Title: These Are The Days
Author: AbbyGirl3476
Summary: Remember 12.10, All About Christmas Eve? Well, here's my take on what we didn't see.
Rating: R, because I never know what I'm going to say.
Spoilers: Nope, not unless you haven't seen season 12. So I won't give you any spoilers, and please don't give me any either.
Author's Note: So I wrote this a while ago, and have been debating whether or not to post it since then. I wasn't going to, but if my memory is correct, this is the anniversary of the very first thing I ever posted at so it seemed a fitting way to celebrate. But this is the first thing I'm posting under this new penname … and anyone who knows my old penname will understand the reason for the change. By the way, the first person to figure out my original penname wins a prize. But back to this story … this is meant to be the first installment in a story where each chapter is based, somewhat, on an actual episode. The chapters will probably be mainly post-eps, but not always, as you'll see in this chapter. I like to think of it as the story of what we didn't see. Or my take on it, anyway. As I said, this is meant to be the first chapter, but whether or not this goes any further will probably depend on part in the kind of response I get. So if you like it and would like to read more … be sure to review. If you have constructive criticism or suggestions … be sure to review. If you don't like it … stop reading. No need to bash it just for fun. If you don't agree with my take on things, well, you can always write your own -- this one is mine. And I'm always looking for a few good editors so if anyone is interested e-mail or IM me on AIM (AbbyGirl3476) … and feel free to IM or e-mail me if you just want to chat about the fic, the show, life in general. But please, no spoilers. Thanks. Oh, and the song lyrics belong to the Van Morrison song from which this story gets its name. The ER dialogue belongs to the powers that be at ER. I hope no one minds me borrowing their words.
These Are The Days
"These are the days now that we must savor … and we must enjoy as we can … these are the days that will last forever … you've got to hold them in your heart"
Chapter 1: Awakening
"Wake up, Abby." It can't possibly be morning already. I crack open one leaden eyelid just far enough to confirm, much to my dismay, that there really is light streaming in from the windows. I groan and burrow a little deeper under the covers, not yet ready to face the day. "Aaabby …" I feel his lips brush lightly against my temple. I smile, but make no move to get out of my cocoon. He kisses my cheek before moving closer to my ear where he whispers, "Get up, sleepyhead." It's gonna take a little more than that to get me moving. Unfortunately, he's figured that out.
"Hey!" I shriek as the covers are yanked off me unceremoniously, plunging me naked and shivering into a cold Chicago morning. "Luka! It's freezing in here!" I sit up and grab for the blanket, yanking it away from him and pulling it up to my shoulders.
"Well, maybe if you weren't naked …" He gives me an evocative grin that is becoming very familiar to me.
"Well, maybe if you hadn't taken off all my clothes …"
"I didn't take off all your clothes." As if he's so scandalized at the thought. "You did."
"No, I didn't."
Now he's laughing at me. "Don't you remember? Last night? You said you wanted to dance for me."
"I don't dance."
"Okay, so maybe it wasn't so much dancing as it was stripping."
"Luka."
"Still, I wasn't the one who took off your clothes."
I open my mouth to protest, but think better of it and clamp it shut instead. What could I say anyway? When he's right, he's right.
"You better get moving," he advises me, with a nod toward the clock. "You wouldn't want to be late. After all, I hear that new boss of yours is a real hard ass."
I narrow my eyes at him, wondering if he's fishing for compliments … either professional or personal. I decide it's best not to take the bait either way. "You know, you could have woken me up sooner," I say instead, noticing that he's already showered and dressed for work. "You've obviously been awake for a while."
"I tried. Several times, in fact. But you were … uh, dead to the world. That alarm was going off right in your ear, and you didn't even budge. I finally gave up and showered without you. I thought I'd give you a little more time to sleep since you were so tired."
"Well, someone kept me up half the night," I say with a yawn.
"I think it was the other around, Abby."
I'm not gonna get into that argument so I turn my back to him, flopping back down on the pillow.
"Oh, no you don't," he says, pulling the blankets away again. "It's time to get up. Come on, Abby, it's Christmas Eve." I look over my shoulder at him, to see his big, goofy grin. "Aren't you excited?"
"Not especially."
"Abby. Where's your Christmas spirit? It's supposed to be fun. You know, tidings of comfort and joy. Goodwill toward man. That sort of thing."
"Uh … huh. And this is all happening tomorrow, huh?" Now it's not like I didn't know that Christmas was coming. You can hardly miss it. What with the halls of the ER being decked, the Christmas carols piped into the Jumbo Mart, and one of those bell ringing Santas on every corner, you'd have to be dead not to realize that the Christmas season is upon us. The problem is, I didn't exactly realize that Christmas was tomorrow. Maybe I should have done some Christmas shopping or sent out some Christmas cards. At least I have a tree. Of course, that's only because Luka showed up with it last week. So holiday cheer isn't a strong point of mine, oh well. I can't believe that it's already Christmas Eve. How did that happen? And why do I find the thought faintly disturbing? It's not the lack of gifts or cards -- that's fairly standard for me, at least these past couple of years. No, it's more about the fact that this month seems to have passed me by in a complete whirlwind. It seems like just yesterday that Luka and I were sitting at Neela's wedding reception, playing at being just friends. And look at us now. But that's a good thing, so what is this nagging bothersome thought that's swimming around in my subconscious that I can't quite seem to put a finger on?
"Actually, it's starting today," Luka says, pulling me away from that elusive idea I was trying to pin down.
"Huh?"
"The ER Christmas party, remember?"
"How could I forget?" Of course, I did pretty much forget, but I wouldn't tell him that. He seems so happy, I don't want to burst his bubble. "I guess you're right … I better start getting ready for the big day."
I reluctantly get out of bed, trying my best to ignore the slight dizziness that I feel when I stand up.
"Good, you go get ready, and I'll go start some coffee." I smile and then snag his robe and head for the bathroom. I turn on the shower first thing, hoping that the water will warm up by the time I'm ready to get in. I jump a little when I catch sight of him out of the corner of my eye, as he lounges against the doorjamb. Is he planning to watch my morning ambulations?
"I thought you went to make coffee."
He doesn't respond to that, but just says, "I can't believe tomorrow is Christmas, can you?"
"Huh? What?" I ask, as I can't seem to keep a train of thought this morning.
"It's just … what's the saying? Tempes fugit … uh, time flies …"
"When you're having fun?" I supply.
"Yeah, that's it," He says, with a smile. "I just don't know where the time's gone, you know?" he asks, echoing my own thoughts. "Strange to think it's already Christmas Eve. "
"Yeah," I say, hoping I don't sound too distracted. "I think I completely lost track of time this month." December 24th already. We're more than three weeks into December already and --
"Well, we've been having fun," he points out. "Hard to imagine that December is almost over … that this year is almost over. In a week, it'll be a whole new year." He closes the gap between us and pulls me into a hug. "A new year … new beginnings …" I can hear the smile as he shares his musings with me. I'm experiencing some musings of my own, but I think it's best not to share those just yet.
"You gonna make that coffee or what?" I ask, pulling my head from his chest and looking up at him.
He laughs a little and smiles down at me. "Yeah, I'll make you your coffee." He drops a kiss on the top of my head before turning and leaving the bathroom. He stops a few feet away, and turns back to look at me, just standing there, staring after him. He wags his finger at me and uses his best disapproving tone to say, "You better hurry, you're late."
'You don't know how right you are, Luka,' I can't help thinking to myself. But I just smile and shut the door before turning to look in the mirror. I slip first one arm out of the robe and then the other , letting it fall to the floor. I step back and study my reflection in the mirror, looking for any subtle signs, any changes to my body. I do a little poking and prodding, for all the good it does me. When I run my hand over my belly, it's not exactly flat, but it doesn't feel any rounder than usual. Well, maybe a little bit, but I can probably thank a constant round of Christmas cookies at the admit desk for that. That's dumb anyway, I chide myself , it would be too soon to expect to find any kind of roundness. A widening of the waist maybe. Does my waist look wider? Maybe. Tough to tell. My pants still fit … well, my fat pants, anyway … so there can't have been too much change. I sigh and continue scrutinizing myself in the mirror. I consider my breasts, which, I'm sure, have not been affected one way or the other by the holiday treats. Maybe they seem swollen, fuller. Maybe the nipples and areola seem a little darker. Maybe I'm just imagining things. But I'm not imaging the tenderness. My breasts are definitely tender, but that could just be PMS.
PMS? Who am I kidding? My period's not due. It's overdue. Way overdue. Late? Yeah, I'm late. Very late. And not just for work. How could I have not noticed this sooner? Well, losing complete track of time this month probably had something to do with it. It's not like I don't have occasion to write the date at work often enough, but somehow it just never sunk in how fast this month was slipping away. And somehow, until this morning, it didn't sink in that what should have already arrived this month still has yet to start as the month is coming to an end. And now that I'm thinking about it, it occurs to me that the details of last month are a little sketchy, too. The fact that I can't remember can't be a good sign. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing I ought to forget. Of course, I have been a little preoccupied. My mind has been on other things. Or one thing in particular … and he's downstairs making me coffee that I don't even want. I've been so wrapped up in what's been happening with Luka and I, just trying to enjoy it, that I think my head's been stuck in the clouds. I guess that's all over now. I should have known. It's been too good to last … too much fun … too easy … too comfortable … and I've been too happy. With Luka. It's been such a shock, but such a wonderful surprise. And now … maybe there's another surprise in store me. But I don't know how wonderful it'll be. Why now? God, if I'm right about this, it's gonna change everything. Maybe ruin everything. No more fun and games, it's gonna get serious in a major way. But maybe … maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe it's nothing. I sigh yet again, knowing what I need to do. I bend over to retrieve the discarded robe, slip it back on and turn off the shower. This isn't something that can wait. I need to know now.
"That was fast," Luka says, as I hurry down the stairs, looking around for my bag and my coat. "The coffee's not even done."
"Yeah, I changed my mind about the shower," I explain. His already puzzled look turns to one that's closer to perplexed, like maybe he thinks I've adopted a new personal hygiene routine that involves showing up to work unwashed and stinky. "I mean, I changed my mind about showering here. I'm gonna go home." He's still staring at me, looking confused. "You know, to my apartment. I'll shower there."
"Why?"
"Why? Uh, because, in general, I think it's a good idea to start the day off clean?"
"No, I mean why are you going home?"
"I don't know, Luka … clean underwear? Clothes that I wasn't wearing yesterday? Little things like that."
"I don't know why you don't just leave some things here," he suggests. Again.
"Uh … I don't know … because … then I wouldn't have any underwear at home?" He raises his eyebrows at me. "Well, I don't own that much underwear. Respectable underwear, anyway."
"Who cares if it's respectable? And you know, you could buy more underwear, Abby. Or maybe …" He moves over to stand in front of me, then reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Maybe Santa will leave some in your stocking."
"I don't have a stocking."
"Then maybe he'll leave some in your shoe."
"Santa Claus is going to leave underwear in my shoe?" I can't help but sound a little incredulous. It's a ridiculous thought. "That's a little weird." He just shrugs. "Anyway, much as I love standing here talking about my underwear, I should get going."
"Don't you want some breakfast?" Food? Food would be good. "I was thinking about making French toast." Oh, now he's playing dirty. I almost agree to stay when my bladder reminds me that I already have to pee like a race horse, and I have to hold it until I get out of here, get a … I'm still having trouble thinking the actual word … pregnancy test, and get home. Best not to take any more time than I absolutely have to.
"No, I better not. But thanks anyway."
"You have to eat."
"I'll grab something on the way."
"Well, how about some coffee at least?" Coffee? Undoubtedly full of caffeine. Probably not the best idea. And to be honest, it really doesn't sound good to me. Not like the French toast … with a little powdered sugar and lots of syrup … my mouth's watering at the thought.
"Abby?" Luka's voice breaks into my food fantasy. "Are you okay?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine."
"Coffee?"
"No, thanks. I better not."
"Why not?"
Why not? Well, gee, to begin with, just the smell of it is enough to make me vaguely nauseous. Also, if I drink even a single drop of anything, I'm gonna have an accident right here on the kitchen floor. And then, of course, there's nothing like a steaming mug of caffeine to stunt the growth of … Jeez, Abby, you haven't even taken the test yet, much less decided … get a grip. And don't listen to that little voice urging you to tell him, I scold myself. Even though a part of me wants nothing more than to open my mouth and spill my guts, I know it's not the right thing to do. Why worry him with this when there may be nothing to worry about, right? Right. It may be nothing at all. And besides, I can worry enough for the both of us.
"Uh … I just should get going, that's all."
"Well, you can take it to go. I'll put it in one of those travel mugs." I 'd tell him not to bother, but I'm probably not gonna get out of here until I accept the coffee. "We're out of creamer, but I can put some milk in it."
"Black's fine." Whatever gets me out of here before I pee in my pants.
"You don't like it black."
"I do today." I've already got my coat on and my bag slung over my shoulder.
"Okay, whatever you say," he gives in with a little chuckle, handing me the mug of coffee which I do my best not to smell.
"Thanks," I say with a smile, taking the mug and heading for the door. "So … I'll see you at work?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Okay … bye." I hope I don't look as flustered as I feel.
"Bye." He's laughing again, apparently amused by me. I hope he hasn't noticed my unease this morning.
My sense of distress is alleviated a little bit once I slip out the door. At least I don't have to worry about sending out signals I don't really want him to pick up on … or blurting out something I don't really want him to hear. I hurry the few blocks to the L station, dumping out my coffee in a melty patch of yellowed snow. I find myself dancing a little jig as I wait for the train but I'm not sure if it's to ward off the cold or appease my bladder. Either way, I'm relieved when the train pulls up and I can hurry on and claim a seat in an empty car. It's at the next stop that I get company in the form of a rather frazzled looking thirty-maybe-forty-something woman and a cute baby, presumably belonging to her. When they sit down across from me, I resolve not to look and instead turn to look out the window. But the coos and giggles are hard to resist. And when I get the feeling that someone is watching me, I turn to meet the stare of a smiling, rosy-cheeked baby decked out in a little Santa suit under her pink coat. Between the big blue eyes and the wispy blond curls peeking out from under the Santa hat, I can't help smiling back at the toothless grin.
"She's adorable," I say when I catch the mother's eye.
"Thank you."
"How old is she?"
"Five months." Five months. It doesn't take a math whiz to figure that one out. The exact age that my … well, a year from now that could be … God, Abby, cut that out, I scold myself. I mean, even if I really am … well, that doesn't mean that a year from now this will be me. The thought is too overwhelming to deal with right now. And first things first. I have to find out if my instincts are even right. I find my hand straying to my stomach as if I might get some sort of vibe, physical or otherwise. How much longer am I going to be stuck on this train, anyway? Distraction. Distraction is the key. I catch the baby's eye and give her a big exaggerated grin, causing her to wriggle and smile.
"Her first Christmas. That must be fun." I say to the mom, thinking that a little conversation might make the time go faster.
"Yeah, it is," she agrees. "Hectic, but fun. I don't remember it being this much work when my other kids were little, but it's nice to have a little one around again. I'd forgotten how much fun that is."
"How old are your other kids?"
"Twelve and fourteen. Too old for Santa. And all teenage boys want for Christmas is video games … or money. Not that much fun to buy or wrap."
"Wow. Fourteen, twelve, and five months. That's a pretty big gap."
"Well, she was pretty big surprise. But it worked out well. We always wanted a little girl so … and it's sweeter the second time around. Of course, you also know exactly what you're in for … so it's scarier the second time around too."
'And is it worth it?' I want to ask, but don't. But I wonder …
"Well, this is our stop," the mother says, gathering the baby, the diaper bag, her purse, and a few shopping bags before struggling to the door. "Merry Christmas," she says as they depart.
"Merry Christmas," I say, waving to the baby who is watching me over her mother's shoulder. I'm still staring after them as the doors slide shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
By the time the next stop rolls around, I can't sit still any longer. It's one stop before mine, but I figure I might as well get off the train here since I have to find a drug store on my way home anyway, and I'm pretty sure I'll pass one on this route. As luck would have it, there's one just a block from the el. It's a small store and it doesn't take me long to find the euphemistically titled 'family planning' aisle. I roll my eyes at the idea. After all, there was nothing planned about this. I march past the selection of apparently useless drug store contraceptives and find the display of about fifty different home pregnancy tests. There's one that will detect it the earliest (five days before your missed period, but I way beyond that stage), one that will detect it the fastest (in less than one minute, but you pay a pretty price for that convenience), but since I don't need either of those functions, I opt for the one that will detect it the cheapest. A store brand that claims it will give results perhaps as fast as one minute but not more than three. Good enough for me. They're all the same anyway. This one that I have in my hand does stress using the first morning's urine sample so as to get the highest concentration of pregnancy hormones, should they happen to be present. But since I'm still holding that first sample of the day, this ought to work just fine. I'm about to head for the checkout when I notice the two-pack. Never hurts to be sure, right? In fact, maybe I ought to get a couple two-packs. Or maybe … I sweep several of the boxes into my arms and head for the register.
I'm happy to see that the kid behind the register could not be more bored and apathetic. My purchase -- over fifty bucks in pregnancy tests -- doesn't seem to interest him in the least … and probably wouldn't in any case, unless, of course, I happened to be buying some sort of girl-on-girl smut magazine. But something so mundane as a few pregnancy tests doesn't even seem to register with him. I wish I could be as blasé about the whole thing. But then it's my life that it's on the line. Well, my life as I know it anyway. Because the minute I pee on this stick, everything changes. Even if, by some chance, it should happen to be negative, I feel like things will change. Maybe things have already changed. Or maybe I have.
At any rate, it's a strange feeling, walking into my apartment, bag full of pregnancy tests in hand, the shape of my future hanging in the balance. I feel like I'm moving in slow motion, even though I know perfectly well that I'm not. Mostly because of my great need to urinate. I was practically hopping up and down with my legs crossed in the pharmacy … by now the situation has grown even more urgent. I move into the bathroom and open up the test, consulting the directions. I didn't really think directions saying "pee on the stick" were necessary, but apparently they are. In fact, they're very specific, telling you how long to pee before you pee on the stick, how long to pee on the stick, what to do with the stick after you've peed on it. And my personal favorite instruction would be the one about hand washing. Yeah, I never would have thought of that on my own. I toss the instructions figuring that as long as I manage to get any pee anywhere on the stick, for any amount of time it ought to be fine. Luckily, I've got so much saved up that there's not much need to be precise about anything. And once the pressure on my bladder is finally relieved, all there is to do is wait. Oh, and wash my hands, of course, as per the instructions.
Okay, so now all I have to do it wait one to three minutes. Sure, no problem. Sixty seconds from now everything … and I mean, everything changes. But hey, no pressure. I stay in the bathroom, alternately rooted to the spot, staring at the stick for any sign of change or manically pacing back in forth in the small space. Ahh! This must be the longest minute ever. Certainly the longest minute of my entire life. It has to have been more than a minute. I've already counted to sixty twice. Using the one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi method and everything. I look at my watch. But then I realize I didn't bother to consult my watch when I was taking the test … after all I was a little bit busy at the time. So it does me no good to know what time it is now if I don't know what time it was then.
Oh God, why didn't I buy at least one one-minute test? It definitely would have been worth the extra five bucks to know by now. What's wrong with this test anyway? Maybe it's defective. Maybe I should get out the next one. Nothing's happening and it must be a least two minutes. Where's the box? Didn't the box say that it would take three minutes at the most? Hasn't it been three minutes? What kind of torture is this? Okay, maybe I just need to calm down. God knows I'm gonna freak out enough when I see the results of this test. That is, if I ever get any results. If the test ever works. I just need to take a deep breath and be patient. It can't be much longer now … in fact, I'm sure that the next time I look at the test, the results will be there … not just the faint control line, but a clear result.
I look at my watch again … it's two minutes since I looked at it the last time so it must be time by now. I stop pacing long enough to glance over at the counter where the test stick rests. I can't see the top of it, where the results are displayed, from here … I'm gonna have to walk over there and look at it. It's only a few feet away. Such a short distance to go to see your future. And yet, I can't seem to move. I want to know. But at the same time, I don't. I take a deep breath … again. Now or never. And I know there's no way I can get through the day not knowing. Okay … here goes. I move slowly toward the sink. I don't look down at the test on the counter, but I look into the mirror. Abby, are you ready for this? No, I'm not. But I look anyway.
There it is. Bright as can be. Blue lines. Blue lines for positive. Positive as in pregnant. Pregnant. How in the world did I let this happen? And what am I supposed to do now? It hits me like a ton of bricks. Somehow, until this moment, I didn't really believe that it was true. Even doing the math this morning, even knowing that the odds were on a positive result, even the nagging nameless worry that's been floating around in my mind just below the level of consciousness these past few weeks … none of it was enough to prepare me for this moment. A moment I never really thought I'd see. I might have imagined it, but I never really believed I'd see it. And now … Oh, God … Oh my God. I look up from the test stick to my image in the mirror … just in time to see the first tear slide down my cheek.
The trip into work is surreal, to say the least. I can't seem to focus on anything but the memory of those blue lines. I stared at that first test for a while before it occurred to me that I should get ready for work. I gulped down some breakfast, and then went back to look at the test, make sure that it really was positive. I turned on the shower, and then went back to double check the test. When I got out of the shower, I looked at it once more. It was then that I started to wonder if maybe it was wrong. You're not supposed to get false negatives with these tests, but I figured maybe I did it wrong, and it wouldn't hurt to try again. The second time, I stared at the test strip the whole time, watching the blue lines appear. Another positive result … and this time it wasn't even the first morning's urine with all its concentrated hormones. With the second positive test, holding out hope that maybe it's wrong got a lot harder. Still, I was considering collecting a cup of pee and dipping all the tests in it at once when I glanced at my watch and realized the time. Late as I was, I had no choice but to steal one last look at those positive pregnancy tests and then head to work.
It's a wonder that I manage to remember the way. By some stroke of luck, I also happen to remember that damn cake that I'm supposed to pick up for the ER party, and so I swing by the bakery, where I wander in and out of the place on autopilot . I'll never know how I managed to remember a detail as small as a cake when I feel like I can't even remember my own name. It's all just too weird. I feel like I'm in the middle of a dream. Because this can't be me. Pregnant? Impossible. How did this happen? Well, okay, I know how it happened. Your average 3rd grader knows how it happened. But still, it can't be real. It's just … impossible. Except, of course, that it's not. I mean, it's not like I haven't been having sex lately … a lot of sex, in fact. Not that it took a lot of sex to get me pregnant. One time. That's all it takes. Of course I've always known that, but it's a little bit different learning it first hand. And I'm learning all over again that no matter how careful you are … Guess I'm more fertile than I ever would have suspected. Lucky me.
I guess I am lucky … Certainly I'm lucky that this didn't happen the first time around with Luka. I shudder to think what a disaster it would have been then. Hell, I'm having a tough enough time wrapping my brain around it now. And things are good … really good between us this time. It's so much better than what we had before. Which makes sense, since this time we really know each other, and we've built a …relationship on a much more solid base. But still, I have no idea where this … thing with Luka and I is going. I don't ever really know what I want out of it, much less what he wants. All I know is that we've been having fun, really enjoying each other. And I just wanted it to stay like it that for awhile. I wanted a chance to just enjoy a happy, comfortable, uncomplicated relationship …something we missed out on that first time. And this time things have been so different … I've seen such a different side of Luka, and I'm loving every minute of it. Fun and laughter have sort of been the hallmark of our time together lately, and I was in no hurry to change that. And now … this. Suddenly, the fun and laughter of a light, easy relationship will become a thing of the past. Suddenly, there's a lot more at stake here than we ever would have imagined. And if the stakes are higher … well, suddenly, everything becomes so much more serious. How are on earth are we gonna handle something like this? Something so unplanned, so unexpected. I worry … I worry what this is going to do to Luka and I. I know it's gonna change everything. Nothing will be the same. We can't ever go back to the carefree days we've known these past few weeks. And that's my big regret. That those days are over forever now. Nothing will be the same … and what if … what if this ruins everything?
What if we're not on the same page about this? God, I don't even know what page I'm on. I don't know what I want. Well, no, if I'm honest … I know what I want … but it's not that easy. Not for me. So many things to think about… so many questions that I have to ask myself. I don't even know if I should be considering keeping this baby. And yet … I am considering it. Almost in spite of myself. A part of me feels like I have no business even thinking about having a baby. I know it's crazy. Probably a very bad idea. For most of my life, I've thought of motherhood as something unattainable for me, and I decided a long time ago that I'd be better off if I just didn't think about it. But now this … It feels like a second chance … maybe a last chance for me. If I don't have this baby now, I'll never be a mother. And maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. Maybe I'm not meant to have children. I've worked very hard at making myself believe that, and I've been pretty successful convincing myself. But then there are moments … like this morning, on the train. And it's moments like that, that have me thinking about actually having this baby. The first time I was pregnant, there wasn't anything to think about, nothing to consider. I knew what I had to do. My panic at the thought of a bipolar child was just too much for me to handle at that point in my life. Not to mention all the other strikes against me then. There was just no way … no way I could even think about keeping that baby. So I didn't. I just took care of it, as quickly as possible, without telling anyone. I knew it was the only thing I could do. It's not like that this time. Not exactly. I'm scared. Scared of having it. Scared of not having it. Scared of telling Luka.
But I know I have to tell him. Right away before I lose my nerve. I just don't know how he's going to take this news. I have a pretty good idea of what he's going to want. And that scares me too. Because what if he wants it, but I just can't? Or what if I decide I want to keep it, and he doesn't want me as the mother of his child? If we can't agree on this … Nothing in the world would spell disaster for a relationship faster than that. And even if we both want the same thing … and even if he's willing to support me no matter what … how would we survive it? And what if I have to choose between what he wants and what I need … or if I let the fear make this decision for me … well, I just don't know … There's only one thing I know for sure. I need to tell him. I need to tell him right away. I'm not gonna make the same mistake I made last time. I thought I was doing the right thing then. And maybe it would be a kindness to Luka not to tell him … maybe if I knew for sure that I couldn't keep it … but no, I can't do that. I don't know what I want to do … but I know he should be a part of the decision. He needs to know. As soon as possible. Of course, I have to find the right time, but still … this isn't something I want to keep from him. Not even for a day. Frankly, I don't know how I'm gonna manage seeing him, talking to him, without blurting it out. But I want to do it in the right way. And at the right time. But maybe today's not the right time. It's Christmas Eve, after all. And he's so excited about Christmas, I certainly don't want to ruin it for him. Maybe I should wait. No, it's better to tell him right away, Christmas or not. And maybe someday I'll end up being glad I told him on Christmas Eve, if … first things first, Abby, I remind myself.
I'm standing in the ER, ostensibly sorting through my messages, but these are the thoughts that are running through my head. And when Luka suddenly appears, whispering in my ear, I jump a mile, startled out of my reverie, and scrambling to appear normal. I'm certainly not going to give him life-altering news as we stand here discussing our Christmas plans. It's such a light moment, full of jokes and easy camaraderie that I wouldn't want to spoil it. And besides, this certainly isn't the right time. Best that I just go get changed --without his help, thank you very much -- and get to work. Maybe I'll be able to get my mind off of it by throwing myself into work.
Good plan. Too bad it doesn't work. Oh, I'm not so spacey that I can't manage to tend to my patients, but no matter what I'm doing all day, even when I'm incredibly focused on the task at hand, it's still there. Still in the back of my mind. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. Almost as steady as the beating of my heart. Preg-nant, preg-nant, preg-nant, the word being pounded out with every heartbeat. I can't stop thinking about it. It's just always there in the background. I'm saying all the right things to everyone, smiling in all the right places, which actually isn't as hard to do as I might have thought. Because even with all the fear and trepidation, there's this little tiny part of me that actually feels … happy? Excited? But I know I can't let myself give in to that part of me that wants to be happy. I have to think this out. I can't just do what sounds good at the moment … this is the most important decision I'll ever make. And that weighs heavily on me. And yet … that steady refrain in the back of my mind all day long … pregnant, pregnant, pregnant … one minute it almost brings a smile to my face, and the next it scares the hell out of me. Every time I see Luka, my stomach turns over. And it's not morning sickness either.
When he insists on conferring with me in the drug lock-up, it's all I can do to keep my mind on the conversation … the bantering about Christmas gifts. At one point, I almost tell him right then and there before thinking better or it. If I can barely concentrate on work, what would it do to him? We don't need two of us totally spaced out. And he's the boss now so it's really not a good idea to lay something like this on him in the middle of a shift. He'll know soon enough. But this is not the right time. So instead, I tell him he's gonna love what I got him - where the hell did that come from ?- all the while hoping that somehow these aren't going to be the last few happy moments we'll ever spend together. Anyway, he doesn't even believe that I got him anything. Which is probably because I didn't. Get him anything, that is. Well, I didn't get him anything except … some Christmas gift. An unexpected pregnancy. A child that whether or not we want, I'm not sure we should have. Merry Christmas. Maybe I shouldn't tell him. Maybe I should wait. But maybe he'd want to know right away. Oh, God …
I'm still trying to decide what to do that evening as I head down the street to Ike's and the infamous ER Christmas party. All day long I haven't been able to get it … you know, it out of my mind. I even signed up for Haleh's audition in the hopes of getting my mind off it. And instead I ended up singing Silent Night … holy infant, so tender and mild …Jesus Christ. I can't get away from it. Even buying Luka a snow globe and slapping a bow on it, all I'm thinking about is the real Christmas surprise I have for him. And now, walking into Ike's, spotting him at the bar, my heart is thumping in my chest, my palms are sweaty, and I'm sure my knees must be knocking too. But I smile brightly when he catches my eye and join him at the bar for a little gift exchange. He unwraps his Jumbo Mart snow globe, sweetly pretending to be thrilled with it. And then I unwrap his gift. A compass. Because 'we always find each other.' Oh, crap. I have to tell him. God, I don't want to ruin this. But there's just no way around it. It's now or never. And it can't be never so …
"Can we talk?" His face falls the moment the words are out of my mouth. He looks crushed already. And he has no idea what's in store for him. But he follows me outside anyway. He turns to look at me, undoubtedly wondering what I've called him out here to talk about. Whatever he might suspect, I'll bet it's nowhere near the truth. I take a deep breath and plunge in. Sort of. It's so much harder than I thought it would be. I find myself rambling on about how happy we've been and how I don't want to doing anything to screw it up. Luka tries to reassure me that I'm not gonna mess anything up, but he has no idea.
"Luka …"
"Yeah." He sounds just a little bit impatient, like he's wishing I would get on with it already.
"Oh, man …" This is it. The moment that changes everything.
"What?" His voice is softer now, reassuring. I can tell be his tone that he knows that something is really wrong, and he just wants to know what it is … so that maybe he can make it better. Oh, Luka …
I just have to say it. So I do. "I'm pregnant."
So much for easing into it. I just dropped it on him with no warning. And he's stunned. Shocked. I know the feeling. I'm waiting for his reaction, but he's just staring at me. I'm staring at him, he's staring at me. Nobody's saying anything. Talk about a pregnant pause. I'm not really sure what to do. I open my mouth to say something … to ask him to say something, but I can't seem to make any words come out.
He's the one to finally break the silence. "Pregnant?" I don't speak, I just nod silently. I can't tell what he thinking. I wonder what he'll ask me next. If I'm sure? If it's his? No, he wouldn't ask that. As it turns out, he doesn't ask anything else. He just regards me carefully for a moment, looking as if he feels as befuddled as I do.
"I'll be right back," he says as he hurries back toward Ike's and heads inside. Great, it's driving him to drink already. Okay, I know that's not true. And sure enough, he's back in few minutes, having collected the stuff we left behind.
"Let's go home," he suggests. And then he strides off down the street toward the el. I find myself trotting behind him, trying to catch up. He goes up the stairs to the platform to wait for the next train, and I just follow after him. We still haven't exchanged more than that handful of words. And that hasn't changed by the time the train arrives. He ushers me onto the el and then into a seat, sitting down next to me. We ride, staring ahead, locked in silence, locked in our own thoughts. Of course, my thoughts run mostly to wondering what he's thinking. I glance over at him, hoping for a clue, but I can't read the expression on his face. I don't think he's noticed me stealing glances at him until I feel his hand slip into mine. When I turn to look at him, I find him looking back at me. Our eyes meet, and I search his for any hint as to what he's thinking.
And then he smiles at me. A slow, soft, comforting smile. "It's gonna be all right, Abby," he says, squeezing my hand. I blink away the tears that pop suddenly into my eyes, but not fast enough to keep him from seeing them. He pulls me to him, into an awkward hug. "It really is going to be all right." I pull back and look at him, not daring to believe him. "It's not the worst thing that could have happened."
I laugh at that, but it's not a happy sound. "It's not?" I wonder what it is that he thinks could be worse.
"I thought … when you wanted to go outside and talk … I thought you were gonna say that you didn't want to see me anymore. You know."
"Oh. Not exactly." I look down at my hands as they twist a button on my coat. "I'm sorry," I whisper, biting my lip.
"For what?" He tries to catch my eye, but I turn away, looking out the window into the dark night. He reaches over and put his hand on my cheek, gently turning my head toward him. "Hey … things happen for a reason." Yeah, I think, because no form of birth control, save abstinence, is foolproof. But I don't say anything, I just look at him. "Sometimes … we can't see the reason. Sometimes not for a long, long time. But that doesn't mean there isn't one."
I nod, thinking about what he said. He may be right. But that doesn't exactly help me. If I can't see the reason, how am I supposed to know what to do? I know what he's getting at, though, and I know where he stands. Now if I could just figure out where I stand. But that's going to take more than just this conversation, more than just tonight.
We slip back into silence. I'm grateful for the chance to just think. But I'm also grateful to have him here, next to me, on this speeding train that is carrying me toward home, but into an uncertain future. I reach out, fitting my smaller hand into his bigger, stronger hand. I'm going to need that strength, and all the support he can muster … so that I can make the hardest decision of my life.