As he lies nestled in his covers on his comfortable mattress he finds it difficult to fall asleep. He stares up at the ceiling, and once again runs through Sarah's out of character behavior. First, and most recent is her tardiness. Most people he wouldn't think twice about being twenty three seconds late. He knows how well her internal clock works. The idea of her being late strikes him as alarming. He moves onto the distance she has been putting between them.
It is quite apparent that she is hiding something from him. He furrows his brow. What is with her sudden disinterest, and utter disgust at the mention of coffee? Then of course there is the incident with her eating eggplant lasagna willingly. In fact for lunch that day she ate some sort of salad instead of a burger. The day before that she shot down his idea to eat at the hotdog stand.
Her mood strikes him as odd, too. As of late it seems incredibly labile. He tries to think of another time when he's seen her cry. It isn't like her to break down in front of him, and never at work. She's a marine, and she always keeps a stiff upper lip in a professional setting. He wonders if she's been drinking again, but for the first time he dismisses the idea.
It is obvious that she is hiding something from him. There is clearly something that she doesn't want to know. She's admitted drinking to him. Which quite frankly doesn't sit well with him. Her behavior doesn't seem to add up. He recalls a time in the past in which she showed up to work inebriated. Her current behavior is not consistent. The nausea, and vomiting he's chalked up to being hung-over. He gets a nagging feeling at the pit of his stomach.
"So if she's not drinking, then what is it?" He questions aloud.
It's after midnight, and she's still wide awake. She sits in her bed reading. With each page she becomes more concerned with all of the potential complications. She places her sonogram picture in the book to mark her place. She places the book on her nightstand, and reaches for the lamp. She flips it off, and settles under the covers. Just as she gets comfortable someone begins banging on her door. She furrows her brow, and glances at the clock in disbelief. She lies in her bed in silence, hoping that it will stop, and whoever is at her door will give up, and go away. The knocking doesn't stop. She pushes aside her covers, and crawls out of bed. Her bare feet smack against the floor. She flips the light on in the living room. She looks the peephole.
"What are you doing here?" She questions.
"Let me in."
"It's after midnight, go home."
"We need to talk."
"I need to sleep. I have to be in court first thing in the morning."
"So do I, Mac."
"I am exhausted. Harm I don't feel like having another argument with you tonight."
"Mac I swear I will bust this door down."
"What the hell is your problem?"
"Let me in!"
She unlatches, and unbolts the door. She pulls he door open, and begrudgingly lets him in. She folds her arms across her chest.
"What makes you think that it is okay to show up here in the middle of the night?"
"What makes you think that it is okay to lie to me?"
"What am I lying to you about?"
"It is a lie by omission."
"Look, I don't have time for his. Whatever you have to say, it can wait until tomorrow."
"No, it can't, he disagrees.
"Then I suggest that you tell me why you're here, and you make it quick."
"How long have you known."
She furrows her brow, "Known what?"
"Don't play dumb, Mac. You know what I am talking about."
"No, I don't."
"I keep thinking about how you've been behaving lately. You're suddenly tardy. You show up smelling like mouthwash, because you've been puking. One day I notice that you're no longer drinking coffee. At first I chalked everything up to you admitting that you had been drinking again. The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. You wouldn't have admitted that to me, even if it were true. You certainly wouldn't have broken down about it, in front of me, at work. I was lying in bed tonight trying to make it all make sense, and finally it did."
"Good for you. Can I go to bed now?"
"No, we're not done here," he argues.
"I think that we are," she disagrees.
"You're pregnant, aren't you?"
She breaks eye contact. She moves towards the couch, taking a seat on the arm.
"Mac answer me, dammit! Are you pregnant?"
She swallows hard as her eyes fill to the brim with tears, "Yes."
"How long have you known?"
"A while," she admits.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's none of your business," she insists.
"I didn't need to know?" He raises his voice.
"Shh! I do have neighbors you know."
"I don't care if I wake your neighbors."
"I do. You need to lower your voice."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried."
"No, you didn't. The only thing you tried to do was hide it from me."
"Now you know. Will you go home now?"
"This conversation is far from over."
"I don't want to do this."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you to know."
"Why?"
"You wouldn't understand."
He swallows hard, "How far along are you?"
She doesn't answer him.
"Mac?"
"Don't do this," she begs.
"Is it mine?"
"I don't know."
"I find that hard to believe."
"It doesn't matter if it is," she responds.
"Why wouldn't it matter?"
"What did you tell me the last time you were here?"
He shrugs, "I don't remember."
"That it was a mistake."