“Can we go somewhere to talk?” she asks, craning her head to look down the street. “There, maybe?” She points at a bakery on the corner.
“Sure.” If it weren't for this weather, I'd walk her around the corner from the school and ask her to say whatever it is she's come to say.
We walk beside each other in complete silence. Allison was a nice person, and we had a good time together. From the beginning she knew we didn't have a future. So why is she here now? Did she see me out with Natalie? Does she think it means I changed my mind on relationships?
We settle at a table inside the bakery, and I order two coffees. I sip from mine, but Allison doesn't touch hers. She starts to take off her coat, then changes her mind and keeps it on.
“What do you want to talk about, Allison?” If she won't start the conversation, I will.
She stares at me, her eyes growing shiny. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”
Maybe I should have wrapped it up in a more official way. I thought being casual meant I didn't have any ties, but clearly Allison needed more than my short phone call.
“I’m sorry, Allison. I should've answered your call.”
“Thank you,” she says, accepting my apology. “Did you mean what you said? That we are finished?”
My jaw clenches. This is painful. And a little frustrating. From the beginning, I made it clear to Allison that I was not looking for a relationship.
“Yes.” Does she need to be reminded that her last words to me included telling me to fuck off?
Allison nods. “I see.”
I pull my jacket off my lap and start to stand. “Well, if that's all, I better get going.”
Allison’s hand shoots out across the table. “I’m pregnant.”
What.
The.
Fuck.
I drop back down in my seat. Everything inside me feels heavy and hollow at the same time. How can this even be? We used condoms. And I was careful. So careful.
Natalie.
Oh my god. How am I going to tell her? My hands drag through my hair, and I have to control the urge to pull tightly. I want to punish myself for this colossal mistake. This cannot be. This justcannotbe.
Across the table, Allison watches me absorb the news. “I’m eight weeks along,” she says, and this one sentence makes everything even more real. I don't say anything, because I don't trust myself just yet. When I open my mouth, I want to say the right thing, only I don't know what the right thing is.
Allison keeps talking. “It was our last time together. I know what you're thinking, and no, I didn't trap you. This was a surprise to me too.”
“That's not what I was thinking.” There. My silence is finally broken.
“I'm going to keep it.” Allison lifts the cup of coffee to her lips, then sets it back down. “No caffeine,” she says quietly as if she's reminding herself.
“Okay.”
“You can be as involved as you want."
“Okay.”
“First doctor's appointment is in two days. Do you want to come to it?”
“Okay.”
Allison blows out a hard breath. “Do you have anything else to say besidesokay?”
