Do You Think You're Up For This?

“I’ve got my head in my hands, ‘cause I’m dying to help you out. It’s been a hell of a time, but I know we can work this round. If I go out of my way, well, I know I can hear you breathing. It’s been a hell of a day.” – Pistol Youth

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I wait for her response so I can comfort her, touching her cheek to get her to look at me. She raises her gaze back to mine, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispers quietly.

My eyes widen in shock, and my hand drops from her face. As much as I’d like to think so, I know I haven’t imagined those words.

“Are…are you…positive?” I stammer nervously, glancing at her.

“Yes. I went to the doctor today. It’s almost been four weeks.” I take a long, deep breath and then rub my face with my hands and through my hair.

I can’t believe this.

I continue to take deep breaths in order to stay calm, even though I’m near panicking on the inside.

I zone out speechlessly, unsure how many minutes or seconds have passed in the meantime. I hear Rae’s shallow breathing from beside me and return to reality.

“How did this happen?” I ask shakily, meeting her watery eyes again. I pull her into my arms as a sob tears itself from her lips and she starts to cry. “What are we going to do?” I wonder out loud. I rub her back as soothingly as I can while she cries uncontrollably into my shirt. Her grip on me tightens and I notice she’s started shaking, so I hold her closely. “The timing is all wrong,” I mumble, stroking her hair softly.

I hold her like that for a long time until she stops trembling, and then she pulls away from me to catch her breath, her green eyes red at the edges from crying.

I chew on my lip and concentrate on a spot on the wall; I’m still trying to process this.

“I need…I need to…think,” I say slowly, heaving a sigh.

I pull her into my arms again to feel her warmth and I kiss the top of her head before letting go and standing up.

I stop in the doorway, looking back at her.

“Don’t cry, Rae. We’ll be okay. We’ll figure something out,” I try to reassure her, but it’s so weak an attempt that I’m not even sure I believe myself. I make my way to our bedroom in a daze.

I change into more comfortable clothes and collapse onto the bed in exhaustion.

A headache claims my mind as I realize the magnitude of the situation and the months ahead of us.

We’re going to be parents.

I don’t know if we’re ready.

I don’t know if I’m ready.

I lie on my side, staring blankly at the wall, all the doubts clouding my mind until I can hardly stand to think about it anymore.

Eventually, my mind numbs over and my eyelids start to close of their own accord from fatigue.

I distantly feel Rachel’s slight weight on the opposite side of the mattress.

I hear her breathing occasionally hitch with a hiccup from her extensive crying.

I want to hold her and tell her everything’s going to be okay, but sleep overtakes me before I can make the conscious decision to do so.

I'll have to try harder in the morning.