The Impossible Children

The answer Kurt had settled on for why he was leaving Vogue was “it's personal.” For some, that was it; others got a slightly extended, but none the less vague “a lot of stuff has come up, but I'd rather not talk about it here” or something similar. It pained him to lie to his boss, Isabelle, of whom he thought so highly, but she seemed to accept his reasons...whatever she thought they were.

Now, unfortunately, the day had finally come: his last day interning at Vogue. He couldn't believe how heartbreaking just losing a job could be, but leaving this place, these people, this incredible opportunity was so unbelievably hard. He was going to miss everything and everyone so much, especially Isabelle, his “fairy godmother.” He owed her so much; he wished that he could tell her somehow that he was not just throwing it all away flippantly or for nothing. He hoped she understood that somehow, even as he told her nothing of his true situation.

He answered the phone and fought tears for a great portion of his last day, with occasional interruptions from co-workers. Then, towards the end of his shift, Isabelle called everyone into a meeting. Kurt didn't know what to expect or hope for. Suddenly, he found himself feeling very anxious and out of place (which stung, for this had been a good place for him for such a too-brief, but marvelous time.)

As he filed into the meeting room with everyone else though, he was no longer certain what to feel. He felt floored to say the least. A banner told him, “We'll miss you.” There were refreshments and snacks on a side table, and everyone in the room was either looking at Isabelle or him.

“C'mon, Kurt,” Isabelle said, urging him into the room and out of the doorway in which he was frozen in place. She pulled him into a hug, which he returned heartily once he got over his shock. Breaking away, she said with more volume, “You didn't think we'd let you leave without a going away party, did you?”

Now everyone was looking at him. “I-I don't know what to say.” He could feel tears forming in his eyes again. “Just thank you. Thank you all so much...f-for everything. Especially you, Isabelle.” He wiped his eyes and sniffed. “Sorry.” Someone handed him a box of tissues. He couldn't help but laugh slightly. “I told myself I wouldn't cry today, but I should've known better.” That got some chuckles from some people. He smiled and tried to maintain his composure.

Soon everyone dispersed and began mingling. Kurt took the opportunity to talk more with Isabelle. She gave him another hug. “Oh, Kurt, I'm sorry we can't provide any strong drinks during office hours, you poor thing.”

Kurt laughed weakly. “It wouldn't help. It'd probably just make me weepier.” And then he thought about how people in his condition shouldn't drink, and it made him sick.

“I know saying stuff like this won't help at all, but you really will be missed around here, you know?” Isabelle said.

“Really?” Kurt still was not sure that she wasn't just saying that.

“I'm serious,” she said, “C'mon, we all love you here. You're a hard worker, you care about the job, and you know fashion. Plus, you're a good person. You're like the whole package.”

“Wow.” Kurt felt floored all over again. “Thanks so much. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“You're cool, Kurt, and you've really helped me out a lot around here, so thank you. I just wish you didn't have to leave—”

“Again, I'm really, truly, sorry, and believe me, I really wish I didn't have to,” Kurt interjected.

“Kurt, it's fine, really,” Isabelle said earnestly, “I know how much this job means to you; anyone with eyes could see that leaving here is not something that you're doing lightly. I don't know everything that's going on with you right now, but I understand. I know you wouldn't just quit if it weren't necessary.”

“Thanks so much for understanding,” Kurt said.

“Of course,” Isabelle responded, “let's keep in touch, okay? If you're able to and cool with it?”

“Definitely yeah,” Kurt replied eagerly.

In the end, Kurt had to admit that the party had left him with a strange sense of closure. It was incredibly bittersweet, but if he had to leave he was glad to have had such a send off. He also pondered Isabelle's request to keep in touch. He wouldn't be up for any get-togethers for a while, but if he was really lucky, she'd still be interested several months later. He dared to be hopeful.

He had originally intended to leave work early and then complete the rest of his errands, but he couldn't bear to leave such good company (and one of his “errands” was to have some fun before becoming a total shut-in, so he reasoned that this was fulfilling that.) He ended up staying late and hanging out with Isabelle, his friend Chase, and a few others.

When he returned to the loft, Santana met him at the door. “Hey, Lady Hummel—!” She actually winced a bit at Kurt's reaction and shot him a quick apologetic look. That was a habit that was clearly going to be hard to break.

She continued, “You're just in time to join in on the unfolding drama.”

“Huh?” It had been something of a long day for Kurt, and he wasn't ready to follow either of his roommates' trains of thought just yet.

In a more casual tone, Santana said, “Berry's been all worked up about this whole possibly being preggo thing all day. She's peeing on a stick right now.”

“Oh,” Kurt replied. He briefly entertained the idea of being pregnant at the same time as Rachel and felt the intense need to crawl out of his skin as a result.

He had wondered why Rachel had put off taking the test. She had been so scared after all, and it wasn't very Rachel-like to put things off that way. Then again, she had been so scared. Maybe she was afraid of the possible truth; although, surely not knowing would be worse.

His thoughts were interrupted by Rachel emerging from the bathroom. She looked happy, so Kurt intuited that the results were negative. Still, he waited to hear it from her.

Santana didn't. “So, are you knocked up or what?”

“Nope,” Rachel replied with clear relief, “It's negative.”

Kurt wanted to be more happy for Rachel, but the cruel and bizarre irony of their situation was tormenting him. Still, he hugged her and said, “That's great, Rach!”

“Surely we have all learned a very valuable lesson from all of this, and that is never have unprotected ex sex,” Santana said. She glanced at Kurt briefly, but said nothing of his condition or its ironic timing. Although it still weighed on Kurt and made him feel very much like the elephant in the room, he was grateful that she did not point it out. He looked back at her, trying to silently convey this gratitude.

The following week was a very strange one for Kurt. He was having a hard time adjusting to the odd feeling of not having outside obligations. He just could not get used to the idea that he had no work, no classes at school. He had nothing except nervously straightening up the apartment, running his last minute errands, and his commitment to see Dr. Samuels soon.

His errands mostly consisted of getting clothing that would fit him in the coming months. Just the thought of it horrified him, so the task was a little maddening. He hated it. He absolutely hated every second of it. It was, however, necessary whether he liked it or not.

He also made it a point to take walks. He walked all over the city. He walked through the park. He took everything in. He would not be able to explore these places for a long time or possibly ever again.

He thought of all the things he had always taken for granted a lot more now. He wanted to take it all in, every single detail of every single thing. He people-watched, dog-spotted, and even bird-watched. He stared into the blue of the sky and watch the clouds roll by; he wanted to memorize the feeling of the fresh air and warm sun, thinking of how he might die soon and never again experience them. One day he walked in the rain, wanting as well to remember how that felt.

Then, one day he realized that his errands were completed. Now he needed to adapt to his new life as a shut-in. He couldn't keep going out; he would not be able to soon.

Maybe sooner than he thought...

He ran a hand down the length of his abdomen. The difference was small, but unmistakable. He stared at his stomach and at his figure in the mirror, and he observed something that had happened gradually but surely (despite his best efforts to ignore it) over the course of the previous weeks.

Now, it was finally getting frighteningly real. The time he had hoped he could somehow escaped if he denied it thoroughly and desperately enough was officially upon him. Seeing the difference, however slight, in himself made him profoundly uncomfortable, but he could not stop staring in horror.

His stomach was protruding slightly. It was small, yet, but it was enough to instill horror in him. It wasn't bloat, it wasn't fat, it was it. And this was just the beginning. His heart pounded nervously in his chest, and he felt sick. This nightmare was intensifying.

A knock on the bathroom door almost made him jump out of his skin. He placed a hand on his chest. “J-just a minute.”

“Kurt?” Rachel asked tentatively from the other side of the door.

“Just a minute, Rachel,” he repeated. He hated the quiver in his voice that betrayed any attempts to hide his current emotional state.

“Kurt, are you okay?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah,” he lied, “I'm fine.” In truth, he wouldn't know how exactly to describe how he was feeling if he tried.

“Okay,” his friend replied, “it's just you've been in there a while and—”

“I said I'm alright. Damn. Hold your horses,” he snapped. He tried once more to fasten his jeans, but the embarrassing realization was dawning on him that the task was one that he was now destined to fail. “Damn it,” he whispered with frustration. Realizing the situation this now left him in, he sighed and pinched the bridge of this nose.

And suddenly, he was more self-conscious than ever before. His shirt still fit fine, but now he wondered it maybe even it showed too much. He gave it another look over with paranoid, anxious eyes. His face was turning hot and red. Sheepishly, he asked, “Um, actually—Rachel, are you still there?”

“Yes, and I will remain here until you get out. I really need to go,” Rachel retorted.

“Okay, sorry, but I need you to go into my bedroom and get another pair of pants for me. One of the new ones.”

“Does it matter which ones?” Rachel asked.

He was glad that she seemed to be reserving any judgement of him or any otherwise embarrassing commentary. “Um, I guess not. Just the reasonably sized ones, not the huge ones.” He wasn't ready for those yet, but he felt those times ahead of him looming much closer than before.

“Okay,” Rachel said and presumably left to go on her quest.

In her absence, Kurt continued to be self-conscious and horrified and inspect himself. “God, I'm not ready for this,” he concluded anxiously. Then again, there was no preparing for something like this; he was never going to feel ready. It was always going to just happen, ready or not. Something about that, the utter helplessness of his situation, just made it all the more frightening. He moved a nervous hand over his slightly enlarged stomach. He closed his wide, scared, staring eyes and shook his head. He would never get used to this,and even if he did it would just continue to get worse.

Rachel knocked at the door again, and he cursed himself for jumping once again. “Okay, Kurt,” she said, “I got 'em.”

He opened the door just a crack. “Thanks, Rachel.” He took the pants from her and shut the door once more. She had retrieved a pair of sweat pants that did not at all match his shirt, but he supposed that it didn't really matter. It was not as if he was going out or expecting company; there was absolutely no one to impress or to care about what he looked like. Anyway, he would probably change his shirt since he was no longer so confident in its fit.

He sighed. Maybe it was not his clothes that he was no longer confident in or comfortable in. Maybe it was him; maybe it was, in fact, his own skin. Maybe it was his body that was already starting to change in horrifying ways.

“This is it,” he thought, once dressed, “this is the beginning of the end.”