Rest, Shame, Love

”James, I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air between them, vacant and hollow, almost as if they had no meaning, when in reality, those three words were the type of words that changed lives.

James stood just by the doorway of her bedroom, and for once, no expression flickered behind those hazel eyes. His face, usually gleaming with carefree joy, felt barren of any emotion. His thoughts were at a standstill, as if he had been stunned by a taser, and his mind was unable to process how he felt, how he should feel.

It was easier for Camille. She’d had more time to think things over, to discover how she felt about the matter at hand, but she was trying her best not to sway him or force him to feel the way she did. It was one of those instances in which not even her skills as an actress could save her, it was just too difficult for her to mask her emotions in that moment, too much work to try to become someone else as she watched James’s distant stare through the space between the shades.

Though she’d been mentally preparing herself for this conversation since the night before, she couldn’t fight the tears that began to well up in her deep brown eyes. They weren’t sad or regretful tears; Camille couldn’t bring herself to regret any of the decisions she’d made in her life up to this point. Each one converged to make her the person that she was, and she’d never been one to dwell over the past. Now more than ever, it was the here-and-now that mattered the most. Camille was crying because, for once in her life, she was utterly afraid. It was a shattering emotion for her, the girl that tried so hard to be strong and persevere through whatever obstacle life chose to thrust in her way. A part of her knew that this wasn’t a life sentence to failure, that many other girls had been in her position and had managed to still make something of their lives. Camille had just never imagined that she’d become one of those girls, that she’d be just another statistic.

Despite how completely and utterly hopeless she felt waiting for James’s reaction, there was a spark in the pit of Camille’s stomach that was determined to make this work somehow.

Sunkissed eyelids fluttered over olive-flecked irises as James blinked repeatedly, almost as if he was trying to pull himself back into reality. The amber beams that managed to creep through the burgundy curtains set James’s tanned skin ablaze in an ethereal glow. For a moment, he seemed more otherworldly than human, more like a savior than a desperate teenage boy.

When his gaze fell back to the fair-skinned girl perched on the edge of her bed, he reverted to a beautiful little boy again, clutching tightly to his mother’s skirt because he was so afraid of the world around him, but unlike that little boy, he now had to take responsibilities for his short-comings.

Camille could see James’s features gradually begin to soften as he stepped towards her, and she reached for the telltale pregnancy test on the nightstand, carefully offering it to him.

As his eyes fell onto the discerning pink plus sign, James turned to stone again. His stare seemed to bore into the flimsy plastic wand, almost as though if he stared hard enough, the faint pink plus would morph into a pale blue minus. It refused to budge; its results were set in stone.

With a soft sigh, James placed the test in its previous spot, carefully taking a seat on the bed beside his girlfriend. It wasn’t until then that he realized they’d never really thought about the future.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do yet?” he asked, and the question came off more callously than he’d intended.

She shook her head, her chocolate curls bouncing subtly in the gesture as her hands clutched her knees, pulling them up against her chest. “I thought it was something we should decide together. I mean, I feel like you have just as much stake in this as I do.” Her voice wavered as she spoke, and the wall she’d worked so hard to build up around her fragile body seemed to crumble to her feet in an instant.

James swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the plush, espresso carpet beneath his feet. Usually, talking to girls was second nature to him, but this was one conversation his suave charm couldn’t wrangle him free of.

He couldn’t get past the despondent expression on Camille’s face, the way her dark eyes widened at him so desperately, as if he had the solution to all of their problems. He wished he did, but he didn’t.

“We’ll find a way to get through this,” he said as he struggled to muster up his most reassuring tone, but the crack in his voice gave him away.

Camille nodded into his shoulder as she wrapped her porcelain arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest like a little girl lost. His arms eased around her back, pulling her warm body tighter against his as he softly patted her espresso-toned curls. She was just another broken doll, and he was trying to piece her back together, bit-by-bit, regardless of how conflicted he felt inside.

There weren’t many things in life that James Diamond was certain of, but one thing he knew for sure was that he’d do anything to make this work somehow, even if it meant having to cast his own dreams to the wayside. He wanted Camille to know that she wasn’t in this alone, that he’d be there for her, that he’d fill any role she required of him.

“What do you need, sweetie?” he murmured his question into the delicate curve of her ear as her chest heaved against him.

“Right now, just love me.”