeling nauseous. She immediately shut her eyes and wished she could go back to the blissful oblivion of sleep, but her stomach had other ideas. She got up and quickly headed for the bathroom.
After her stomach's contents had emptied themselves out, she flushed the toilet and sat down on it, her head in her hands. She was pregnant. Even though she had found out almost a week ago, she was still attempting to wrap her mind around the fact. God, was she pregnant. She got the worst morning sickness of anyone she had ever known, which figured, considering the fact that she normally had excellent health. It had been in remission for the past week or so, but apparently it had come back with a vengeance.
She didn't know what she was going to do. First of all, how would she tell Trent? After she had lost their baby, the doctors had told her she probably wouldn't be able to concieve again, yet she had. Unfortunately, with a different man. She had no idea how Trent would take it. He had wanted their kid, but would he want a baby that was genetically Tom's?
Which brought her to the next problem. How would Tom take it? She hoped that she didn't have much to worry about there; Tom wasn't the type that would leave her just because she was pregnant. But what if she decided she wanted to stay with Trent, and Trent didn't want her?
Finally, she decided she would talk it over with Trent. She would be moving back into their house today; tomorrow was the day they had agreed to talk about things. She would have to see how Trent felt before she decided who she would ultimately choose. Because, quite frankly, she loved them both. She just didn't know what she was going to do.
As her thoughts completed their circle, she heard a rapping noise on the door. "Daria? Everything all right in there?" Jane's voice filtered through the crack between the door and the wall.
Getting up, Daria opened the door. "Morning sickness is back, Jane." She put her hand on the doorframe; she was feeling slightly dizzy.
"Oh, dear." Jane was worried about her friend; Daria got the worst morning sickness that she had ever seen in any of her girl friends. "Do you still want to move back in today?"
Daria got herself a glass of water. "Yeah. I can handle things on my own. Besides, I have to work things out with Trent tomorrow. And there's nothing I'm looking forward to more than breaking the news to him that I'm carrying Tom's baby." She paused as she took a drink of water. "Except perhaps getting burned at the stake for adultery."
Jane smiled. "Aw, c'mon Daria, humanity has come farther than that."
Daria was deadpan. "Tell that to the girl I saw in the dumpster the other day."
Jane grimaced. "All right, so maybe we haven't. But look on the bright side...at least it wasn't you in the dumpster."
Daria gave Jane a look. "I feel so much better now. I think I'll go out and sing about how wonderful I'm feeling and how lucky I am and how beautiful the day is." She pretended to look at her watch. "When's the next stake burning, anyway? I'd like to sign up."
Jane threw her hands up. "All right, I give up, you win. I won't try to cheer you up any more. Do you need help packing?"
"No, I got everything done last night."
There was an awkward silence while Jane surveyed Daria. She looked slightly pale from her renewed morning sickness, but there wasn't any particular reason she couldn't manage on her own. Jane finally asked a question, as much to break the silence as anything else. "So have you decided?"
"About Trent? About Tom? About whether I'm going to get a divorce? I have so many decisions to make it's not even funny."
Jane winced; that wasn't the right way to go about asking this. It was a tender subject. "I meant, have you decided what you're going to do with the baby?"
Daria shrugged. "It's Tom's baby too. His opinion should be a factor in what happens. And considering the fact that he doesn't even know it exists right now, I don't think I should make that particular decision yet. Besides, I'm not sure if I could live with myself if I had an abortion. It would be too much like...squandering a second chance."
Jane cocked her head to the side slightly. "Don't get mad at me for asking this, but do you think that's the right reason to keep it?"
Daria was annoyed. "How should I know? I've never done this before."
Jane shook her head; this wasn't going anywhere. "I mean, are you going to be able to take care of it with your life the way it is? Will you feel guilty because of the circumstances of its conception, and perhaps unconsiously project that on the baby? That's a pretty big responsibility for a kid to bear, you know."
"Well, for one thing, I plan on having my life semi-sorted out by the time it becomes an issue, Jane. And for another thing, is this really your business?"
"I don't know. I guess I'm just worried. Come on, let's get your stuff into the car." Jane decided this conversation could wait until Daria wasn't feeling so defensive.
Eventually, they got everything packed into Daria's car and drove off, Jane following in her own car, which was plastered with "I Love Art" bumper stickers as well as window decals from no fewer than 3 different art schools. When they got to Daria's house, Jane helped her unload and went inside to start some coffee.
"So how do you plan on telling him?" Jane asked as she hunted for a coffee filter.
"Well, I thought that I'd ask him to sit down, give him something to drink, and then tell him that I'm leaving him for a career as an exotic dancer somewhere. Just avoid the whole thing." Daria sounded completely serious.
Jane almost choked; somehow she couldn't imagine Daria as an exotic dancer. "Seriously, Daria."
Daria came into the kitchen and showed Jane where the coffee filters were. "Seriously? I have no clue. Maybe you can tell me."
Jane shook her head as she scooped out some coffee. "I have no experience whatsoever in these matters, my friend. You're on your own."
"Darn. And I was hoping you'd encourage me in my new chosen career." Daria leaned back against the counter, sighing. "I guess I'll have to do things on my own."
Jane smiled. "You've always managed so far."
Daria rolled her eyes. "I'm just hoping tomorrow doesn't prove to be the exception to the rule."
~~~~~~~
The next morning, Daria woke up feeling slightly better than she had the previous one, although she did have a sudden urge to clean something. She made her bed, then cleaned her room, grabbed a duster and started dusting the house. After that was finished, she cleaned the bathroom and started lunch. With nothing to do except think until Trent got there, her mind turned toward what Jane had said. What was she going to do with the baby? And should she really keep it just because she might not get another chance? And what about Tom's feelings on the issue? Around 1:00 in the afternoon, the doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts. She got up and opened the door.
Trent stood there, suitcase in hand. "Hey, Daria."
"Hi. Come in." Daria moved aside to allow him room to enter. He stood there looking at her, no emotion showing in his face. She kept hers equally impassive.
"So..." Trent tried to think of something to break the tense silence. "Where've you been? I tried to call you." Great, he thought. Just make it sound like you're accusing her within the first five minutes.
She seemed unruffled, however. "I was staying with Jane. Would you like some coffee?"
Trent mentally smacked himself. Of course she would have the sense to stay with her friend, why would she live alone? "Sure."
Daria went into the kitchen to make coffee. Damn, how am I going to tell him? she thought. This isn't going to be easy. "Coffee will be ready in a minute," she called.
He came into the kitchen. "Daria?"
"Yes?"
"I just want to tell you again how sorry I am about...you know...everything."
Daria fought the urge to cry. Damn mood swings. "It's all right, Trent." She went back to making the coffee. "I have something to tell you." She figured there was no point in beating around the bush.
"What?" Trent looked as if he was mentally preparing himself for the worst. Oh, if only he knew...
"I think you should be sitting down." She handed him a mug of the finished coffee and sat down at the table.
"All right." He sat down across from her. "So what's on your mind?"
She closed her eyes, took a deep, steadying breath, then let it out. "I'm pregnant, Trent."
Trent stared at her. Why did she look so sad? ...then it hit him. "It's not mine, is it." It was a statement, not a question.
She shook her head no. "No...it's not." She looked at the table, tracing the wood grain with her finger.
Trent's mind was whirling. His wife was pregnant. It was what he had wanted, and yet...he suddenly didn't want it. What--? How--? He couldn't seem to form a complete thought, much less a coherent sentence. Finally he got one word out. "Whose?"
Daria looked up at him, and he was startled to see a tear running down her cheek. "Tom's."
Tom. That bastard. Trent's mind abruptly stopped whirling. He got up and pushed his chair back. "I-I have to go."
Daria looked up at him, hurt and pain written all over her face. "Trent, please...don't leave."
He couldn't take it. "I have to go," he repeated, and turned and nearly ran out the door, suitcase in hand.
And, unseen behind him, Daria put her head in her arms and cried.
~~~~~~~
Trent's hands gripped the steering wheel until the knuckles turned white. He only wished the steering wheel was Tom's neck. Damn. How could that jerk have slept with Daria? She was his wife, dammit, HIS WIFE!! He pounded on the dashboard in frustration. What was he going to do?
Food. A rational part of him said he needed food. All right, he would get food. He pulled into a McDonalds, went in and ordered a meal. Taking his tray to one of the plastic seats, he stared blankly at it, trying to remember what it was for. The same rational part of him was telling him to eat the burger, but he suddenly wasn't hungry. He grabbed a bag, tossed the burger and fries into it, and went out the door, taking a sip of the Coke while he was at it.
He got back in his car but didn't start it. Instead he tossed his bag into the passenger's seat and leaned his head against the wheel. His mind was whirling again, he didn't know where to go or what he was supposed to do...
Abruptly his eyes fell on the matchbook, which he had dropped on the floor of the car a few nights ago. Myrna would know. She was Tom's ex-wife, after all. She would know where Trent could reach him, maybe even where he lived, so Trent could go in and get his hands around Tom's neck or head or waist or other part of his anatomy--
Calm down, the same damned rational part of him said. It wouldn't be any use trying to talk to someone in this state. He started the car, breathing deeply and eventually calming down to a reasonable point. Backing out of the lot, he drove to Myrna's house. Might as well see if she really meant that about her door being open.
~~~~~~~
Daria was unsure how long she sat there after he left, but eventually her stomach told her it was time to eat something. She had been too nervous to eat breakfast, and her stomach was (loudly) reminding her of that fact. She got up woodenly and opened the refrigerator. Not much that looked appetizing at the moment. Closing the fridge, she checked the freezer. Frozen lasagna. Comfort food. Daria pulled it out and stuck it in the microwave. The smell reminded her of her teenage years.
After devouring the entire pan of lasagna, she looked in the freezer again, pulling out half a quart of chocolate ice cream. She ate that too, all the while trying to get her thoughts in some semblance of order. Finally she pulled out her notepad --her continual source of security-- and wrote down the facts of her situation.
1.) I am pregnant with Tom's child.
2.) I am currently married to Trent, although the way things are going, that could change in the near future.
3.) I have not told Tom that I am pregnant yet.
4.) I have told Trent; he couldn't take it and ran out on me.
5.) Logically, the next thing to do would be to talk to Tom about this and see how he reacts.
6.) If he runs out on me too I swear I will wring his scrawny neck.
Feeling slightly better, Daria put the notebook away, got up, and went to wash her face. She picked up the phone and dialed Tom's number.
"This is Tom Sloane of Sloane, Inc."
"Tom? This is Daria. Are you busy right now?"
"Actually, I was just about to go eat lunch. Would you like to come?"
"Yes. I need to talk to you about something."
"Uh-oh. Should I be worried?"
Yes. "No, not yet," she said.
"All right. I'll be there in a bit."
~~~~~~~
Tom got into his car and started it. Although Daria had said not to worry, he was slightly worried. She hadn't been using her emotionally-overwhelmed voice, but she had sounded kind of strange. He hoped she was all right. If that Trent bastard had hit her or hurt her in any way, he swore he would kill him...
Calm down, he told himself. She's a grown woman, she can take care of herself. Why are you so worried about her?
Because you love her, you idiot...
Where did that thought come from? And did he?
Well duh...
Tom shook his head. He hated arguing with himself; he always ended up losing. And now that he thought about it, it was true--he really did love her. And from the sound of it, things hadn't gone too well with Trent, which meant that she was available...
Feeling much more cheerful, he pulled up into Daria's driveway. She was waiting for him outside her door. He got out and opened the car door for her, shutting it after she got in. He went back around to the driver's side and got in himself. "So, do you want to eat first or talk first?"
Even after the lasagna and chocolate ice cream, Daria was ravenous. "Eat. Definitely."
"All right. Pizza ok?"
Daria thought for a moment. "Actually, I think I'd like some Chinese."
"Chinese?" Tom was momentarily confused. As a teenager, Daria had hated Chinese food. But maybe her tastes had changed..."I know a great little place downtown. Is that all right?"
Daria shrugged; she suddenly didn't really feel like talking. "Sounds good."
As Tom drove, he glanced sideways at Daria more than a few times. She was acting kind of listless and tired; it worried him. She was probably still fighting off that flu bug she had come down with a couple of weeks ago, he decided. "Are you feeling all right?"
She shrugged again, staring out the window.
Tom realized she wasn't feeling talkative and drove the rest of the way in silence, although he was itching to know what had happened with her and Trent, as well as what was on her mind. But he knew from old as well as recent experience that she wouldn't tell him if he pried; she would have to open up on her own.
When they got to the resturaunt, Daria sat down across from him and traced a pattern with her finger on the tabletop. She didn't look up until they ordered, and even then she wouldn't meet his eyes. He contented himself with watching her downturned face and hair. She finally looked at him, saying, "What?"
Tom gave her his heart-melting smile. "I was just thinking about how beautiful you are."
Daria blushed and looked away again. Tom often caught her off-guard. It was one of the things she found endearing about him, that he could get through her shell in ways no one else could. "Thank you."
Eventually the waitress came with their meals. Daria had ordered a large meal, and immediately began inhaling it. Tom watched in amazement as she finished the entire plate in less than 15 minutes.
Noticing Tom's stare, Daria shrugged slightly. "Um...I woke up hungry this morning and can't seem to eat enough. I already had a pan of lasagna and half a quart of ice cream."
Tom laughed. "You never cease to amaze me, Daria." He handed her his napkin; she had spilt some sauce on her sweater. "So, can you tell me the big news now?"
Daria's mood took an abrupt downswing. Most people couldn't have seen it, but Tom was a businessman; he had trained himself to notice slight changes in facial expression and posture. "I'm not sure I can say it. When I told Trent, it...didn't go well."
"Really?" Tom wondered again what had happened, but decided it could wait. "Well, I promise I won't run out on you."
Her posture stiffened slightly; Tom realized that was probably what Trent had done. "Really?"
"I promise." Tom braced himself.
Daria sighed and said simply, "I'm pregnant."
Tom blinked; he hadn't expected this. "What?"
"Pregnant. Preggers. With child. Knocked up. A little bun in the oven." Daria closed her eyes and took a breath. "I'm going to have a kid..."
Now that the initial shock was over, Tom understood. "...and I'm the father," he finished for her.
She nodded silently, looking at him, searching his face to see what his reaction would be.
"Well," Tom cleared his throat, he wasn't quite sure how to take this. "I'm not sure whether to say congratulations, or I'm sorry, or what."
"I don't care. Just don't run out on me. Please. I don't think I could take it."
"Is that what happened with Trent?" He already knew the answer, but decided he'd rather hear it from her.
"Yes."
"Well, if you're going to have my child, I think maybe I'd better tell you something too." Tom took a deep breath; this wasn't going to be easy to say.
Daria looked at him, slightly surprised. "What?"
Tom sighed himself. "Your kid has a sister."