Unthinkable

My muscles ache as I haul the last of the heavy boxes up the stairs and into the semi vacant room, the smell of fresh paint still lingering in the cool October air that drifts in through the open window. I collapse into a tired heap at the base of what will eventually be a crib, my body slumped against the smooth cardboard that houses the unassembled wood frame. I cringe, knowing how sore my already achy body will be in a couple of hours, regretting my decision to move this all on my own when I’m not even supposed to be lifting.

In the month it’s been since I kicked Sidney out of my apartment, my body has betrayed the secret I was carefully guarding. My stomach has popped out into a round bump around my navel, a smooth contour surface that houses the kicks and flutters that stir within me. A place my hand over the solid part where I can feel the baby, a mass of bones and thin skin pressed up underneath my bellybutton, and gently run my fingers over the skin, watching in wonder as my motion is mimicked beneath, the baby’s limb flush against my skin, just visible. I laugh a little, marvelling in the miracle of it and pushing back to my feet, desperate to finish as much as I can before my exhaustion catches up with me and I have to curl up on the couch.

I begin pulling the cardboard covers from the framework of the crib, laying out all the pieces into a pile on the floor and rooting through the scraps for the illusive instructions. By the time I find them I realize I am no better of with them than I was without. Half of the instructions aren’t even in English and the diagrams are so poor that it’s hard to tell the stick people from the crib pieces. I sit back on the floor and sigh, feeling immensely out of my element and overwhelmed.

As I woman I pride myself on my independence, on my strict and unwavering ability to rely on myself and myself only. But I also am strong enough to realize when I am in over my head and when to ask for help. I contemplate who to call, wanting so badly for Sidney to be here and a part of this, but so afraid of his rejection again. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt and hoping beyond all belief that perhaps he changed his mind, I pick up my phone and hover my finger over his contact, silently thanking Pascal for sending me his number for instances just like this.

I take a breath and press my finger down, holding my phone against my ear before I can think too much about it and change my mind. It rings twice before his familiar voice answers.

“Hello?”

I try not to stutter from the fear that is suddenly gripping me, swallow and push the words from my mouth. “Sidney, hi.”

“Hey Blake.” He doesn’t sound irritated by the fact that I’m calling him which I take as a promising sign. “Everything okay?”

I start to nod before I remember that he can’t see me. “Oh um, yeah, everything’s fine. I just…I have something to ask you.”

His silence unnerves me as he ponders over my statement. “Sure, what’s up?”

I hesitate over how to phrase it. “I’m um…I’m just putting together the crib but I’m really struggling. I’m sorry to ask and I wouldn’t if I had anyone else to go to, but I was wondering if there was any way you could give me a hand?”

I can hear the static through the phone as his mind turns over the repercussions of what I’m asking, though in reality all I really want for the moment is help setting up.

“Blake,” his voice holds a warning tone of our previous conversations. “I can’t…I can’t be apart of anything, I told you this already.” Though his words are almost convincing, his tone is not. I can hear the indecision in every syllable he speaks.

“Sidney I’m not asking you to be a father right now. I promised you that this baby is yours. If that’s not enough, so be it. I can prove it eventually. But I’m a high risk pregnancy to begin with and I’m not supposed to be doing any of this. I did most of it anyways, I just really need some help.” I feel myself begin to chatter uncontrollably, a nervous habit I’ve never been able to shake. “My family, they’re all back in my hometown. I haven’t lived here long enough to make any real friends and, to be honest, even though you don’t believe me right now, you’re all that I have.”

I swallow my speech, hoping that I didn’t sound as desperate to his ears as I did to my own.

“Please say something,” I beg on the verge of tears.

“I’m so sorry,” He begins. “I wish I could explain it in a way that would hurt you less but I can’t. I just can’t have any part because if the baby isn’t mine, and I know that you swear that it is but if it turned out that it wasn’t, there’s no way that I could handle being so close to having a family and then have it taken away.”

I so badly want to be mad at him but all I feel is pity. Pity that he has to be so cautious over this whole scenario rather than getting to enjoy everything. “I’ll get you your DNA test,” I whisper, I don’t know if it’s to myself or to him.

“What?” I hear him mumble in my ear.

“I know that you want to be a part of this but I also understand why you need to know with certainty. So I’ll get you your DNA test. Before the baby is born.”

“But I thought you said…”

“I know what I said. But I’m scared and I’m alone. And if getting you this DNA test means that I have someone to go through this with then I’ll do it. I know how selfish that sounds but…”

“No, no,” he says hurriedly. “I understand why you want me there. And you should know that I want to be there for all the same reasons.”

“Well then it’s settled,” I say with finality. “Can you meet tomorrow?”

I think he’s surprised by the speed at which these events have been set into motion because he stumbles for a second before saying, “Yeah, tomorrow’s good.”

“I’ll text you the address of the clinic.” I can’t help the tone of slight defeat that creeps into my words.

“Okay, sure. And Blake?”

“Mhmm?”

“Thank you.”

I sigh. “See you tomorrow, Sidney.”

I sleep restlessly that night, torn by nightmares of deformed babies and Sidney, dressed in a suit and calling me a whore. I wake up sweating, realizing with a start that it’s fifteen minutes later than I was supposed to get up and I’m going to be cutting our appointment close. I shower and dress quickly and by the time I make it to the clinic, he’s already waiting for me.

His hat is pulled low over his eyes, presumably so the other patients don’t recognize him, and he looks good with his shirt a bit too small, clinging to the contours of his broad muscles, arms folded uncomfortably across his chest. By the time I hurry into the building and start walking towards him, the receptionist calls my name and he glances up to me, pushes himself from the chair and walks to my side, following the receptionist obediently down the stark white halls.

We’re just barely seated in the room and haven’t said two words to each other when the doctor enters, a middle aged woman with a soft demeanour and greying hair.

“Miss Easton, correct?”

I nod, nerves creeping in.

“And we’re here for a Prenatal DNA test?”

I nod again.

“We talked about all the risks with you Miss Easton on the phone last night when you called to make the appointment. Are you sure you want to continue today?”

Miscarriage. Amniotic fluid leak. Needle injury. RH sensitization. Infection. I had listened to them talk and talk about all of the risks involved and while it terrified me, I needed this to be over and I needed it to be over now.

“The baby will be okay though, won’t it?” Sidney asks from his chair in the corner.

“There’s risks posed with any procedure. Amniocentesis certainly carries risks with it, we’re drawing fluid out from the baby’s amniotic sac.”

She waits and when neither of us says a word she speaks again. “Do we want to continue with this procedure today?”

“Yes,” I say quickly, seeing Sidney’s resolve softening with every second. “Yes we do.”

“Alright,” she replies. “Lay back, shirt up.”

I do as instructed and am surprised when Sidney rises to stand next to me, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“This will probably hurt,” she warns, cleaning my skin with iodine then positioning the needle just above my bellybutton. With the ultrasound turned on to make sure she didn’t poke the baby, she gently guides the needle into my skin, puncturing through and into the sac.

I can’t help the gasp of pain that escapes my lips, a deep, burning sensation spreading throughout my abdomen. To my stark surprise, Sidney reaches out and clasps one of my hands in both of his, squeezing tightly to distract me from the pain. She withdraws the needle slowly, filling a vile with an almost clear liquid and capping it, placing a bandaid over the injection site.

“All done,” she says with an apologetic wink. “You next.”

She pulls a long cotton swab from a plastic tube, gestures for him to open his mouth and takes a sample, popping the swab back into the container and turning to us both.

“You’re all finished. I should have your results for you in a couple of days.”

“Thank you,” Sidney mumbles for both of us as she smiles and leaves the room. I am in too much pain to speak so he gently helps me from the table, the paper crinkling beneath me, and sets me upright again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks quietly, leading me out of the room and down the hall, his hand gently resting on the small of my back.

“I told you there were risks,” I defend.

“But you didn’t tell me how serious they were.” I can tell that he’s frustrated.

“Does it matter?” I counter. “It’s over now. In a couple of days you’ll have your answer.”

“Are you alright?” He asks as I stumble a little.

“Little dizzy,” I concede as the ground beneath me spins a little. I close my eyes to steady myself but instead feel a lurching sensation.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cries and I instantly feel his hands on my body, pulling me into the solid rock of his chest. “Maybe I should take you back inside to see the doctor.”

“I’m fine,” I mumble into his shirt, clinging onto the fabric like a lifeline, his strong arms wrapped securely around me, the only thing holding me up. I breathe in the scent of him, gentle cologne with a faint tinge of hockey underneath. A distinctly manly scent that floods my mind with memories.

“I don’t want you driving right now,” he admits. “I have to stop by the arena to pick a few things up. Why don’t you come with me and then maybe by the time I’m done you’ll feel a little better.”

I want to tell him to shove off and that I’m fine, if not faintly aggravated, but I’m too dizzy and tired to argue so instead I just nod against his chest and feel his hands guide me to the passenger seat of his car. I must fall asleep because the next time I open my eyes we’re pulling into the underground park of the Consol Energy Centre. It’s dark and quiet and hums with the lights overhead, easing my fuzzy head.

He walks around the car and opens my door for me, hanging onto my elbow as I extract myself from his car and steady myself. I let his hand hover protectively over me even though I’m feeling remarkably better now. We walk in silence to the Penguins locker room, somewhere I’ve never been before, and quickly find Dupuis in his workout gear toweling off the sweat from his face.

“Here to drop another bombshell?” He asks with a sarcastic quirk as Sidney leads me to his side.

“I’ll be right back. Got to talk to Coach for a second,” Sidney says to me as he leaves me with Pascal.

“Things going alright?” Dupuis asks with a more serious tone.

“Too early to tell,” I say cryptically, another wave of dizziness washing over me.

“Are you alright?” His voice immediately sounds concerned and my eyebrow kinks in response.

“Why?” I ask.

“You’re incredibly pale all the sudden and you’re swaying.”

His hands are on both of my arms, holding me upright as the room spins in sickening circles again.

“Blake!”

It takes me a moment to realize why he’s calling out to me, but the confusion is lifted when I open my eyes and realize that I am looking at the ceiling and somehow I have ended up on the floor, Dupuis’ concerned face peering over me.

“Get the doctor and get Crosby!”

I hear him shout to someone else in the room. I can see his face hovering above me, blurry and out of focus, his words drifting far off and distant sounding. I close my eyes and allow the sensation of heavy limbs to pull me further into the floor.

“What happened?” A new voice, startling familiar and filled with a sense of terror.
“I don’t know, she just collapsed.”

I am under water, my arms and legs floating on the rocking waves, my head cradled by the cool liquid.

“Blake!”

My name startles my eyes open and his face meets mine. I can see the fear radiating off of him but the ocean is calling me, beckoning me back to its cool depths, drawing me under into the sea of quiet calm. So I give in and sink, close my eyes and let the ocean engulf me.

Notes