Fifteen Weeks Pregnant. Baby is the size of an apple.
“M
oving day!” Sarah shouts excitedly the second I open my door.
Caleb stands behind her, alongside two men I don’t know, both tall and muscular, with shoulders that barely fit through the doorway. They smile and nod politely as they enter my home.
“Who are they?” I ask quietly as Sarah pushes past me. She drops a shallow produce box in front of my window and turns toward me. She’s wearing bike shorts and a cute, oversized sweater with the word Velaris written across it. I think that’s from a favourite book of hers, but if I ask, we’ll never get out of here on time.
“Michael and Levi,” she says, her voice uneven. Caleb sets into motion behind us, directing the two men toward my purple dresser. They pick it up effortlessly and exit before I can even admire their… capabilities.
“Did you hire movers?” I ask her, clearly annoyed. I explicitly told her not to.
“No!” She has the audacity to sound offended. “They’re friends of ours.”
This is exactly why Sarah enjoys playing strip poker so much—she’s a terrible liar. Hence why I had to pull her naked, drunk ass away from so many parties as a teenager while Caleb was at home studying.
I level her with a scowl. “I told you not to hire movers, Sar. If I could afford it—”
“Let me stop you right there, preggo. You can’t be making trips up and down six flights of stairs all day. Plus, Caleb and I are not exactly in fighting shape, so what were we supposed to do here? Suffer? I’ve spent a few hundred bucks on way less necessary shit.”
“I’m perfectly capable of going up and down stairs,” I argue.
She rolls her eyes, beginning to untangle the leaves of my pothos plant. “Puked yet today?” she asks, her ponytail swinging violently as she turns to me with a do we want to go there? blank stare.
I open my mouth to argue but stop myself with a deep breath. Honestly, I have been really dreading today and the multiple trips up and down the stairs. Packing up over the last few weeks has been tiresome enough. So has going through all my things, making donation runs, and getting supplies. Sarah has been here most days, and I really shouldn’t be so ungrateful. She’s already done so much to help me get out of here before the end of the month. It’s just, I wish I could have hired the movers myself and left Sarah and Caleb out of it. I hate feeling like a burden.
“Fine, just, don’t let them touch my plants.”
“That’s like half of the shit you own,” Caleb says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Happy moving day.” He pats my arm. “Can’t say I’m not happy to never have to see this place again.”
“Snobs,” I tease, reaching out a hand for Sarah. She steps closer, until the three of us are wrapped around one another like the tangled plants on the
windowsill. “Thank you, guys,” I mumble into Sarah’s shoulder. “I love you both, and I really do appreciate your help. I’m sorry I’m crap at accepting it.”
“We love you too,” they answer in unison.
“Now teach us how to carry your plants safely so you don’t end up murdering our nice new mover friends,” Sarah adds.
The rest of the morning goes smoothly. Michael and Levi take my small selection of furniture down piece by piece—with help from Caleb on the monster that was my pull-out couch. She now lives on the curb until a new home is found, since Bo’s spare room comes equipped with a queen-sized bed.
Sarah, Caleb, and I do two trips with my plants while the rest of my boxes are taken down. Everything I own is packed up in just over two hours. Caleb pays the guys and waits with the truck as Sarah and I make our way upstairs for one final look-through.
“Fuck these stairs,” Sarah says, opening the top of her water bottle on the landing to the fourth floor. “Fuck these stairs so much,” she says breathlessly, bending at the waist.
“Last time,” I say, standing straighter to pull a candy out of my fanny pack. It’s stocked with saltine crackers, ginger candies, heartburn tablets, and gum—all little nausea hacks I’ve discovered over the past six weeks. None of which are helping right now. Other than today, I have been starting to feel better.
Eventually, we collapse onto the floor next to my door, on the peeling beige-brown linoleum used for the few square feet of the entrance and kitchenette. I take small sips from Sarah’s water bottle and try to focus on
my breathing, but it’s no use. I suppose it’s only right to throw up here one last time.
Once I finish up in the bathroom, I check under the sink and all around it for any leftover stuff. I, of course, find another bobby pin and tuck that away in my pocket, but everything else is gone. Sold, donated, or on the truck outside.
“It’s really happening, huh?” Sarah says, patting the floor next to her as I near.
“It is,” I say, sliding down the wall to sit. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now,” I answer, throwing a stick of gum into my mouth. “I meant about moving in with Bo.”
“Oh…” Right, that. “Still worried?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I sigh out. “Hard not to be.”
“At least you’ll be closer to our place. I looked it up. It’s only an eighteen-minute walk.”
I nod absentmindedly, chewing like I have a vendetta against my gum.
“You can move in with us any time if you need to. But I do think this is a good thing. Maybe it’ll be awkward for a bit, but it’ll be easy to get to know each other. And once the baby arrives, you’re going to need another set of hands.”
I wince.
“Sorry… you know what I mean.” I nod, offering her a relaxed smile.
When it became obvious, five weeks ago, that I couldn’t remain at this apartment any longer, I considered taking Sarah up on her offer to move in.
But ultimately, I decided I couldn’t. Sarah and Caleb have very consciously chosen not to have kids. I never would have shaken the feeling that I was ruining their child-free existence. I’d have felt so guilty.
“I could do it on my own,” I argue, my pride beckoning to be consoled.
Sarah flicks my nose. “Of course you could. But the point is you don’t have to. Our moms had each other, right? Just think of Bo as the Marcie to your June.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Because you slept with your Marcie? Because you want to again?” Sarah asks, her voice suggestive.
Yes, but not only that. “It’s just the hormones.”
“The ones you had on Halloween or the baby-growing ones?” “Both.”
“Give yourself more credit than that.” Sarah leans against me, shoulder to shoulder. “But I get why you don’t want to complicate things more now.”
“It’s not just that I slept with him. It’s also the Jack-effect. I’ve only ever lived with one guy before.”
“That won’t happen again, Win. I promise,” Sarah says sternly, taking another sip of water.
“I know it sounds ridiculous because Bo has been nothing but kind and supportive and I’m literally moving in with the guy as if I don’t have a care in the world, but I can’t help but feel like the moment I let myself settle in, he’ll turn on me like Jack did.”
“Want to play worst-case scenario?” Sarah asks.
It’s what Marcie would offer to play with us when we were worried about shit growing up. Which, in hindsight, was mostly stuff not worth worrying over. I nod, taking a deep breath.
“So you move in with Bo, and things go well. Until one night, he snaps. Changes like Jekyll and Hyde. Like Jack.” She says his name with total disdain. “What would you do?”
“Leave. Immediately. Walk or taxi over to your house.” “Then what?”
“Um…” I try to play it out in my mind like her mother taught us. Pretend it’s actually happening and get into the nooks and back corners of my imagination to build a realistic scenario. “Caleb would probably go over and get the stuff I’d need right away. You and I would go back for the rest when Bo was out or something.”
“And then?”
“My kid wouldn’t have a dad. Or they’d have a dad that I was scared of. Then I’d have to be worried forever. Anxious about them having visits, nervous during drop-offs and pickups. If it escalated, I’d have to get a lawyer and pay to go to court. I could lose my case because Bo has more money and could afford a better lawyer. I could end up being the one in trouble, somehow. Being the one who asks him for visits.”
“Okay,” she says softly, rubbing my back in slow circles. “That’s the worst-case scenario, right? Finished?”
I nod, wiping a single hot tear off my cheek.
“Good, now—does that seem likely?” she asks, her voice sincere. “No,” I answer plainly. “No… it doesn’t.”
“What do you think is actually going to happen?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know. I don’t see Bo being a problem, but I don’t know him well enough to know what it will actually be like. When we hang out, we banter, and it’s fun and easy—but that’s as far as I know.”
“So it’s a wait and see.”
“It just keeps coming back to getting to know each other more.”
“Right, which is why I think moving in with him is a good choice. He wants to be involved, and I think trusting him until he gives you a reason not to is healthy.”
I imagine Bo the last time we saw each other in person—the night he proposed this idea. His navy cable-knit sweater under his unbuttoned suede coat, blue jeans with bright green socks poking out underneath. Not threatening whatsoever, which is impressive, considering his height.
I also think of the texts we’ve exchanged since then. The way I can’t seem to stop my smile with each flash of his name across my screen, knowing something funny or sweet is about to appear. The daily check-ins and the thank-yous and the apologies for how sick I’ve been. The anecdotes he’s learning from his first-time dad book.
I’ve convinced myself little by little over each day in the last few weeks that this is a good idea, but I think I’ll have to be comfortable in the unsureness to some extent. Most likely, there will always be a lingering amount of distrust, given what I went through. Self-preservation lives in doubt, after all.
Sarah clasps her hand around my knee, appearing deep in thought herself. “But it’s not just you in any of that, Win. In the worst case or the best possible outcome, I’m right here. You’ve got me and Caleb. Whether you want us or not.”
“I used to have your back. Remember that?” I pick at my leggings, frustrated with myself.
“Yeah, I know. I still feel it.” She leans against me, and I stop pinching the fabric around my knee. “It’s just your turn right now. That’s all it is. Turns.”
I’m about to tell her we really should be getting out of here before my landlord shows up for inspection when an echoing voice comes from down the hall. “Sarah?” Caleb shouts from the stairwell, his voice full of comical amounts of distress. “No one is answering their phone. Are you guys okay?”
I pull out my phone at the same time Sarah does, and we grimace at each other. Between us, there are a dozen missed calls and texts. “Forgive me,” she whispers. “Sorry! Win’s having a meltdown, and I’m looking after her! Be down in a minute!”
Caleb appears at the doorway, red-faced and sweating. “Please don’t stop on my account.” He laughs, falling to the floor in front of us. “I’ll just lay here and die.”
“It’s probably a good thing you two have chosen not to procreate. How dramatic would that child be?”
“Hopefully Bo’s DNA levels you out,” Caleb says, peeking at me with one eye open. I throw my gum wrapper at his face.
We sit for a while in silence. I take in the emptied apartment that suddenly feels so much smaller while Caleb catnaps on the floor as Sarah rubs his shoulder.
In the four years I’ve been here, everything has been for the purpose of getting by. A job to pay the bills, waiting for summer to come to feel a little more like myself, not pushing myself to do more or be more because I’ve been afraid. I haven’t made any real progress here. I’ve settled into a stagnant, passable life—safe but perhaps too safe. Smaller than the life I’d like to live moving forward. Maybe this is the fresh start I needed to get my ass into gear.
Maybe a little discomfort will do me some good.
