to think about this. You can’t let him influence you either way. This has to be your decision, Mirella.”
The little excursion with Gwen has really shaken me. It has made everything seem so real. Up until now, I had been living in a kind of bubble, where things weren’t quite concrete, where I was waiting for my pregnancy to spontaneously end, all on its own. But the baby is real and alive, its little heart beating fast.
All I’ve been thinking about is whether I should tell Gabe and Weston. Who should I tell first? And when?
I’ve decided to wait until I’m twelve weeks along. Then, I’ll tell Gabe first — tell him I’m carrying Weston’s child, and plan to keep it. I know this will be the end of us, of our family as we know it. We’ll separate and have to share custody of the girls. He’ll want to move out and I’ll be a complete mess. Perhaps we’ll do the ‘week on, week off’ arrangement. I’ll still see the girls every day at school and I’ll long to take them home with me every night. Or maybe he’ll just want to see them every other weekend, and they’ll miss him terribly and feel like their daddy doesn’t love them, but I highly doubt that. We’ll argue about who gets them for the holidays — he’ll insist on having them for Christmas. I will obviously no longer be spending Christmas at Gabe’s parents. Where will the baby and I spend Christmas?
And soon enough, he’ll have someone new in his life. How could he not, a looker like him. The women will probably line up.
And it’s going to kill me seeing him with someone else. Someone else living my life. And with my luck, she’ll probably be about twenty-five and annoyingly bubbly.
And Weston…I have no idea how he’ll react when I tell him. Will he insist I have an abortion? I won’t do it no matter what. I love this child. He’ll be livid. He’ll go crazy I’m sure. He’s always been so preoccupied and concerned with the thought of a possible pregnancy. I wonder if he’ll choose to not be part of the child’s life. I know he’ll support us financially and we’ll never want for anything. But will we have his love?
I really don’t know.
When I get to thinking about these things too much, over a cup of tea, or watching the girls play at the park, at night in bed, I close my eyes and go to another place. A time when my life was so simple, back to a few years ago, when Gabe and I and the girls, Claire only a toddler still, went to camp in Michigan. All we had was a tent, a couple of sleeping bags and pillows, and a portable barbecue.
And that’s all we needed.
CHAPTER FIVE
…it’s been so long.
The girls trail behind me as I make my way down the aisles, shoving items into my cart: cereals boxes, jam, peanut butter…
Claire holds a giant box of that sugary cereal she loves. “Mommy, Mommy, this one.”
“Uh, put that back, Claire,” I snap as I grab the smaller box off the top shelf. “This one is big enough.”
The girls manage to get me to buy a few not-so-good-for-you items I would have otherwise left on the shelves.
When I make my way to the pharmacy, I grab a bottle of prenatal vitamins and bury it under other items, careful to not let Chloe see. I’ve poured the contents of my last bottle into my regular women’s vitamins bottle. When I do these kinds of things, I feel like such a treacherous, cheating witch. I hate having secrets. This is not me, I keep reminding myself.
The line at the cash register is not too long, and the process not too headache-inducing. The girls beg for a last-minute chocolate bar.
“No way,” I tell them. “Don’t you know they specifically put these here for little kids to bug their parents to buy them?” I add. “You’re falling right into their trap.”
The cashier laughs. “And it also works for women on diets. They fall right off the wagon.”
I laugh, relishing this small moment of happiness. My life is normal enough, but only in sporadic fleeting moments.
As we head back to the car, I spot this grey sedan. There’s nothing special about it, but I’ve seen it before. And I recognize the driver — a man in his thirties or so, clean cut, sporting aviator glasses. I know this