March 1977 – NYC
Angela leaned back in her chair at work, repeatedly clicking a pen. A magazine layout was on the desk in front of her, but all of her attention was on her daily flip calendar. I'm due tomorrow.
She'd been so relieved the first month when she'd gotten her period. She was usually early, but January's came on time, and that's all she could ask for.
Mostly, they'd tried to be careful. But she hadn't planned for that first time with Michael, and her logic had gotten lost in the moment. The rest of the weekend? Well…that was poor judgement. But they'd finally had a solid talk, and she'd remembered that her period wasn't the only factor over which to be grateful. She really had been reckless that weekend. With Brian, she'd been as prepared as she could've been, under the circumstances. But with Michael, she felt eternally drawn to giving in. Why the difference?
Angela thought about it for a minute. Brian was romantic, but fairly passive. Michael takes the lead… If ever there were something about which I'd want a guy to take the lead… But there were drawbacks.
It was still surprisingly difficult to be responsible. She didn't understand the backlash, even if it was just a bit of whining. It's not like she preferred it, either, but she was definitely the one holding the line. At least he's been good about capitulating. He always acknowledged her prudence afterward, but damn it, if he didn't forget just as fast.
Enter: Mexican tequila. Now, here she was, eating a pen.
The next day, Angela went to the bathroom at least four more times than she actually needed to.
She had to keep checking.
1 day late. Angela spent the day trying to slow her breathing. She continued to make extra trips to the bathroom. Coming out of the stall, defeated, she washed her hands slowly. Then she'd wet paper towels, and wipe the sweat off her chest and the back of her neck.
2 days late. Angela left her office exactly at close of business. Her heels trilled across the hard floor on her way to the elevator. Turning her slim self sideways, she slid into the already full car at the last second. She ignored the irritated side eyes of her squished co-workers, and focused on her ashen reflection in the metal doors.
Angela got in line to buy a pregnancy test at the counter of the nearest pharmacy. A soft-spoken Asian man, who looked probably in his sixties, was ringing people up. When she got to the front of the line and slid the test across the counter, the older man smiled. Looking up at Angela, he said, "Congratulations," in a kind, but not particularly quiet, voice. Somehow, Angela managed to return a smiling nod, and paid for the test. She hustled out, not looking at anyone, and rushed to the nearest department store.
Angela flung open the door to the last stall, and ducked in fast. She locked the door, and tore apart the package. I have to know NOW. Reading it furiously, she followed the directions. As she waited, the test itself resting on top of the toilet paper dispenser, she just kept focusing on her breathing. In, through the nose. Out, through the mouth. She might as well have been sprinting, for all her heart was going through.
It was cold in there. Elevator music played lightly in the background, and there were, curiously, dents in the metal, stall door. Pebbles and tiny puddles of water scattered the floor. Angela kept breathing. She could hear a woman and her child wash their hands, and engage the obnoxiously-loud, hand dryer. Angela could feel tears pressuring around her eyes. Even if she weren't pregnant, this isn't how she'd want to find out. I really miss Michael. She hugged herself, and leaned slightly backward, pretending he was there. She remembered how he'd sat behind her and held her at the river, the afternoon sun warming her face, and his head snuggled up next to hers, just because he wanted to. She squeezed her eyes shut, and two tears fell. Opening them up in the cold, gray stall, she looked over at the test.
Pregnant.
Angela sat on her bed, staring at the phone. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there. She was afraid. She was almost 26 years old, and was partly embarrassed by her timidity. But she didn't know how Michael would react, and she really wasn't anticipating him being kind and supportive. And, quite frankly, she felt pretty fragile, regardless of whether she had a right to be.
Her mother wasn't home, thank God, and Carwen was getting groceries. But Angela still got up, and locked the door. She walked around her room in circles, sliding the outer side of her thumbnail against the edge of a lower, front tooth. She remembered walking this same track the morning after Ben died. Suddenly, Angela felt even lonelier. She walked over to her jewelry boxes, and pulled out the pearls. She smiled, remembering how gentle Ben always was with her, even when she was being a pill. She put the pearls up to her cheek, and held them there with her eyes shut, just appreciating him. What an awful day. I was a train wreck. She smiled. Then Michael took care of me. She felt her breathing slow. He cared...He cares. Angela returned the pearls to their box, and walked to the phone. Sitting on her bed, Angela called Michael's camp. After waiting for the guy who answered it to go get Michael, Angela worried about the scratchiness of the line. This was hard enough without reception problems.
"Angela?" she heard with a blip in the middle.
"Michael? Hey," she tried to smile. She hesitated, and her open mouth soon turned into a silent sob. She sat up, breathed deeply, and tried again. "I-"
"Angela? Are you there?"
She sniffed up the fast-falling mucus, and took a scoot back on the bed. She tried a third time, "Michael. I need to talk to you."
"What is it? We've gotta get the camera on these little f-" The phone blipped. "-told you. It's mating season, and they're going ape!"
Her head hurt, and her breathing quickened. There was so much pressure in her head, and she could feel beads of sweat on her chest and back.
"Angela! I've got-"
With a fast shake of her head, she blurted, "Michael! I'm pregnant."
Nothing.
All Angela heard for many seconds was the static from the phone.
Finally, she heard something loud, and then a distant, "Fuck!"
Angela's racing heart had all but stopped after she'd made her confession. But it was quickly regaining speed. She heard her heart thump, and felt herself shrink – though, whether back, or in size, she couldn't tell. She just felt herself get far away.
By the time Michael picked up the receiver again, Angela was out of reach.
