“Do you need to go outside?” Jacob asks.
Scooter lets out another pitiful sob, and I lay a hand over my heart. “Oh no. He probably misses his mother. It’s his first night away.”
“Yeah.” Jacob tosses the covers aside and pulls on his pajama bottoms. “I’ll take him outside to distract him. Maybe he’ll pee.”
Jacob leads Scooter out of the bedroom, and I flop back onto the pillows and close my eyes. I try to go back to sleep, but I can’t because I realize I, too, need to pee.
It’s not easy to get out from under the warm covers, but I rise and make my way to the bathroom to take care of business. But as soon as I sit down on the toilet, I feel a familiar sensation that makes me gasp. I shift a little to peer into the toilet bowl, and I see red.
My thoughts become Ping-Pong balls. First, I’m relieved. Overwhelmingly so. But as I reach for the toilet paper, all I want to do is cry. There’s no baby growing inside me, and Jacob and I won’t get engaged anytime soon. Both realities make me wonder if I’ve ever known such disappointment in my life.
God, why did I let myself dream about holding our baby in my arms for the first time and sharing that moment with Jacob, making plans for the not-too-distant future? Wedding plans ... financial plans ... what color to paint the nursery ...
After I flush the toilet, I stand at the sink and wash my hands.This is a good thing,I tell myself. I’m only nineteen. This isn’t the time for marriage and a baby. Before I start that chapter of my life, I want to know how to run a business and learn the creative side of interior design. And it goes without saying that I’d prefer not to tell my parents that I have to quit school because I got pregnant.
I hear the front door of the apartment open, so I return to bed, where I listen to Jacob remove his jacket and talk to Scooter in hushed tones.
When they return, I sit up. “Did he pee?”
“He did,” Jacob replies, “and I gave him a treat.”
Scooter follows Jacob to the bed and barks when he gets in.
“No,” Jacob firmly says. “This isn’t your bed. You sleep over there.” He points at the cushion, then gets up and leads Scooter toward it. “Good boy.” He rubs Scooter’s head, scratches behind his ears, and then joins me back under the covers.
I snuggle close. “Your hands are freezing.”
“It was foggy out there. Cold and wet.” He pulls me close. “I was wishing I had my long johns on.”
“Ooh, sexy ... a lumberjack vibe.”
He laughs, and we snuggle close, but a pitiful wail causes both of us to sit up again.
Scooter peers at us with woeful puppy dog eyes, which rips my heart out. I clutch Jacob’s forearm. “Maybe we could bring him up here with us. Just for tonight.”
“There’s no such thing as ‘just for tonight.’ If he sleeps on the bed, he’ll expect to sleep with us forever.”
I consider it for a moment. “Would that be so bad?”
Jacob looks down at Scooter, who’s pulling out all the stops, his eyes full of hopeful desperation while he milks every ounce of sympathy he can muster.
Jacob starts to chuckle and hangs his head in defeat. “I guess this is it.”
He gets up and lifts Scooter onto the bed, where he becomes a snuggly teddy bear between us. Later, Scooter burrows under the covers and earns his keep as the best foot warmer money can buy.
I wake to the sound of the telephone ringing in the kitchen. Sitting up in a panic, worried that I’ve overslept and missed my 8:30 class, I glance at the alarm clock. It’s only 7:15, so I flop back down. Only then do I notice that I’m alone in bed.
The door opens, and Jacob walks in with the cordless telephone. “Yeah, just one sec. It’s Becky.”
He hands the phone to me, and I remember that I’d forgotten to call her the night before. “Hello?”
“Hey,” she says with a note of concern. “What happened last night? You didn’t call. Is everything okay?”
Jacob leaves the room, and I sit up on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry. I fell asleep.”
“Did you take the test?”
“I did,” I reply, “and it was negative.”
