“Jacob, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working? How did you find me?”
She asks all those questions, but she doesn’t look at me. She instead starts walking to the door. I turn her back around to me instead.
“Carrie, are you pregnant?” I’m pretty sure if my heart doesn’t stop beating this hard I will have a stroke.
“Jacob please, there are too many people here to do this right now. Let’s go…”
“I don’t give a fuck who is here. I’m asking you, are you pregnant?”
“Yes.”
Yes.
It floors me. Shit. Carrie’s pregnant. It’s not like it should be a big surprise, I’ve been fucking the hell out of her and not once—not one damn time did I ever think about using a condom. I never went ungloved before Carrie. With her, I didn’t even think about it. I knew I was the first to ever be inside of her and I didn’t want anything between us, she was special. She is special. It was an unconscious decision. It was…fuck, why didn’t I think about it? Me a dad? What could I ever offer a kid? How could I take care of a kid? What kind of kid would want me as a role model? Most days, I can’t even look in the damn mirror. How will a kid ever want to look at me? What happens when he or she learns about their old man and what happened to him?
“Fuck.”
The word comes out without me meaning it to. I seem to have a problem with that lately, but holy hell my world was just shook on its axis.
Carrie hears me and she flinches as if the word slaps her. I know it does, and I want to bite it back. Instead, I make it worse.
“I’m not ready for this Carrie, I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”
“I’ve taken so much crap off of you,” her quiet voice echoes in the room.
I know there are other people around, but for me all that exists is Carrie. There’s so much pain in her sentence. I hear it and look at my woman, really look at her. She is standing in a yellow sundress with small daisies all over it. Her long auburn hair has been braided in some kind of complicated style and swirled on her head and it makes a man long to undo it. She’s gorgeous, even now with the faint glimpse of tears in her eyes. Yet, she looks miserable. I’ve done that.
“I’ve taken so much crap. I begged you to love me, to be with me and I shouldn’t have. If you couldn’t see that I was worth it, that I was….”
“Princess…”
“I’ve kept my mouth shut and I’ve let you blame and unload on me, because I felt responsible for it all. So I just kept going along, saying it was okay. It’s okay because I love Jacob and he has to work through so much, but I love him and he cares for me and I want to be with him and this is what couples do. They work through issues and problems and they come out on the other side stronger.”
“Princess…” I try again, but she doesn’t let me.
“I might be young and na?ve like everyone keeps throwing at me, but I loved you Jacob. I loved you and I just knew if I held on and gave you all I could, it would be okay. That’s what couples do. They comfort each other. They are there for each other and they hold the fuck on TOGETHER!”
Carrie doesn’t curse. She goes out of her way to not curse. She doesn’t even yell. Except for the day at the marina, she’s hardly ever spoken back to any one in her life. Yet, here she is doing both, doing both in a crowded clinic with people we know, however distantly, staring at us. This is when I know I am in complete trouble. I have kept my head in my ass for too long. I’ve been so wrapped up in my misery, wrapped up in what was all about me, what was good for me, what I wanted and needed, that I left Carrie swinging out there on her own. I see it clearly and I am in trouble, but at the same time I keep hearing the same word and panic swaps me.
Baby. I’m going to be a dad. How the fuck can I take care of a baby when I need Carrie to even make it through a day? What happens if I have a panic attack when I’m alone with him? What happens if I crack and even Carrie can’t help me? A baby! How can I do this?
“They do Carrie, baby they absolutely do hold on and…”
“Except you didn’t, Jacob. I did. It was always me, but really, you never held on with me. You never held on for me.”
“I did Carrie, I’m here,” I say, but I am lying.
“No, you didn’t, Jacob. You held on for you.”
“Carrie, sweetheart…”