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 Holly Winter Living The Life Of Holly July 2, 2003 “Who are the flowers from?” Darlin-man asked as he walked into my apartment for our date. “Rich. He sent them from New York. Aren’t they incredible?” “Why’d he send them?” Ok. Can’t get windy here. What do I say? Can I cushion it some how? Make it seem nicer than it is? How do I say it? Do I offer a drink first? Is there a way to bring up bad news? What exactly should I say? “He sent them because I had a miscarriage.” I said as evenly as I could. He spun away from the flowers. “You were pregnant?” “Yes.” “Did you know?” “No.” “Are you ok?” “Yes.” He leaned back against the counter. “You were pregnant?” “Yes.” I bit my lip. “Oh my God.” He stared straight ahead. “So. That time. Two weeks ago. That time. You got pregnant.” I laughed. “Yes.” “How did Rich know?” “He happened to call. He has a new job. He’s working days now.” “Who else knows?” “Mark. My mom. The woman at ‘Ask A Nurse.’ Shelby. Ralph.” “Everyone knew but me?” He asked, hurt. I moved towards him. “Your daughter was here. I wasn’t supposed to call, right? Isn’t that what we agreed on?” “Yes.” He said slowly. “But she left the night before last. I worked yesterday.” “You worked?” “Yes.” Our communication was definitely failing. “I didn’t call because we agreed…” “It’s ok.” He said, pulling me into a hug. “You didn’t know she was gone.” I sighed. She’d left earlier. I could’ve talked to him. I didn’t have to worry all day and night about how to tell him. “You know what I think?” “What?” I asked, suspicious of his tone. “I think that you must have picked up something off the toilet seat on the plane on the way back from our vacation.” “What?” I laughed. “Isn’t that how women get pregnant? That’s it. No more vacations for you.” He said shaking his head. “Another toilet seat pregnancy.” I tried to push him onto my couch. He only half struggled, then grabbed me. “I want to know.” He said, pretending intensity. “What?” “Did he look like me?” “You’ve got to be kidding…” We collapsed onto the couch in fits of giggles. “Oh my god.” I laughed. “How could you say that?” “How do you know that my kid didn’t just have a bloody nose? Maybe he’s still in there!” He laughed, letting his hands start creeping ever closer. “No.” I laughed, grabbing his hand. “He’s gone. I’m sure of it. He had a look around in there. Saw all of my allergies and all of your allergies and decided that he didn’t want to live his life inside a gas mask.” Our laughter died down. “You know what this means?” He asked. “What?” I asked, suspicious of his tone. “It means that we need a new method of birth control.” I laughed. “You know. For a slow guy, you think fast.” He was quiet for a while. “Do you think that there is a restaurant around here that offers up a vasectomy for dessert?” “Yes.” I said. “I saw one advertised. They offer it as a prize for eating all of your dinner. And if you don’t cry during the operation, then you get free apple pie for dessert.” “Let’s go there.” I snuggled into him. He looked into my eyes and wrapped his arms around me. “What happened? Tell me everything.” I relaxed. “It wasn’t that bad. I was in the shower when it started. It didn’t last that long. I thought the drain in the tub would clog up. It was the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me.” “Stranger than meeting me?” “Yes. Even stranger than that.” I laughed. “Wish I could’ve been there.” He said, pulling me into a long hug. ------------ About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
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