"Sorry, I, uh…" I gesture to the piano at a loss for words, "it helps me calm down."
"It's no problem; that was actually beautiful playing. I didn't know that was one of your outlets." Dr. Eaton says, still standing just two feet from the door. "This is my son, he goes by Tobias." He says, pointing to the man next to him. I quickly look over Tobias and find no similarities between the two. I suppose they could've had the same hair since Dr. Eaton's is now grey and Tobias' is dark. I remember him telling me his wife died in childbirth with their second child, whom also died. Tobias was seven when he lost his mother. Luckily Dr. Eaton was able to pull it together and be a good father and single parent to Tobias, unlike my father. "Tobias, this is one of my patients, Beatrice."
"You can call me Tris. That's what my friends used to call me." I give a small smile and put my hands down to my sides. Realizing I'm still in my work clothes-a pencil skirt and sheer pink button up shirt-I decide to see what they want and start it before changing into some more casual clothes. "So what do you guys want for dinner? I can make just about anything."
"Whatever works best for you is fine with us."
"How about chicken breast with salad and corn? I already made and salad and it's one of the meals my mother used to make when we had dinner company." Dr. Eaton nods and walks toward the kitchen. "You can make yourself at home; I'll turn on the TV." I head into the living room and turn on the TV, handing him the remote. He thanks me and sits down on the couch, Tobias still standing in the foyer. I give him a small smile before going to my bedroom and changing clothes. I pick a pair of black PINK brand fold over yoga leggings and a sweater with the word PINK across it the chest in sparkly silver letters. My feet are cold, now out of the black pumps, as always, so I pull on some pink with black polka dot fuzzy socks of the same brand as the rest of my outfit. I head into the connected bathroom and take a look at myself. I put on mascara and lipstick this morning, so I leave the makeup be. My hair is still in the big curls I put it in this morning. I finally approve the look and head back into the kitchen. I start by getting out two cans of corn and a sauce pan. Turning the stove up to medium heat, I drain both cans and dump them into the now warmed sauce pan. I grab the chicken breast from the fridge; it's a good thing I thought to put it there this morning so it could thaw. On the balcony, I start the gas grill and set the chicken breast package on the side. A few snowflakes fall on my eyelashes and sweater as I put the meat onto the grill. I close the grill and walk back inside. The corn simmers as I stir it before grabbing a plate and fork, and heading back onto the deck to tend to the meat.
I work on the chicken breasts for a while, forgetting about the corn until I am taking the meat off the grill. Gasping, I drop the meat onto the plate and run back inside with it, only to stop in the doorway. Tobias stands over the stove, stirring the corn. I almost smile at the big muscled man doing such a small and normal task. The thought that maybe one day I'll have a husband and this will be a regular sight nearly brings me to tears. The thing that stops them is the realization that nobody will want to be with the girl that has nightmares and a child because of one bad day in her life. Nobody will want the girl that is mostly skin and bone and eats like a bird. Not one guy will want the girl that has so much horrible baggage that she can't manage to get through a week without having around four panic and/or anxiety attacks and has to see a psychiatrist three times weekly, sometimes more. I sigh and set the chicken on the counter before joining Tobias at the stove and smiling at him.
"What are you smiling at me like that for?"
"It's just odd to see you like this-bent over the stove cooking. I didn't imagine you as that type."
"Well when I realized you were neglecting the corn I thought I might as well help. I mean, you don't really want me here do you? You called my father because he is your psychiatrist I'm guessing?" I nod and he continues, "You wanted to speak with him and his stubbornness about him and I always having our dinner night got in the way of that. I am causing you to not be able to speak with my father about whatever is troubling you. To be honest I don't know what the problem with you is; you seem completely normal to me. In fact, on the way over here I was expecting to see some slightly crazy person. That's who I imagine my father treats every day."
"Well I'm flattered at the fact that you think I'm normal," I say, chuckling a little, "but I see your father at least three times a week-usually more-because some pretty shitty things have happened in my life that screwed me over. How I manage to look normal and keep my job is beyond me." What he says next leaves me taken aback.
"I would love to know what screwed you over so horribly sometime, but I'm not going to force you to tell me." The realization that I can detect a bit of anger in his voice and movements as he says this, along with the fact that he refuses to look me in the eye and it makes me curious.
"Maybe sometime I'll tell you. For now, you can put the corn," I set a bowl down on the counter by the stove, "in here, if you don't mind." I smile again, quickly, before turning around and setting the small kitchen table. I can feel his eyes on me as I put out plates, napkins, and silverware, but ignore it. Eventually the feeling leaves and I turn around to find him dumping the corn into the bowl. He shakes the pot and struggles to get the few last pieces of corn off the sides, so I walk over and put my hand over his on the handle, causing him to stop shaking it and look to me. I continue to ignore him watching me and scrape the excess out with the wooden spoon we used to stir. Putting the wooden spoon in the bowl, I carefully remove his hand from the handle and drop it by his side before turning to the island and rinsing the sauce pan. When I've finished, I put the pan into the dishwasher and carry the bowl of corn and plate of meat over to the table.
"You can have a seat," I say, turning toward Tobias and gesturing to the table. He doesn't move so I walk over to the couch in the living room and invite Dr. Eaton to have a seat. Turning back to the table, I find that Tobias has seated himself so that he can see outside. I desperately hope that Dr. Eaton takes the seat where Tobias is looking so I don't have to be the one to spoil the view for him. Or be the one that he stares at with the lack of anything else. Of course, with my luck Dr. Eaton takes the seat I was hoping to have, so I am forced to sit across from Tobias. I take a seat and he quickly turns his head down, and stares at his plate.
Dinner goes by excruciatingly slow and painful. When we're done, I thank god that I won't have to sit here and make small talk for another millennium.
"So, Dr. Eaton, as you suggested, I got the test. I am pregnant." I bite my lip and a single tear slips out.
"Oh, Beatrice, it's alright. You'll be a wonderful mother." This statement leaves me outraged.
"No, I won't," tears still escape as my weak voice carries on, "you know me. You know personally what has happened to me and that I am not at all capable of being a good parent to this child. In fact, if anything this child will grow to take care of me. I don't want my family to be repeated with this kid, no one else deserves that kind of shitty childhood." My small tears turn to sobs as I look at the not phased Dr. Eaton, awaiting a response. Out of my peripheral vision, I see Tobias looking between the two of us, probably wondering what the hell is going on. I doubt he has any idea what goes on at his father's work on a daily basis.
"Beatrice, you will make a wonderful mother, and I'm sure that sometime you'll find the guy that is perfect to be a good father to the child too. You know how I know? You're not your father. You're you, and you're an attractive, successful, smart, young woman. Although, the one thing I think you'll need to find during the first little bit of your pregnancy is a friend. It could be another pregnant woman, who would probably be very helpful, or any friend. You'll definitely need someone to take care of you. You'll be having cravings, fatigue, morning sickness, nausea, etc. Also, it'll have to be someone stable because you'll be having quite often mood swings." I chuckle a little and he gives me a small smile.
"Thank you, Dr. Eaton, but I hope you don't mind me asking, how do you know all this?"
"Well I did some research when my wife was pregnant with Tobias, here." I look to Tobias, having mostly forgotten he was here. His head is down and I know this has got to be awkward for him. "Also, I observed a lot of it in her, so…" he trails off, also putting his head down.
"Thank you very much. Well, how about dessert? I can make my mom's recipe for apple pie. Tobias' head tilts up to look at his father, who does the same, and nods vigorously. "Great, and I'll turn on the kitchen TV so you can watch it in here while I make the pie. I click on the TV which is still on the news channel. "Is there any certain channel you'd like to watch?"
"The news is fine, thank you." I give a smile and look up to the TV as I start preparing the sugary dessert I'll end up sending home with them since I rarely eat dessert, let alone regular meals. I suppose I'll probably start eating more now since I'm pregnant.
I finish making the pie and put it in the oven, setting the timer for forty minutes. Turning back to the TV, I have a seat in one of the barstools. The news switches from talking about stocks to the weather. In fact, the reason it switched was that there is a travel ban being placed. My face changes to one of shock and I walk over to the window and peek through the curtains I pulled shut earlier. Snow covers everything in a thick blanket, and I am confused as to how it got here from a few snowflakes when I was grilling the chicken only a couple hours ago. I turn around, biting my lip.
"Well, seeing as there is a travel ban and you live nearly half an hour away, would you guys like to stay the night? I have an extra bedroom that never gets used and the couch and loveseats are pullout beds. One of you could take the guest bed and the other mine and I could sleep on the pullout couch."
"Thank you, I don't think we have much of a choice, not that I wouldn't love to stay over. And no that is quite unnecessary, I'll take the couch and you two can have the beds. Besides, you'll have to start sleeping in a certain position and you'll want to get used to it. I'm sure you won't want to be uncomfortable either." Dr. Eaton finishes and smiles, signaling that his point has been made and that the conversation is over.
"If you insist." I smile back and look over to Tobias, who is texting someone. He looks up at me and turns away for a second before turning back.
"I hate to ask, but would you mind if a few of my friends stayed here for now? They were about to leave for home when the travel ban was placed, so now they're stuck here and with nowhere to stay."
"Of course, it's no trouble. I'd love to have them." He smiles and thanks me before looking back to his phone and typing again. Dr. Eaton gives me a worried look, he's thinking about my social anxiety, and how it's probably going to get worse. I just found out I'm pregnant, but somehow, I feel as though people can see the fetus right through my skin. I feel as though the words "pregnant rape victim" are branded on my forehead. Taking a few deep breaths, I give Dr. Eaton a reassuring smile. Maybe this will be good for me; it's like getting out and meeting people but without the getting out part.
I realize that one apple pie probably won't be enough to feed a small group of people, even for one meal, and decide to make a chocolate cake. If I had the ingredients, I would make another apple pie, but I rarely make such things, and therefore do not have the ingredients for multiple of them at any given time. I keep enough for one batch or one of each thing since sometimes I randomly decide that I want to make one of the things my mother used to, which both of these are. Usually, I do it for no reason other than the memories because I obviously can't eat more than a slice without being extremely full for a while. Once the cake batter is finished and I've poured the batter into a pan, I take a seat at a barstool and scroll through my phone. Tons of pictures of my old high school friends getting married and pregnant litter my social media feed. The only difference between me and them is that they mean to be pregnant, and probably not by a rapist, or at least they're happy about it. A knock sounds on the door milliseconds after the oven dings. I quickly hop down from the barstool and switch the apple pie for the chocolate cake in the oven, then dash over to the door and open it, throwing a fake smile on. At the door stands a group of about seven people. In front is a girl with mocha colored skin and short dark hair, a few inches taller than me. My eyes scan over the whole group and find that all of them are taller than me, increasing the heavy feeling in my chest.
"Um, sorry, is Tobias here?" The mocha-colored one asks, her voice a little louder than I'd anticipated, leaving me slightly startled.
"Yeah, guys, I'm in here," Tobias' deep voice startles me more behind me, and my hands start shaking.