I woke up this morning with a thought- what if it was time? I mean, I don't know if there is anything left to do, right?
Here we go, getting out of bed, walking down the stairs, barefoot and still groggy, and suddenly something sharp pricks my foot. I yelp, stepping back up, immediately awake, and look down- it's Denny's little toy plane, the wing broken.
"Dammit, Denny.", I mutter, and lean down to pick it up, and as I do, a wave of nausea hits me. My hand clings to the railing to keep myself from falling, and I gasp for breath, feeling the bile rise in my throat. I turn, and I stagger back up the stairs to the bathroom, where I immediately kneel down in front of the toilet and puke up last night's quinoa.
"... ah, shit.", I groan, as the worst of the nausea pauses, and I look down at my belly. Still flat.
Maybe not for much longer though. I guess it is time after all. How am I going to tell Denny? Hey, I broke one of your stupid planes, and by the way, I think I'm pregnant.
Questions flood my mind- what do I do now? how do I even keep going? I had thought about this, a little bit, about someday having kids. I remember my dad, before he set off on another crab-trawling trip, looking at me with that amused, tolerant smile, and saying, "Oh Quincy, someday you'll know what it's like to be a parent."
Yeah, but I didn't expect that to happen in my mid-20's. I had a plan, a career, and it was one I wasn't planning to quit on, not for Denny, not for myself, not for anyone.
But now, if I really am pregnant, what does that mean? Quietly, I stand back up, clean myself up, and make my way back downstairs to the kitchen, my mind swirling with thoughts and concerns.
My motions are robotic, automated- I don't even remember brewing my morning coffee or pouring it into my mug, but there it is, sitting in front of me, quietly steaming, not caring that my whole world just got upended, that I'm about to pour the hot brew down my throat, and what if it scalds a little? My life just got blown up.
Gods, I remember checking my horoscope last night- you know, the one with Walter Mercado, and thinking how silly it was that everything was going to change, that this was the week, according to the planets, when a new life started.
I didn't realize it wasn't talking about my life.
Oh Denny, what am I going to do?
OK, first things first- I have to go to the pharmacy, and get a pregnancy test. It's the middle of January, bitterly cold- winter is just starting, and I can't let myself be cooped up in here all the time. At least it hasn't started snowing yet, so I can make it in to the pharmacy and get the test.
I remember my dad one more time. The last time I saw him, before the sea took him from me.
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