A Pact For Life (12 page)

This was the sentence that informed Diana’s firm of her pregnancy.

It certainly wasn’t what she envisioned, but then again, she hadn’t envisioned anything. It was assumed the news would just spread with the originator being Jenny, but Jenny hadn’t told anyone.

As the accountants congratulated the two, some of the other partners and staff of Diana’s firm came over to join in. As well wishes poured in, all Diana wanted was to get Cale outside and start yelling, but there was no escape. She was bombarded with congratulations from all sides.

Thanks to Cale, it was now Diana’s night. She was the main focus of the party, and could talk to anyone about anything.

After being told she could take off as much time as she needed to focus on the baby, Diana led Cale away from the group with a look of death. The look let Cale know he was in trouble, and so he went into what he thought would be damage control. “Sorry, darlin', I didn't think it would be problem to talk about our walks.” Cale said and grinned, “I'll try and keep your wild ways a secret from now on.”

Although he completely whiffed on why she was mad, this apology was good enough for Diana. She tapped him once on the cheek and said, “It’s alright, Cale. I'm not mad. I know how boring this must be for you and Sean so if you guys don't want to schmooze anymore, you can go back to watch the game.”

The two guys hid their excitement as they left the group of stuffy professionals. Sean thought Cale was some sort of genius who had orchestrated a way to get back to the game in the least offensive way possible. Cale thought it was a stroke of luck that stemmed from the gin and the divine.

The tenth night:
Despite his motor skills being diminished, Cale stepped out from the back seat of Nick's white Jetta with the grace of a sober man. He gave a slurred thanks for the ride home, and soon after found himself swaying back and forth in front of the building entrance. He took a deep breath, said, “Well God, help me through this,” and headed on up.

Upstairs, Diana had just finished her work for the night and was putting away all the folders, notebooks, and binders that a professional such as herself accumulates over the course of a working night.

Cale hadn't put up a fight when she kicked him out earlier. They had spent so much time together recently that they both needed a night where they could return to their respected former lives of drunken debauchery and nonstop work.

The knob of Diana's front door rattled and clicked before being replaced by a more traditional knock. Like she’s done many, many times before, Diana got up and opened it to reveal the swaying Cale.

He didn't waste any time as he rushed forward, planted a kiss, and said the three words that had consumed his night.

“I love you.”

Diana fell. She fell and she fell and there was nothing to grab onto except panic.

“Goddammit, Cale! What... why... what is wrong with you!?”

“What's the problem, darlin'? I thought this would be a good thing to tell you?”

Diana bit her lip and thought of what to say. The two couldn't have been farther apart when it came to saying, “I love you.” Diana had never told a man she loved him. It was too big of a phrase for any man she ever dated.

Cale meanwhile, had said it to plenty of girls. True, every time he said it he was drunk, but this was the way it was done now-a-days. Saying, 'I love you' while intoxicated has a built-in excuse option that most people find useful once or twice in their lives.

Cale kissed her again and said, “It's alright, we both don't need to agree that we love each other. You can take your time, but my opinion won't change.”

While he said this, they began to undress each other. Clothes were flung to all corners of the living room as they made their way to the couch. Diana threw Cale down and proceeded to make her way on top of him. While she straddled him, a thought came that she just had to share.

“Why is this so easy, Cale?”

“I don't know about you, but it's not that easy for me after all the gin I've had tonight.”

Diana hit his chest and said, “I'm not talking about that. I mean this whole love versus sex thing. When we first started dating four years ago, we had sex on, what, the second date? It was so easy to do back then, yet saying I love you right now feels like the biggest thing in the world. Why do three words feel so much more powerful than an actual act?”
¹¹

“My dad used to say that sex is meaningless without love.”

Diana continued to pontificate, as best as a naked pregnant woman straddling a man could. “I mean, with our generation, there's like this sexual handshake that exists. We have sex as an introduction, and once we get to know the person, then we actually can say we love each other. A hundred years ago, saying 'I love you' was as commonplace as hello, but to even talk about sex was as taboo as possible. What changed?”

Cale rubbed up and down Diana from her back to her ass. The alcohol was preventing him from coming up with a poignant response.

“Cale, I don't want to say those words to you right now. I hope you don't take it the wrong way, it's just a big step for me, and I want to make sure it's right when I say it.”

Cale smiled and rose up to kiss her. He couldn't reach her lips, so he settled on an area between her neck and breasts. As chills ran throughout Diana's body, she realized Cale was the only man who had the ability to make her feel this way. Maybe what she felt for him was love or maybe she wanted to believe it was love? Either way, she didn't want to think about it anymore, so she settled on something much easier – a sexual handshake.

A RELATIVE PROBLEM

Diana looked to her left at copies of US Weekly, Women’s Health Journal, and Vanity Fair. She looked to her right at an empty chair that should've been filled by Cale. She looked down at her watch, and wondered how long the examination would take.

She looked around the waiting room. There were women with stomachs so large they were stretching out their maternity clothes. It wouldn't be long until her stomach was just as big as theirs. She worked so hard for her body, and now it was destined to be ruined.

The magazines were ignored and all the emails on her phone were answered, so the only option left for Diana was to sit and stew about the impeding loss of her flat stomach. She ran through all of the post-pregnancy surgical options for a good ten minutes until a nurse came out and announced, “Ms. Young?”

Walking down a hall, the nurse handed her a plastic cup and said, “The bathroom is straight ahead, we'll need a sample.”

Thanks to the bathroom in the waiting room, Diana's bladder was empty. She had already taken at least ten pregnancy tests, why the need for another one? Did they have a better test than what was sold in the stores, and if so, why wasn't it offered to the public?

“Is it alright if I do this at the end? I don't think I can go right now.”

The nurse gave the okay and led her into the examination room. Inside there, the nurse grabbed some instruments off a table and began to run Diana through the gauntlet. She drew blood, measured height and weight, took blood pressure, and performed fifteen other tests in the span of fifteen seconds. It was quick and to the point, exactly how Diana preferred.

Handing over a clipboard and gown, the nurse said, “Slip this on and fill everything out on the form. Dr. Lincoln will be in shortly.”

Alone in the room, Diana proceeded to remove her heels, skirt, leggings, but stopped when it came to her top. There was no reason the doctor would need to see her topless. Doctor's offices are cold enough as it is. Why make yourself even more uncomfortable?

Next, Diana turned her attention to the clipboard. It started out easy enough - name, birth date, ethnicity, days since last period, allergies, health problems, if she ever visited the country Silsonia between 1967 and 1980. Page two was harder – previous surgeries, exposure to airborne pathogens, anyone she knew with hepatitis, partners with STDs. Page three was even harder – a family tree starting with her grandparents and any genetic health problems. Page four was impossible. It was exactly like page three except for Cale's family.

People actually knew this stuff? They knew whether their grandfather was allergic to peanuts or their aunt had a tendency to develop kidney stones?

A short while after Diana finished the questionnaire, Dr. Lincoln came in the room. She was an older woman who would've looked more appropriate at a craft show than a doctor's office. Warmly, she asked, “Ms. Young, how are you doing today?”

Diana reached over, shook her hand, and said, “Fine, thanks. I'm sorry, I couldn't fill out the information for my...boyfriend.
¹²
 He was supposed to be here.”

“That's quite alright, we can get the information later. How have you been doing so far?”

Dr. Lincoln was an old school, ‘my-patients-are-my-life’ type of doctor. To hell with billing stats, encounter rates, and procedure codes. She was in it to do no harm.

Glaring down at her watch, Diana said, “The morning sickness has been pretty unenjoyable, but everything else feels the same.”

“Things will change soon enough.” Dr. Lincoln replied with a smile as she wheeled up a chair. “If you don't have any other concerns at the moment, we can go ahead and begin. Go ahead and lie back. I'll be giving you a pap smear and a few other tests.”

Instruments were slid inside Diana that she did her best to ignore. She was poked and prodded, sprayed and scraped, measured and manhandled. Despite those descriptions, it was unenjoyable from start to finish.

As Diana felt another piece of cold steel enter her, Dr. Lincoln said, “Don't forget to see the receptionist before you leave. We'll need monthly visits for the next six months, then twice a month after that.”

Diana grew frustrated at this new obligation and the miserable experience it was bound to contain. She now had to set aside at least three hours every month for what would be labeled as torture in more civilized countries.

There was a knock at the door and Dr. Lincoln answered. The only thing Diana could hear from the whispering was, “Of course he can come in.” A second later, Cale walked in with ragged facial hair and eyes half closed.

“Sorry I'm late, I slept through...” Cale looked over at Diana propped up. His eyes shifted to half open and he announced energetically, “Now I'm really sorry I'm late. I promise both of you, especially you doctor, it'll never happen again.”

Dr. Lincoln took it as a heartfelt apology. “That's alright, dear. You can sit over there next to your girlfriend.”

Diana wasn't as understanding as Dr. Lincoln. She pointed to the clipboard lying on the counter and said the only words she could manage. “Fill out page four.”

Cale grabbed the clipboard, removed the pen cap with his teeth, and kept it in his mouth as he furiously wrote. Underneath Diana, Dr. Lincoln's voice resounded from inside the gown. “We'll call you with the results of your blood test in about a week or so.”

Cale asked, “What are you testing for?”

“We use it to check for things like anemia, syphilis, measles, hepatitis, and most importantly, the RH charge.” This was Dr. Lincoln’s favorite part of the job - enlightening husbands, or in this case, boyfriend, on the science, process, and effort of pregnancy.

Diana was barely listening as the doctor continued. “Everyone’s blood cells are either RH+ or RH-. If the mother and father have different charges, then you could miscarry because the mother’s body may produce antibodies to defend it against a foreign substance. It happens in about 15% of pregnancies.”

“We better check that then.” Cale replied. “This is one person who has no problem producing antibodies.”

Diana glared at Cale, noticing the clipboard sitting on his lap. There was a ‘–‘ on every field except for maternal grandfather, where he wrote ‘bald’. On further examination, there wasn’t a '-' on his mother’s section either. There was something hastily scribbled which Diana could not make out.

She wasn’t in the mood for him. Not the mockeries, jokes, or backhanded compliments. She was gearing up to tell him to leave, but was interrupted by the sudden jolt of fingers sliding into her.