I don’t say a word as I take two huge steps to get to her bed, dropping the bags at the foot. I want to scoop her into my arms and hold her, but before I can, she’s sat herself up, trying to wipe away the tears as if she did it quick enough, I wouldn’t see them.
Joke’s on her. I notice every single thing she does.
“I'm sorry I took so long. I?—”
“It’s okay,” she cuts me off. “Did you get one?”
“Something like that.”
I reach over to the end of the bed where I dropped the bags, now suddenly curious if the five I ended up buying were too few or too many, but I’m trusting Asher on this one. Part of me wants to tell her about how I almost got her an ovulation kit, figuring maybe a story about me being a dumbass would help ease the tension. Though judging by the worried look on her face, I’m not sure a joke is appropriate right now.
She’s silent as she pulls a few out of the bag, reading them quickly before deciding to take the one where the words pop up. “I guess I should go do it.”
I give her hand a squeeze as Asher’s words from the pharmacy roll through my mind.
Be there for her.
Hold her hand.
Be whatever she needs from you.
“Do you need anything? What can I do? Do you need any help?”
Gabi turns to me, her eyes squinting and her eyebrows are raised. It’s a “what the fuck” look if I’ve ever seen one.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You asked me if I needed help.”
“Yeah. I want to…” I trail off, realizing that my wording probably wasn’t the best for what she’s about to do. “Oh…”
Gabi walks in front of me. “Maddox. I appreciate you wanting to help, but I have the peeing thing under control.”
I feel my face flush, hating that I’m fumbling this already. “I’m sorry. I wanted to offer…”
“I know,” she says as she places her free hand on my cheek. “I know you’re trying to help, and you are, believe me. I’m just…I’m nervous and I’m scared. And when I’m done doing this, I’m going to need you exactly right here because I’m going to fall into your lap and likely break down. But what I don’t need is for you to watch me pee. In fact, let’s make it a rule that never in our lives are we going to see the other do that.”
Now she’s the one with the jokes. “Deal. And I’ll be right here when you come back.”
“Thank you,” she says, replacing her hand with her lips for a soft kiss. “Here goes nothing, right?”
I smile at her attempt at a joke. “Something like that.”
I don’t know how long I sit on her bed, and it’s only a few minutes, but it feels like time has stopped. I haven’t moved. Not a muscle. I think I breathe. I may blink a few times. I know for a fact I stare at the carpet so long I think I can count the fibers.
What the hell is about to happen? I know in my heart of heart’s she’s pregnant. And I want to be excited. I’m going to be excited. I’m already picturing a little girl with Gabi’s green eyes, or a little boy who is going to drive his teachers crazy with his devilish smile like I did. The thought brings a blast of warmth to my heart. But as quick as it hits me, the thought I’ve been trying to keep out all night barrels right through:
Am I my father?
I know I’ve said to Gabi, my therapist, and the select few friends I confide in that his leaving did shape me into the man I am today. Whenever I have a dilemma in life, I ask “what would Dad do,” and I do the opposite. It’s served me well so far.
But will that change when I become a father? I want to say it won’t, but I can’t see the future. Yes, our circumstances are completely different—he and my mom were married, had two children, and the stress of him bouncing from job to job on top of having a family was too much for him to handle—but being a father is a pretty universal thing, right? Is it going to be too much for me? Am I going to be able to handle it? I know Gabihasn’t brought it up yet, but I know she’s going to come in at some point and wonder if a twenty-four-year-old guy is ready to be a father? And honestly, I’m asking the same question. I don’t know if I’m ready.
I just know I have to be. I will be. There’s no other choice.
I know in my brain time has stopped, but I also know it hasn’t, and Gabi has been gone for a lot longer than I expected her to be. I know she told me to wait for her, but I’ll ask for forgiveness as I get up and walk across the hall to the bathroom.
Surprisingly, the door is open, which is how I see Gabi sitting on the edge of her bathtub.
