What Now?
"This can't be happening to me."
Jo is sitting on a rather uncomfortable chair in front of an old desk. The room is lit by ugly flourescent lighting. There are framed photos up on the walls of smiling faces she didn't know. On the desk was a treasure troll dressed in a blue wizard's outfit beside a photo of a boy smiling with a golden retriever.
She shifts awkwardly in her chair. "I shouldn't have walked out that night."
Of course, she's replaying that night her head, as she has repeatedly done the past few weeks trying to figure out what she could have done differently and if they would have made any difference.
It was a few weeks before the wedding. They were having an argument over something that now seems so trivial that she can't even remember how it started. What she does remember is the expression on his face as he sat on the corner of the bed. "I can't do this anymore," he said, and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Jo. I'm so, so sorry." She was stunned not so much by his words but how he had said it. "That's what you do best!!! You run when things get difficult!!" In her fury, she walked out the door and into the unseasonably bitter cold. They were supposed to be in the middle of summer. She wrapped her cardigan tightly around her and stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Ugh!"
She walked into a dimly lit bar a few blocks down and ordered a vodka tonic, downed it in three gulps and ordered another one. She liked going to that place every time they had an argument. She would sit by the bar staring unconsciously at the tv screen that would normally be on the sports channels. She never did like watching sports. She just liked having something she could ignore.
"Rough night?" She looked up and saw the new bartender smiling at her. He'd only been working there for about two weeks or so. She gave him a wan smile. "Something like that," and continued twirling her glass around. She'd been there a few times with a couple of her girlfriends and they kept pointing out how he kept staring and smiling, hoping she'd finally acknowledge him. "Want to talk about it?" he said, trying to push the conversation. She sipped her drink and looked up at him. How come I never noticed his smile before? she had thought. She smiled back, this time wider and more sincere, a slight flush running up her cheeks.
She stopped her thoughts then. She refused to replay the rest of the night in her head. She needed to forget about that. She returned to the apartment the following morning with the closet half empty and a note on the bed that said, "I'm sorry. I love you."
She fought back the tears that crept up, shut her eyes and shook her head. She needed to put this all in the past. This was why she moved to this city. To forget the pain and leave everything that reminded her of that life. Her old life. She was here to start anew.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden entrance of a squat, balding man in a white coat. He walked behind the desk and sat down with a huge smile on his face. He opened a manila folder, wrote something down and looked up at her, still with that huge grin.
"Congratulations Jo, you're six weeks pregnant."
She shifts awkwardly in her chair. "I shouldn't have walked out that night."
Of course, she's replaying that night her head, as she has repeatedly done the past few weeks trying to figure out what she could have done differently and if they would have made any difference.
It was a few weeks before the wedding. They were having an argument over something that now seems so trivial that she can't even remember how it started. What she does remember is the expression on his face as he sat on the corner of the bed. "I can't do this anymore," he said, and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Jo. I'm so, so sorry." She was stunned not so much by his words but how he had said it. "That's what you do best!!! You run when things get difficult!!" In her fury, she walked out the door and into the unseasonably bitter cold. They were supposed to be in the middle of summer. She wrapped her cardigan tightly around her and stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Ugh!"
She walked into a dimly lit bar a few blocks down and ordered a vodka tonic, downed it in three gulps and ordered another one. She liked going to that place every time they had an argument. She would sit by the bar staring unconsciously at the tv screen that would normally be on the sports channels. She never did like watching sports. She just liked having something she could ignore.
"Rough night?" She looked up and saw the new bartender smiling at her. He'd only been working there for about two weeks or so. She gave him a wan smile. "Something like that," and continued twirling her glass around. She'd been there a few times with a couple of her girlfriends and they kept pointing out how he kept staring and smiling, hoping she'd finally acknowledge him. "Want to talk about it?" he said, trying to push the conversation. She sipped her drink and looked up at him. How come I never noticed his smile before? she had thought. She smiled back, this time wider and more sincere, a slight flush running up her cheeks.
She stopped her thoughts then. She refused to replay the rest of the night in her head. She needed to forget about that. She returned to the apartment the following morning with the closet half empty and a note on the bed that said, "I'm sorry. I love you."
She fought back the tears that crept up, shut her eyes and shook her head. She needed to put this all in the past. This was why she moved to this city. To forget the pain and leave everything that reminded her of that life. Her old life. She was here to start anew.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden entrance of a squat, balding man in a white coat. He walked behind the desk and sat down with a huge smile on his face. He opened a manila folder, wrote something down and looked up at her, still with that huge grin.
"Congratulations Jo, you're six weeks pregnant."
