A Pact For Life (18 page)

There was a whir, click, and suddenly silence followed by a blinking red light. “Goddammit!” Diana shouted and pounded her fist on the desk. The window in her office didn't open though, so she had to settle with verbally abusing the printer. It responded with a blinking red taunt.

Jamie appeared in the doorway and asked, “Everything alright?”

“It's nothing.” Diana answered as she opened the printer cover and began to fish around its insides.

“Here, I'll get it for you.” Jamie walked over and rolled up his sleeves in preparation to tackle the labyrinth of an industrial sized printer. Reaching into the many crevices of rollers, he fiddled around for a second before pulling out two sheets of paper folded into accordions. “It should be good now, Diana.”

There was a knock at the door before Diana could give her thanks. In the doorway stood a tan, freckled brunette in an outfit that made you wonder how she could breathe.

“Jamie, I finally found you! Are you ready to leave?”

“Sure, I'll meet you by the elevators in just a sec.” Jamie was embarrassed that Diana was there to witness this exchange. After being at the firm for several months and surviving the internship process, he could spot which interns were in it for real and which romanticized the job and were as good as gone in a month. The brunette might as well of had
One Month
tattooed across her tramp stamp.

Diana meanwhile had no idea who the girl was, but also didn't care. She sat back down at her desk and said, “Thank you for fixing my printer, Jamie.”

The icon of the mouse met the print command once again and the whirling and humming started, only this time paper actually came out. On the printer rested a will. Letterhead, check. Dates, check. Proper names, check. Now all that mattered was to read the thing to make sure the substance matched the style.

The will belonged to one of Denver’s more long-lasting restaurateurs. As Diana got to the last line of items, she read,
To my son Frank, I leave all of the assets to Jerry’s Deli LLC.
Coincidentally enough, Frank the son had contacted Diana’s firm about helping with the sale of the deli. He wanted nothing to do with his father’s legacy, and that was when it hit Diana.

Legacy. How long after she died would there be any mark or memory of her existence? Including her sister, brother, and cousins, the person 'Diana Young' would only be remembered for one more generation, maybe two if her siblings had any kids. Plus, as far as any lasting effects from her work, unless she one day became a judge or had a high profile case, everything she had ever worked for would be boxed, stored, and destroyed as soon as the statute of limitations were met.

Diana had not wanted to believe it, but that was one part, too tough to determine whether it was large or small, but it was a part nonetheless for why she wanted a child. As long as her offspring, and their offspring were alive on this planet, Diana wouldn’t be forgotten. You can call it a selfish reason for having kids, but deep down in almost every person is some desire to never be forgotten.

As far as legacy playing a part on the decision to have kids, it applied to Cale as well. Only it was the opposite for him. He didn’t need kids to preserve his legacy. People would remember him long after he had died. Hell, dying could probably be the best thing Cale could do for his legacy.
²⁰

While pondering this, a beep came from Diana’s phone along with the receptionist’s voice. “Diana, you have a call from a Mary at Dr. Lincoln’s office.”

“Put it through to my voice mail, please.”

Diana assumed it was to schedule another appointment. After all, she seemed to go to that office every week.

The flashing green light on her phone was now on. Diana firmly hit the voice mail button and began to half-heartedly listen.

“Hi Diana, this is Mary from Dr. Lincoln’s office. I’m calling with the results of your Chromogender Identification test. Since you marked yes about receiving this news on your initial questionnaire, I hope this is okay to leave the results on your voice mail. So like I was saying, the results of your CI test came back and it’s a girl. Congratulations, you're having a girl.”

…

…

Diana missed the button to end the voice mail because her hand shook so badly.

Depending on her mood and situation, the most important moment of Diana’s life would be an ever shifting event. It’s not proper to give this phone call that superlative. However, if you wanted to keep it in a strictly phone related category, then yes, that phone call was the most important one in Diana’s entire life.

It was a girl. It was her girl. Her baby.

As soon as she regained her composure, Diana called up the abortion clinic and canceled the appointment.

A PLAN, WE MUST DEVISE

For Cale, it was a far more lucid Pharmaceutical Wednesday than usual. He had abstained from drinking or drugs since returning from DC, which created an incredibly boring Monday and Tuesday. His days had been spent trying to come up with ways to get Diana back, while his nights consisted of pathetic attempts to sleep the way no one does anymore – without help from chemicals.
²¹

He tried to call Diana in hopes of at least meeting face to face, but none of his calls were returned. It didn't help that he hadn't left any messages, but voice mail was not how Cale Dawkins operated.

“Think guys, we need to come up with a way for me to get Diana back.” Cale announced to Brian and Nick.

“I'm not sharing my wisdom until you take a pill.” Brian said, steamed that Cale waved off their Wednesday tradition. Brian had planned on taking Ulexotrid, an experimental drug that gives sociopaths empathy toward others, but Cale's refusal led Brian to take something less experimental and more FDA approved. He didn't want to be euphoric enough that he would help Cale.

“Just be honest with her,” Nick shared behind the screen of his laptop. Like always, he had taken 20 MG of Adderall and was firmly ensconced in Wikipedia. “Showing up at her place in the middle of the night has always worked in the past.”

“No it hasn't. That plan has hardly ever worked.” Cale said with a clear memory of that tactic's success rate.

He decided to shelve the Diana plan, and focus on something else he realized in DC – Brian and Nick's refusal to join the world at large. “Are you both happy with your current lives?”

“Yeah,” They both quickly replied.

“So neither of you want anything more out of life? Wives, girlfriends, more friends?”

“Nope,” Was their synchronized answer.

“What about just getting laid?”

Nick spoke first, “Online porn works fine for me.”

Brian followed, “I have drugs that are better than fucking.”

Cale grew frustrated at how easily they could turn off the need for something more in life. “How can you guys continue on like this? If either of you were the last man alive, would you claim it's heaven?”

Brian settled back and took a large gulp of coffee, “Cale, I realize you are going through some sort of existential crisis, but you are going to drive yourself crazy if you dwell on this Diana stuff too much. If you really want my help getting her back, then at least take half a Darvocet. You being sober on a Wednesday night is unsettling.”

“Goddammit, break off half a pill.”

Brian split the white tablet down the middle and handed it over to Cale, who lifted his hand up to his mouth, took a swig of coffee, and swallowed. His right hand came down into the pocket of his jeans and opened up, letting the Darvocet fall out.

Brian smirked and clasped his hands together in a prayer, before exclaiming, “Much better. Now, how to get Diana back. Firstly, as you may know, we are men.”

Cale rolled his eyes.

“Don't be getting all high and mighty on this, Cale, it's good advice. So like I was saying, as guys, we can't possibly know what goes on in the head of a woman, especially one as complicated as Diana. If you want a plan to get her back, you need advice from that demographic. Call up Jenny. She'll know what you can do.”

“That's your plan? Passing off the work to Jenny?” Cale wasn't sure if Jenny would even talk to him, let alone meet up, but he knew he had to at least try.

He walked back to the office, dug his cell phone and half of a pill out of his pocket, and took care of both at the same time.

The pill met the trashcan, while the phone met his ear.

The Diana Young Pregnancy Update 

Estimated weeks till delivery: 26 

Shape of stomach: A football cut in half. 

Food Craving: A smoothie with some sort of rhyme in the title. Bananarama, Mango Tango, Merry Berry.

Mood: Pretty happy despite being in a mall a week before Christmas.

In the grand scheme of the universe, Diana's decision to keep the baby meant nothing. But on a much, much, much, smaller scale, the scale that balanced at 125 pounds and growing daily, it meant a lot. On the 115 pound scale, the scale of Terri Young, it meant all of existence.

“We'll need to go to The Baby Depot and get a registry started, then go pick out the colors for the nursery. Oh Diana, I'm so excited!!” Terri shouted as they walked by a depressed looking Santa Claus facing a line of kids without an end.

Diana held up her hand and said, “Hand it over.”

“Oh stop with that. I'm not giving you a dollar.”

Like a child with a swear jar, Diana imposed a fine on her mother in some desperate attempt to squash any over-excited behavior.
²²

Entering The Baby Depot, a place where grown women wept from excitement and grown men wept in terror, Diana looked out at the mothers - both expectant and otherwise. She overheard complete strangers talking to each other in the checkout lines about weeks until delivery, birthing methods, first pregnancies, and wishful physical features. They all seemed to be a part of one big club where the members had nothing in common except pregnancy. It was a club that Diana was unable to let herself be a part of. Just because she accepted motherhood didn’t mean she wanted to talk about the pros and cons of cloth diapers with everyone in the store. Wearily, she asked her mom, “Can this be the last stop?”

“Oh, are you and Cale going out tonight?” Terri replied.

“Yeah… uh… we are supposed to go to the movies at 8:30.” Outside of Jenny and Cale, no one else knew about Diana being single or the close call with the abortion. The time wasn't right to tell everyone that Cale left, and the time would never be right to tell everyone about the abortion.

They stepped up to the registry computer, a machine with a screen coated in finger prints. To start, Diana began to quickly type in her name –
Du... Diam..
.

“Mom, can you do this? Add whatever the baby will need, but try not to make it too girly.”

Terri wasted no time in stepping in for Diana, working the touch screen over with an inherent speed and accuracy only a future grandmother would possess. Scrambling to get out of the store, Diana found a small, empty corner where she could sit in relative quiet.

In front of her was an escalator with a mirrored wall that ran up the side. She was staring at herself, studying the new shape her body had gradually grown into. She was still a long ways off from being big enough that people felt comfortable in asking if she was pregnant, but she swore the bump in her shirt had doubled in size since the previous day.

Diana's gaze moved past her reflection, and settled on a salon that was as typical as any mall salon in America – A few bored hairdressers in their forties and fifties, window advertisements offering free shampoos with haircuts, and of course, a neon sign displaying 'Walk-In's Welcome'.

She looked back into the escalator mirror, and shifted her focus from her stomach to her long, red hair. It looked cold and demanding, the type of hair suitable for a career woman. She wanted to be more than that; she wanted to be something warmer, and that’s when she decided it was time to cut off her locks. Without giving it a second thought, Diana stood up, walked over to the salon, and gave the hairdresser the command to make it short.