Disclaimer: My first word was 'mine'. I really wish I could apply it to this show, but I can't. Also the Harlequin novel mentioned does exist. I just didn't feel like looking up the author.
A/N: I am LOVING my reviewers! You're all wonderful and I really appreciate your reviews. Wishing you all Coffee 'n' Cuties, let me know what you think!
Dedication: To Ellie, my fabulous beta reader, thank you so much for taking time to deal with my many errors. You're the best!
Chapter Three:
You're still the only one Who will never change facesI guess you're the only one left standing
When everything else goes down
Just 'cause it's all in your head
Doesn't mean it has to be in mine Don't believe what you said still can't get it out of my mindShe stared in disbelief at the object before her, horrified, it had to be wrong. There was some mistake, she wasn't some reckless schoolgirl, she knew better.
But no, this was the second test she had taken; it was the "error-proof test". It was true. Oh god, she thought, this is like the title of a really cheesy Harlequin novel And the Stick Turned Pink. She glanced down again at the test. Yep, it was pink.
She was pregnant.
Louise collapsed back on her bed, thankful her roommate had decided to go home for spring break, the last thing she needed was someone asking annoying questions like: 'What was she going to do?', 'Who was the father? ,''Hmm…how much damage have you caused it already?' and of course 'What makes you think you could ever be a mother?'
She didn't know what she was going to do. Okay that was a lie; she knew she just didn't want to say the word aloud, because that made this whole thing real. As for the father…it had to be her current boyfriend, Brock. Ugh why was it that all the boys she dated had stupid names? Must be God's way of evening the odds, poor kids got normal names and rich kids get named after dead relatives. But that wasn't the subject at hand. She was only eight weeks along and so it could only be Brock. It wasn't as if he was some sterling candidate for fatherhood.
Speaking of 'sterling' behavior all the smoking and drinking couldn't have been good for the—for the baby. It wasn't like she knew, and she hadn't done any hardcore drugs since sophomore year, but still what if she had already hurt the baby? It shouldn't matter since she couldn't have it. She just couldn't. Her a mother, the whole idea was laughable, and vaguely terrifying.
Louise didn't have a maternal bone in her body. She never "oohed and awed" over babies. She was never comfortable around the little heathens. They were loud and messy and needed attention 24/7. And being a selfish creature herself, those things didn't mesh well.
How could she be a mother when she never had a real example? Louise didn't have a mother growing up, she had nannies. And they weren't like Mary Poppins or even like Paris's Nanny, they were employees doing their job, and that was it. She was only twenty-one years old. She was set to graduate in the spring. There was no room for a baby.
She knew what she had to do. She picked up the telephone by her bed and searched for the scrap of paper on which she had jotted down a number in black eyeliner. Steeling herself she dialed the number.
Jess heard the phone ringing is his new apartment; problem was he wasn't exactly sure where the phone was. Clearing his head he deduced the sound was coming from under a pile of dirty laundry.
"Hello." He rasped into the phone. He was pissed off that someone had interrupted his rest; he had only fallen asleep a few hours ago.
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before the voice came through. "Hello handsome."
He smiled in spite of his roaring headache. "Hey Lou. What's up?"
Louise twirled the phone cord unconsciously, trying to think of how to broach the subject, and coming up with nothing. "Same old. How's the new place? Happy to be back in New York? Although I'm sure you're missing the sun drenched west and those California girls. Not that New York doesn't have its good points, but I guess you know that being as you—"
"What's wrong?" he asked cutting her off. Louise never rambled; she considered it a worthless trait, and she firmly believed in saying what you mean to say and leaving it at that. Rambling was just superfluous in her opinion.
She took a deep breath once again trying to make the words appear. But all she could say was "I need your help."
With no hesitation Jess responded, "I'm on my way."
And it was as simple as that.
Within a few hours he was at her door and an hour after that he had the full story. He listened without judging and without condemning her decision. Instead he phoned a clinic he knew and made an appointment for the next day and promised to go with her. So the next day they were both on a train going back into the city.
Jess looked up from his dog-eared copy of On the Road to find Lou staring blindly out of the window instead of perusing the latest issue of Cosmo.
"You know you have to go through counseling first right?" he asked.
She nodded still not looking at him. "I know, I've seen the same Lifetime movies as you, but it's not going to change my decision."
"They're going to ask about the father. Well, they're probably going to assume it's me."
"Don't worry darling, I'll set them straight." She answered with a dry laugh.
"Are you sure you don't want to tell this guy?"
Her head whipped around, her eyes finally meeting his, "Yes. He doesn't matter. He just happens to be the guy whose condom broke. That's it."
"I get that. But still…"
"Do you think he'd want this baby?"
Jess just shrugged, already regretting bringing up the topic.
"Trust me he wouldn't. He's a great accessory. Good looking, decent conversationalist and a great fuck. But that's it. If I were to keep this pregnancy it would mean marriage. And he is not marriage material. He's new money from the south, making him totally unacceptable. My father would kill me. The most Brock would do is stutter and offer me money for the abortion. I don't need that and I sure as hell don't need him." She said scathingly.
"Got it." Jess muttered and went back to his book.
"Good." She replied moodily and went back to staring out the window.
By the next day it was all over. The problem had been taken care of; at least that's how Louise tried to think of it. Because when she thought of it in the clear-cut terms of baby and—no baby, it hurt, and she hurt enough already.
The doctors had explained there would be pain during the recovery but she hadn't expected this. She was thankful, though she may not fully admit it, that Jess convinced her to stay at his apartment for the next few days. He had been taking care of her. It was odd, but at the same time very comforting and even a little bit charming.
"I'm back." He yelled as he slammed the door to his dingy apartment. Lou rolled her eyes as if she hadn't heard him come in.
"Don't roll your eyes Blondie." He mocked with an easy grin. "I come bearing gifts."
"Oh did you get the movies I asked for?"
"Yes. And I got the best Chinese food in Manhattan. So prepare to worship me."
"You've really got to work on that ego."
"What ego?" Jess asked innocently.
She heaved a heavy sigh and said, "You're deplorable. Now hand over my bourbon chicken."
"You didn't say please."
"I don't need to. I don't resort to begging. It's beneath me."
Jess raised his eyebrows and smirked. "As I recall you seem to do a lot of begging when you're beneath me."
"Just give me the damn food." She growled, glaring at him.
"As you wish." He chuckled, handing over her share of the food and putting the first video in his beat up VCR. They sat in relative silence for a while—just eating and watching the movie when out-of-the-blue Louise announced:
"I would have made a great courtesan."
Jess almost choked on his rice. "What?!"
She airily repeated her statement as she delicately picked through the vegetables. "Look at Satine", she said referring to Nicole Kidman's character in Moulin Rouge, "I would have made a better courtesan than her. I am a better one than her."
"Lou, you do realize that 1) this is a MOVIE and 2) a courtesan is just a fancy name for a—"
"Whore" she finished his sentence. "I know. What else would you call a woman who enjoys sex but not necessarily people? I don't take money but that's because I don't need it. It's a cold profession but I am cold. I'd make a good courtesan."
"Lou—"
"No, I would. Better a courtesan than a mother."
Jess sighed and ran his fingers through his hair; he really didn't know how to say what needed to be said. "Lou, you're not cold. Not in the way that you're thinking. And you're not a whore, nothing close to it. Just because you enjoy sex doesn't make you one—you used to understand that. And one day, I think you'll make a great mom. Just not now… You did the right thing."
She felt her throat close up with tears she refused to shed. She didn't want to be a mom; she wouldn't have been any good at it.And she knew it! So why did it hurt?
Jess closed his eyes in resignation he didn't know what else to say. He wasn't the guy who gave flowery speeches, hell he didn't give speeches. So he just opened his arms and gruffly commanded, "Come here."
She crawled into his arms and he cradled her, yet she didn't cry. She wouldn't let herself.
So he leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, "It's okay to be sad. I won't tell."
And it was then that she let herself cry and allowed herself to mourn for someone who would never be. She cried without sound, just tears silently tracing their way down her cheeks to her heart. To the part of her heart, that until today she didn't know she had existed.
He watched her cry and felt his own heart break just a little, and knowing he could do nothing else, he just held onto her, and let her grieve.
