"I've got a long time to sit here and hear it," Isaac replied. When I stayed silent, he cocked his head to the side. "That bad?"
"You don't even know the half of it," I commented, laughing lightly but meaning what I said.
"Come sit, talk." He patted the space next to him on his bed, and I obliged, dragging Philip with me.
"Do you remember Amsterdam?" I blurted out.
"Not personally, but Augustus wouldn't stop talking about it afterwards. He loved going there with you, you know?"
"I know."
A few moments passed. I think Isaac knew I was building up to something, so he didn't try and sway the conversation off on a different tangent, which I was grateful for.
"Amsterdam was so good. Except the Christmas tree part," I commented idly, but my insides had started churning. Isaac just nodded.
"That did suck," he agreed.
"Like, how selfish can you get? Getting cancer again just before impregnating your girlfriend? And not telling her? I mean, I get he didn't know I'd get pregnant, but still!" I was laughing at my suddenly angry jokes, trying to make light of the situation because it was just so inexplicable.
"That part I don't remember him telling me about," Isaac said.
"You wouldn't," I said, laughing. "Funny thing is, he didn't tell me either."
I was laughing, but it wasn't a happy laugh – it was a maniacal laugh, one that spurred tears from my eyes. For once, I was glad Isaac couldn't see me.
"Hazel, are you all right?" Isaac took my hand.
"No. No, I'm not fucking all right." I was shaking, but I couldn't help it – something inside me had snapped, something else had clicked, and I'd just realised how much this meant. I used my free hand to wipe the tears that were rolling down my face.
"Hazel, what is it?"
"I'm pregnant, Isaac. I'm pregnant with Augustus' child and I can't do anything about it. I just want to curl up in a ball and cry."
Isaac didn't say a word, so I continued.
"I've never wanted to be a mom. I never thought I'd live long enough to become a mom, but that just goes to show how much I know, doesn't it?" A cackle escaped my mouth, and I could feel myself slipping into a breakdown but I couldn't find the brakes. This was going to be one big car crash.
"Hazel, are you kidding me?"
"Believe me, I wish I was," I said, smiling. "But no, this crappy life just had to get a little bit more problematic and the one person I need to tell isn't even here."
"You're pregnant?" Isaac stuttered.
"Yes, keep up, dimwit," I said, uttering words I didn't mean. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get annoyed with you – Heaven knows it's not your fault – and I definitely didn't mean to cry again, but it's just so overwhelming."
"Hazel. Breathe. Please."
In and out. It wasn't that hard to begin with, but the panic made me feel so constricted and my breaths just kept getting quicker and shorter, quicker and shorter.
"Hazel!" Isaac sounded worried now, but I was in too much trouble trying to breathe to reply to him.
In and out.
Inandout.
Inandoutandinandoutandinandout.
Hyperventilating.
"Hazel."
"Hazel, breathe with me."
"In. That's it. And out. Good."
It took too long to get my breathing under control, and as I sat on Isaac's bed with my head between my knees, I realised how stupid I looked. Puffy cheeks as usual, combined with flushed skin from an even larger lack of oxygen than usual, and a tear-stained face.
"Isaac, I'm so sorry," I said, looking up at him.
"You keep your head down, I'll talk," he replied, sensing my movement. I did as I was told.
"You're shocked. I get that. I know I'll never have to squeeze a baby out but I promise you, I understand how you're feeling."
"It's not just-" I started, but I was cut off.
"Mouth. Closed. You concentrate on your breathing. Look, I understand your shock and I'm here to support you, okay? Whatever you choose to do, I'll be here."
I squeezed his hand as a way of saying thank you.
"I think the best thing for you to do is to get some rest, Hazel. Think things over."
"I already have. I'm keeping the baby."
I couldn't see Isaac, but the slight tightening of his grip on my hand told me he was shocked. That was the only response I got to that statement, which I was glad about. I didn't need another confrontation or another hyperventilation session.
"Do you want me to call your mom and get her to pick you up?" he said, changing the subject. He knew that I couldn't speak to her in my current state.
I nodded, resting my head on his knee as yet another tear escaped my eye.