Confessions to My Past

When your doctor told you’d have a problematic pregnancy, most women would certainly not take off driving mindlessly through the country. I wasn’t most women, though.
Seeing as I had no obligations at home, I decided I would take myself a little vacation for at least two weeks.
I’d been driving for three days when I decided I wanted to go to the coast; so I headed for Charlestown, South Carolina, where I’d spent a holiday once with my American friends. It seemed lifetimes ago, though it’s been only 5 years.
I rented a nice hotel room and then went shopping, always intent to never start thinking. There was one advantage to being pregnant and constantly growing: You had an excuse to shop new clothes every week. Though I had to say it wasn’t so great a feeling getting huger every day, especially if you’ve been fighting every day since your teenage years to stay slim.
After 4 hours of shopping, I returned to my hotel to unpack my newly bought stuff, then I headed for an early dinner at a beach bar with an adjoined restaurant.
It was only 6 p.m. and there were just three tables occupied. I chose a table for two at the side facing the beach, ordered a glass of water and studied the menu.
Just as I closed it, a family sat down at the table next to me. I felt as if living a damn cliché. The pregnant girl who just broke up with her boyfriend now sees how perfect and blissful family is and goes running back to him.
No.
I wouldn’t invite Dean back into my life yet again.
When the husband went to the bathroom with the approximately three-year-old son, the mother leaned back, let out a sigh, then turned to me with a tired, but honest smile and asked: “When is yours due?”
I blinked. It felt strange having such a question directed at me; odd as it may sound, I was not completely immersed in the whole soon-to-be-motherhood thing. I was pregnant and would have a child, yes, but that’s as far as my concern went. “January.” I replied, and my sense told me it was time to smile, so I pulled the corner of mouths up.
‘Same month as his father,’ The thought crept into my mind unasked.
“Boy or girl?”
“Boy.”
“I hope your husband has a lot of time.” The woman laughed. “Kyle is absolutely fixated on his Daddy, and to be honest, he can be a real whirlwind and isn’t always easy to handle. But then he comes at the end of the day, hugs me and smiles at me, saying ‘I love you, Mommy’, and I couldn’t be happier.”
I smiled, more forcedly now. For one, because I wondered how I got stuck in conversations (monologues, really, but who kept score) about kids and education. For another, because painful images of Dean playing football with our son flashed up in my mind, and I couldn’t get rid of them.
“Well, actually…” I started, then didn’t know how to go on.
The other woman looked at me expectantly.
“My boyfriend and I aren’t married.” I ended with a fake smile. I was so not in the mood of sharing my life’s story.
“Ah, well, if that’s all. What matters is that you love each other. Isaac and I didn’t get married until Kyle was two years old.”
I took a large gulp of my water, wishing it was Martini. I didn’t want to talk about marriage, kids, husbands and all the other crap.
Feeling lucky that I didn’t place my order yet, I smiled apologetically at the enthusiastic mother and said: “It was so nice meeting you, but I have to go, I’ve got an appointment with my best friend. Enjoy your stay in Charleston!”
“Oh, thank you, you, too!” She smiled. “And best of luck to you and the father-to-be!”
I waved and then hurried down the street. I stopped at a Chinese take-away restaurant.
“Finally. Peace.” I closed the hotel door behind me, set down the bag with my food and turned on the TV.
Right on time for a Pampers add.
I punched a button and switched channel. Just to have a beaming family smile dumbly at me trying to get me to buy their cornflakes for a ‘perfect breakfast for the whole family’.
“Does this feel like a bad movie scene to anyone else?!” I cried into the empty room.
I punched the button again. Screaming girls, a blood-covered vampire running down a dark alley.
“Ah, thank God.” I leaned back, unsnapped the wooden chopsticks and started eating, actually managing not to remember the few times Dean, Sam and I had eaten Chinese...
My phone rang. “Yup?”
“Josie, it’s me, Amy.”
“Hey, honey.”
“What are you doing?”
“Watching cheap horror movies and eating Chinese.”
There was a pause at the other end. “You don’t sound too upset.”
“Should I be? I feel fantastic.” So maybe that was slightly exaggerated.
“Sam called…”
“Oh, how is he?” If there was a prize for fake cheery mood, I would so win.
“Pissed. Just like I am.”
I flinched. That didn’t sound good.
“I mean, what the hell, Josie?!”
“Amy, I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. Dean and I weren’t going to work, alright? It happens, stop giving me hell about it.” Because believe me, I did that myself. Daily. Hourly. Minutely.
“Bullshit! You were working it out just fine, and you still love each other! What the hell is so wrong with you two that you’re ready to throw away what you had?”
“Yeah, note the past tense? Something else: Dean and I had as good as nothing together. He had his life, didn’t want to give it up, and I had my life and didn’t want to give it up.”
“You’re so damn-“
“Selfish? Yeah, heard that before. Look, Amy, I don’t see why you care so much.”
“And I don’t get how you care so little! You’re carrying Dean’s child, for God’s sake! Doesn’t that mean anything to you at all?”
“Yeah, it means I chose the wrong guy to get me pregnant.” I stated dryly. It was true in more than one way.
“You’re unbelievable. And I am seriously pissed at you this time.”
“Amy, stop. Just stop. This is my life. And I’m glad you’re part of it, but stop interfering. Dean and I are adults, we made a choice.”
“Yeah, the wrong one.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“Fine. Be that way. But don’t come knocking in ten years when you’ve realized what a mess you’ve really made.”
I hung up. I was feeling crappy enough without my best friend giving me hell about what I’ve done; didn’t Amy think I was suffering enough without her adding her part?
Moreover, didn’t she know that by urging me so fiercely into a direction, she would chase me right into the other? It’s the way my mind worked.
Now that a third party had her hands in it, I was even more inclined following my stubborn, proud mind and not do what others told me to.

*****

“So you were with Ryan when he was dragged into the water?” Sam scribbled something on his notepad, just to look busy and business-like.
“Yeah.” The middle-aged man across him said with a raspy voice revealing a lifetime of smoking. “He leaned over, said he saw somethin’ in the water…then he toppled over and was gone.”
“So he fell, he wasn’t pulled?” Dean asked.
The guy frowned. “Not sure. Could have been pulled.”
“Thank you very much, Mr Fuller, I think we got all we need.”
The older man nodded and got up to see them to the door. Sam and Dean walked down the sidewalk to the Impala.
A young couple walked past them, pushing a baby carriage. Dean put enough trust in Sam to say nothing, but Sam had been agitated ever since Josie and he had broken up. Which meant he would take every chance to make his point of view clear.
“You know…” He started with fake innocence. “I wonder if my nephew has Josie’s eyes. Sadly, I’ll probably never know.”
“Sam.” Dean said warningly.
“I also wonder what his name is going to be. I mean, his last name is obviously going to be Hepburn, but that still leaves me wondering about the first name.”
“I swear I’ll start swinging if you don’t shut up.”
Sam wasn’t put off. “Wouldn’t it be funny if he was born on January 24th, just like you? Oh, wait, we’ll never know.”
“Sam, I mean it. Shut the hell up, right now.”
“You know, maybe it’s good that he won’t ever know you, seeing as that he might not even speak your language. I mean, Josie could be in Germany and raise your son there without us ever knowing. Oh, wait, that’s right: You don’t care.”
Dean had it. He punched Sam in the face.
Sam didn’t even as much as flinch. “You should be teaching your son to throw a decent punch, Dean, not me.”