Page 30 of Size Game
“Hey, I know you didn’t want kids, but I’m knocked up now.”
That’s not quite what one-night stands want to hear. In fact, most would become really defensive and start blaming you for being a slut. Clearly, it couldn’t be theirs.
I start to think about all of our various encounters, and my heart sinks. I sit back in my chair and slap my palms against my forehead. Hailey warned me to take condoms with me, and I did have them stashed in my purse, but it didn’t actually occur to me until now that we never used them.
I mentally punish myself and imagine myself sitting in the corner like when I was a little girl and stole the last cookie out of the jar.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” I chant at myself.
My phone rings, and I ignore it. I certainly can’t face him now. This is entirely my fault, and I know he won’t want anything to do with me now. Maybe one of the women on the message boards will have some advice.
I want a coffee. Can I even have a coffee?
I get up and leave the office with my purse on my shoulder. I hail a taxi and take it to a coffee shop within walking distance from my apartment. I stand in line for the seemingly mandatory ten to fifteen minutes before getting to order. Then I wait at least twenty minutes for my fancy sugar-loaded, chocolate-strewn, iced coffee drink. I decide to take my time and sit at one of the nearby tables, sipping my drink slowly through a straw.
I watch the people come and go. A mother comes in with a toddler on her hip and a grade-schooler behind her. She goes up to the counter and hands the child a cookie, orders a tea for herself, and a cup of milk for the toddler. I smile as I watch them. Her juggling skills impress me as she manages to keep an eye on the wandering grade-schooler while also ensuring the toddler isn’t fussing.
A few customers later, a young couple walks in with their arms linked. The woman has her head on the man’s shoulder, and they’re both smiling happily. The man kisses her forehead softly before asking her what she wants. They order and seem in such bliss together.
I think about how Alex has treated me up until this point. He has been a true gentleman, even in the bedroom. I think about the couple and imagine what it would be like if it were us. I know that Alex would buy our coffees, and I could hold his arm and put my head on his chest. We could be happy, smiling, together.
Eventually, I walk home alone. Once I get home I plop down on the couch, not even bothering to kick off my shoes or take off my jacket. My phone rings again, and I ignore it. I know it’s him. I’m not ready. I know what I want. Or at least I think I do. I want to be happy. I want him to be happy. Do I want to be happy with him?
I flip on the TV and find a romantic comedy to watch. It doesn’t necessarily help the situation, but it at least allows me to yell at the made-up character Roger and his dastardly deeds. Otherwise, I’d just be sitting here thinking about Alex and multiplying cells in my uterus.
After the first ten minutes, I kick off my shoes, change into some sweatpants, and plop back onto the couch with a large bowl of ice cream and a comfy blanket. I watch the movie until it gets dark, then find another to watch.
My phone buzzes. It buzzes again, and again. I stretch my foot out onto the table next to it and slide my foot quickly across it, knocking the phone clear across the room. I shrug and continue watching my movie.
About halfway through, there’s a knock at my door. I look at it, then back at my TV screen. I’m not home, and no one can change that.
There’s another knock. I turn up the volume just a little. I’m still not home.
“Claire? I know you’re home.”
I look up at the door in shock. I consider not opening it for a moment, and then he knocks again.
I get up off the couch and wrap myself up in the blanket, then open the door to find Alex there. He’s in a nice button-up shirt, a pair of slacks, and a long wool trench coat. He looks good while I look like a mess.
“May I come in?”
I stand there pondering the idea that he’s really a vampire and if I don’t invite him in, then he can’t come in. And if he can’t come in, then we don’t have to have a conversation. I wonder if I can really pull that off, but I figure it’s a long shot.
“Sure.”
He enters and I shut the door behind him. I grab the remote and turn off the sappy movie. Then I move to the couch, and he sits down next to me.
“I know you’ve been ignoring my calls and my texts. What’s going on, Claire?”
He looks deeply into my eyes, and I can see the sorrow building inside. “I’ve just not been feeling well. That’s all.”
He reaches forward and gently holds my hand in his. “I know that’s not it.”
I sniffle and pull my blanket closer around myself.
“Did I do something wrong?”
I bite my lip. I know that I should tell him, I really should. He deserves to know. It would be mean to hide something like this from him. But I don’t know how to tell him. “Not really…”