Jenna looked down at her plate, pushing the food around with her fork. “Good! Good. Totally fine. No complaints.”
Ellie and I shared a brief look. Jenna didn’t seem to like talking about her pregnancy anymore. Earlier, I had asked how things were going with the baby’s father, but she said she hadn’t heard from him recently and quickly changed the subject.
“Enough baby talk, though,” Jenna said. “What did you guys think of the movie?”
She was obviously avoiding something. I decided to let it slide for the moment, but made a mental note to try to talk to her more seriously later.
That night, I curled up under a blanket on my couch and tuned in to someFriendsreruns on TV. The background chatter was nice as I scrolled through social media on my phone.
Suddenly, I stopped scrolling.
It was a picture of Max and Madison, standing in a picturesque garden, sharing a happy kiss. Though I wasn’t friends with Madison—I had ignored her repeated attempts to connect online—I was friends with Max, who was tagged in the photo.
The caption read,SURPRISE! We’re going to be parents!
The jolt to my system left me lightheaded. Was Madison pregnant too?
Then I noticed the post was a series of photos, each with its own caption. I swiped to the next picture.
Baby Hunter is due November 8th! Although we’re expecting by nontraditional means, we are incredibly excited and can’t wait to welcome our little bundle of joy into the world.
I shot up off the couch, my blanket falling to the floor. “What?”
Madison wasn’t pregnant—she was referring to my baby.
“Ourlittle bundle of joy?” I screamed to my empty apartment.
I started pacing. In my anger I was seeing spots before my eyes. How dare Madison announce this to the world in this way, implying that this was their baby, and she its mother?
Nontraditional means? She’s making it sound like I’m their surrogate!I felt a tiny kick in my belly, as though the baby was just as upset as I was.
I dialed Max’s number; this couldn’t wait any longer. Between the bachelorette night, the anonymous texts, and this social media post, it was high time we had a serious talk about Madison. My chest heaved as I breathed hard, trying to fight off tears. His voicemail picked up. “Max—please call me as soon as you get this. We need to talk.”
I paced around my living room for what felt like hours, waiting for him to call me back, but the phone never rang. My apartment was hot—the nearly hundred-year-old building I lived in did not have air conditioning, so I was reduced to an open window and strategically placed fans to try and combat the June heat wave we were having. I had to get out of here. Maybe a long walk would calm me down and tire me out, so I’d be able to get at least a little sleep that night.
Despite how tired I’d been just a little while ago, my new furious energy seemed boundless. I made the three-block looparound my apartment building in just minutes, but I wasn’t ready to go back inside yet. I started a second loop. Two turned into three. After loop number four I decided I should probably go back inside. Maybe some hot tea would help calm me down.God, how I miss alcohol.
As I turned the corner onto my street, I saw a dark figure dressed all in black with the hood of their sweatshirt up, standing on my building’s front steps. Their back was to me as they looked down at their phone. As I got closer, the figure heard me approaching from behind and turned around for a split second. The stranger’s eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, but it appeared to be a youngish woman. She shoved her hands in her pockets, then abruptly walked off down the street.
I stared after her uneasily.Who was that?I didn’t get a great look at her face, thanks to the dark glasses and all the shadows, but I was fairly sure it wasn’t Madison, and I knew all my neighbors—it didn’t look like anyone who lived in my building. In fact, it looked like the woman I’d seen standing across the street the night I went maternity clothes shopping with Ellie.
I hurried up the stairs and back into my building, suddenly eager to be locked in for the night. My phone started chiming as soon as I made it inside.
Oh God.It was the anonymous number again, and this time, there was a picture.
Max stood behind Madison with his arms around her, smiling at the camera, while Madison smiled up at him. As I gazed at the image, another text popped in:Mommy and Daddy and Baby make three. The perfect family.
I threw my phone on the couch in frustration. Tea—I needed tea. Something to help get my heart rate down again.You don’t want to stress the baby.
My phone chimed again.Ignore it, I told myself. But what if it was Mom? Or Ellie? Or Max, finally getting back to me?
Nope. It was another photo—this one of me, moments earlier, walking my neighborhood with my hands in my pockets, looking down at the ground. Another message followed:Poor Savannah. You’re all alone.
Tears pricked my eyes. I cursed in frustration. How was I supposed to deal with this harassment? Obviously, I’d been followed on my walk. By whom? The woman in black I’d seen outside the building?
Should I report this to the police? But what was the crime exactly?
Then Anonymous decided to send me to bed with one last text for the night.
