I drop my eyes to my hands, going over in my head everything that has happened. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her but for some reason I don’t. I don’t know if it’s to protect him or me, but I keep his identity to myself for now, “One night stand.” Not a lie exactly.
“You don’t know!?” She practically screeches.
“Please don’t get mad, Immy.” My voice wobbles, “I don’t need mad, I need you. I need my sister. I’m scared, Imogen, I’m not ready to be a mom.”
Imogen sighs and perches on the edge of the couch, “You have options,” She says gently.
“I know.” I agree.
I’d always wanted kids; I just hadn’t expected it now. I expected marriage and stability, a good job, a great home… a man who hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth.
“But those options aren’t for me,” I tell her. “I’m not ready to be a mom but I damn well will be one. I’m just going to cry about it for a while.”
She chuckles lightly, “There’s time, Ness, you don’t have to make a decision right now.”
Truth be told I’d gone through my options days ago, I knew what I could do, and I’d made the decision not to do them. Was it terrifying? Absolutely. But Icoulddo this.
Despite not being ready, despite it putting a little bump in my plans – no pun intended.
Imogen cups my cheek, just like our mom used to do, “I feel sick.” I tell her.
She cringes, “How far along?”
“My last period was six weeks ago.”
“Well, I guess we need to get to the clinic, get them to confirm and make a plan.”
“Are you mad?”
With a sigh she shakes her head, “I’m not mad, Ness. I’m scared for you, babies are…”
“Hard?” I finish, “A commitment you can’t just leave? Babies are a lot of things.”
“What about the dad?” She presses, “Are you going to try and find him?”
I nod even though I know the search will be fruitless. Kolt seems like the type of man that if he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.
I’ll likely never see him again.
“And college?”
“I’ll continue,” I say, “I’m coming up with a plan to be able to finish my studies and take care of a baby.”
“Here?” She chews her lip, “All on your own?”
“I can do it.”
“Ness,” She’s up again, pacing this time, “You need support. If you’re going to have this baby, you need your family, maybe you should come home.”
“I’m going to be a doctor, Immy. I can’t just come home.”
“But you’re pregnant!”
For the next three hours we go over the same argument. Back and forth until I become so mentally exhausted by it, I pass out on the couch. Imogen doesn’t leave, not like I wanted or expected her to, instead she curls on the sofa with me and we both stay there till morning, only to resume the same argument.
I understand her worry, but I have to try and do it all. There must be a way of studying and being a mom, I know a lot of mothers do it. But I am alone here, and the island is my safe place.
Imogen goes home after three days and on the fourth, I head to the clinic for my appointment.
