Lucky Number Four (42 page)

There’s a crowd surrounding my hospital
bed—yes, I’ve figured out that’s where I am. Everyone is smiling
but Jeff, who looks like he might pass out any moment. He moves
closer, takes my hand and leans down to kiss my forehead which
succeeds in bringing tears to my eyes.

“Dora, you had me so worried. I couldn’t
catch you before you fell. I’m so sorry.” A tear trickles down his
cheek and I let go of his hand to wipe it away with my finger.

“I’m okay, see? It’s not your fault.”

I hear a sigh and a young … I guess nurse, is
looking at us with a dreamy smile.

“Doctor, I have Ms. Phillips’ test results.”
Another older woman puts a piece of paper in his hand.

“Well, it’s as I thought, Ms. Phillips. You
don’t have the stomach flu. You have morning sickness, or in your
case, not just morning but a little more extensive. I’d say you’re
about six weeks along. I’ll prescribe rest and a bland diet as
tolerated. We’ve given you IV fluids to get you hydrated. I’m sure
you and your boyfriend would like to be alone to digest this
news.”

With that, he and his staff disappear around
a green curtain. Jeff and I are left looking at each other in
stunned silence.

Pregnant? Me? I can’t be. We used protection
every time.

No, we didn’t. Not on New Year’s we didn’t. I
was too anxious.

It’s all my fault. How could this happen?

“Dora, say something. You’re scaring me.”
Jeff grabs my hand again and sits partially on my bed.

“Tell me this is a flu induced dream, and
that I’ll wake up soon. I can’t be pregnant.”

Jeff just shakes his head. “Tests don’t lie,
and it makes sense. You have no fever, Saltines calm your stomach,
and you’ve been crying a lot more than usual lately. Yep, you’re
totally pregnant.”

“What am I going to do? My mom is going to
kill me. Never mind my grandmother, who will tell me if I had gone
to finishing school, I’d have learned to keep my legs closed.”

I cover my eyes with my arm. I feel the
beginning of a panic attack, which I’ve never had, but I think I’m
about to experience one.

“Your mom won’t kill you, but you’re right
about your grandmother. She won’t be happy, and you’ll be banned
from the family.”

“Thanks for the pep talk. What am I going to
do?”

Panic is starting to take over. My whole body
starts to shake.

“Hey, now. Relax. Maybe it’s time to talk to
Drew,” he says.

He lies down beside me, pulling me into his
arms. I’m trembling uncontrollably, and he’s making soothing sounds
and rubbing my non-IVed arm. I’m relishing the heat from his body,
and the warmth seems to help. My panic button has seemed to have
reset itself.

“Hmmrph. Excuse me, is she okay?” A
fresh-faced nurse is staring at us, and I bet she’s wondering if
it’s her job to tell him that he should get out of the bed. But she
doesn’t say another word, just winks and leaves.

“Jeff, promise me something, and I mean
really promise me, not just lip service.”

“Anything for you, Dora.”

He smiles, and I suddenly feel like I can do
this. Other single women have babies and the children turn out all
right. After all, I have seven and a half months to prepare. I’ll
have to find a job to support us. Of course I have to finish
school.

But what about my family? What kind of role
model am I for Bridget and Taylor? Oh, hell, I start to shake again
as the enormity of the situation hits me. I’m going to be someone’s
mom.

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“You said I have to promise, so I’m waiting
to see what I have to promise you.”

“Oh, yes. Don’t roll your eyes. I’ve just
realized I’m going to be someone’s mother. But I digress. Promise
me you won’t tell Drew or anyone else until I’ve thought this
through. You’ll have to cross your heart, pinky swear, and anything
else you can think of.”

I feel his body vibrate and realize he’s
laughing.

“Hey, it’s not funny,” I semi-yell at
him.

“Pinky swear? Really?” He chuckles and I join
in.

“You know what I mean. I’m serious. This is
serious.” My eyes fill up with tears. God, this hormone thing is
real.

“Okay, don’t cry. I’ll do anything if you
don’t cry. I won’t tell a soul, promise. Dora, I’m here for you and
the baby. I won’t desert you, but I think down the road, Drew needs
to know. It’s his baby too.”

“But it’s my fault. I was so careless and
worked up that night, and didn’t have him use a condom. We were so
mindful after than night though. Who gets pregnant the first
time?”

“How many first times are we talking about?
How many times that night?” He looks at me in amazement.

“I lost track after the first, but it was
quite a few,” I say sheepishly, the law of averages was definitely
against me.

“So it seems you played the odds and gained a
bundle.”

He did
not
just say that. Just wait
until I get my strength back.

“Something tells me you’re angry now. If the
sparks shooting out of your eyes are any indication, then you are,
but at least you’re not crying.” Jeff jumps off the bed and sits in
a chair, a few safe feet away when I send him a playful glare.

The last few weeks have been a complete blur.
I felt much better after the hospital visit, and Jeff has been the
ultimate caretaker. He made me an appointment after doing tons of
research on every obstetric doctor in the area. Thank heaven, it’s
a woman. She doesn’t normally take my insurance, but miraculously,
she made an exception. Jeff won’t tell me why though. All he said
was it must be his magnetic personality, which is a bunch of
bull.

The doctor visit went okay. I got a clean
bill of health and a prescription for horse-sized vitamin pills.
She said the ER doctor was right, and she agrees I got pregnant on
New Year’s once I informed her that we had used protection every
time after that. Jeff came in with me and used the same line that
allowed him to be in the ER with me—that he was my boyfriend. Which
technically isn’t a lie since he is both my friend and a boy.

Every day after my first appointment, Jeff
has made sure I follow the instructions of the doctor and eat three
meals a day, all bland tasting of course. Luckily, my nausea has
started to subside. In fact, it seems surreal that I have a “bun in
the oven,” as Jeff lovingly refers to the baby.

I still don’t know how I’m going to tell
everyone, so I’ve distracted myself by concentrating on my studies.
My heart is still mending, and I lie in bed every night wondering
where Drew is, and what he’s doing. It really hurts. Jeff and I had
a blowout or up, whatever, the other day, as he took it upon
himself to tell my job I won’t be coming back. I was mad for a
whole day and told him I needed the money, and he said he would pay
for all my stuff, which is ludicrous. His parents have always made
him work to pay his bills. He says not to worry, and I wonder where
he’s getting the money since he quit his job as well just to take
care of me.

I promise to pay him back one day, but I’m
not sure how realistic of a promise that is. Every time I think of
what it takes to raise a child, it makes me sick to my stomach.
Termination or adoption are most definitely both out. I want to
keep this baby, so I’ll just have to make it work.

“Dora, how about Papa’s tonight?” Jeff asks
from the living room.

“We can’t afford to eat out. I wish you would
tell me where you’re getting all this money.” I come out of my
bedroom and put my hands on my hips. I’m going to get him to spill
or die trying. Okay, I’m not going to die … it’s just a saying.
“Anyway, my pants are getting tighter, and soon I’ll have to wear
bigger clothes. Everyone will know soon. But I’m giving you an out,
so spill. Where’s the money coming from?” I glare at him, hoping
I’ll scare his gorgeous face into fessing up.