DYLAN—BEFORE
Dylan sat on the toilet in the ABC drugstore bathroom and held her hand to her mouth. She’d been pretty sure the two pink lines would appear, announcing that her life was about to change. But she was still surprised by how intensely the realization that she had a baby growing inside of her took her breath away. By how torn she felt—both deliriously happy that she would share a part of James that his wife didn’t, and scared shitless that he might not be as thrilled about the news as she was.
She knew James wanted children. Once, when they were drunk, she’d worked up the courage to ask him. She played mind games like that sometimes. Extracting the kind of information from him she would if they were in a real relationship and the answers would actually impact her. But when he’d told her that he did want kids, her heart sank sharply. What if his wife got pregnant? Would he stay married to her? He didn’t elaborate, and Dylan had fallen silent, shocked at how much his words had hurt. That had been an opportunity for him to say, Yes! With you! And she feared, for the billionth time, that she’d never be more than the girl he hid behind closed doors.
But at least she knew he wanted to be a father. She just didn’t know if he’d want to be a dad to this baby.
Dylan put her hand on her abdomen and wondered when she’d first feel the little life move inside of her. When she’d first hear the heartbeat. She was embarrassed to admit she didn’t know much about being pregnant—her only friend with kids was Katie, and they’d reconnected after she’d had her babies. But as soon as Dylan got home, she’d buy that book about what to expect and go see her doctor. She’d get all of her questions answered. Although there was one she knew only James could give her—would he be with her at that appointment?
If he weren’t there, Dylan was convinced it would be because of his wife. They had a strange marriage, in Dylan’s opinion. Sometimes when he spoke of Jacqueline, his mouth would twist in a weird way, his voice would take on an edge, and his body would tense. But other times he seemed almost melancholy, hinting at the better times they’d once shared, or recounting a positive anecdote about her. It was almost like he saw his wife as two different people. And Dylan wondered if she was replacing the one James didn’t like, and if somehow she and Jacqueline made up the one woman he wanted. But separately, would Dylan be enough? Would this child swing the pendulum in her favor? Dylan only knew one thing for sure: this baby was going to speak the words she never could and make James decide between her and his wife. That was the only way this relationship could continue. That meant there was no hiding anymore.
She’d first thought she might be pregnant on the morning before they left for Maui. She’d been feeling run-down and squeamish for the past week—her lower back aching at the end of her shift, her belly swirling when she served the huevos rancheros. She’d thought it was the flu and had been panicked—she was counting down the days to her vacation with James, and because Dylan believed in signs, she was terrified that getting sick and missing the trip would be the universe’s way of telling her that they weren’t meant to be. But then, as she was packing for Maui, she’d thrown up, and as she’d knelt by her toilet, she’d noticed a box of tampons on the counter and couldn’t remember the last time she’d had her period. But she’d been irregular before. Plus, she felt nauseated and had a terrible headache and was exhausted—all symptoms of the flu. At that moment, she was more concerned she might miss the trip entirely. She worried about that a lot—the price she’d have to pay for her actions down the road.
And now she wondered if her baby would too.
She’d asked James about karma once. They’d been having breakfast in bed after she’d met him in downtown LA the night before. That was Dylan’s favorite time with James—the mornings. She loved the feel of his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he slept. She always woke before him so she could listen to him breathing, wanting to cherish every moment before he went off to live the part of his life that she didn’t belong in.
James had been telling her a story about getting a flat tire and waiting two hours for help. Then the spare had popped on the way to the mechanic. “It felt like the universe was conspiring against me!” he’d said, a smile creeping across his lips.
“Do you think it was? Because of us?” Dylan asked. She had begun to read significance into each poor tip she received, long line she had to sit in, anything—big or small—that didn’t go her way. She worried she was being punished.
“What? No way!” James had laughed before pausing when he saw the look on her face. “Do you really think that?”
“Sometimes,” Dylan said. But what she was thinking was, All the time. “What we’re doing is wrong. Don’t you think at some point this will catch up with us?” Dylan motioned toward the bedsheets.
James sighed. “Dyl, people make questionable choices all the time, but it doesn’t mean bad things happen to them as a result.”
Dylan had thought about those words a lot after he said them. Was that how he saw her? As a questionable choice? But, like so many times before, she was too timid to push him to elaborate. So scared of saying the wrong thing and causing him to leave her. Wanting to be his refuge, not more of what he had at home.
James had continued. “Look at all the greedy politicians and executives. They do terrible things every day and only get richer and more powerful.” He pulled her in for a kiss, and Dylan tasted his coffee on her lips before he said, “You worry too much.”
“I guess the universe makes exceptions for true love.” Dylan laughed but studied James’s face intently. It had been four months, and he hadn’t told her that he loved her yet. There were days she was sure that he did, like when he sent her soup when she was sick or when she told him that she was cutting costs and had to stop buying her favorite soy milk latte at Starbucks, and he’d loaded one hundred dollars into the account on her phone while she was in the bathroom. Those things meant love, didn’t they?
But James’s eyes betrayed nothing. “Maybe it does,” he’d said, and pushed their breakfast tray aside, pulling her body toward his.
Dylan got up from the toilet and splashed water on her face. She knew she’d been in the bathroom too long, that James would come looking for her if she didn’t hurry up. She struggled to remember when she’d had her last period, finally recalling Easter brunch—how the new hostess had slammed her with too many tables, and Dylan had bitten her head off, then run to the restroom shortly after and realized why she was being such a bitch. That was over two months ago. But she was always careful when she had sex.
Except.