A Pregnant Interlude.

 

Deb: What will Bill say?

I muttered this repeatedly on the way to the outside trash bin, carrying the treacherous little bit of plastic that spelled my doom.

Deb: What in hell will he say?

Elmore was playing computer games and listening to country music. He didn't look up from 'NASCAR Racing' something or other, but he was listening.

Elmore: Thunder roars, but lightnin' does the work, Ma.

Deb: Don't be quotin' that trash at me, Elmore.

I groaned, but the farther away from him I got the more apt I realized it was. He was bound to have something to say...what I needed to worry about was what he would do.

Elmore: Y’okay, Ma?

Deb: ‘Bout as okay as you can be when you’ve made yet another major mistake.

Elmore: Bill ain’t like he useta be, Ma. Jus’ tell ‘im.

Deb: I tell him this I’d best make sure I’m packed.

There was no reason to be coy. It was ill-becoming, and Strannix would have had my guts for garters.

Deb: I’m expecting.

Bill: What in hell?!

Deb: I know. It sucks. I'm sorry.

Bill: Weren't ya doin' anything?

Not a good plan, Billy.

Deb: And why is it solely my responsibility?

Bill: You're the one with the problem.

I faced him squarely.

Deb: Fuck you.

I left the room. I was seething.

Bill: Woman, don't walk away from me.

Deb: Then don't hand me that shit. You were happy enough to do the horizontal bop and go in bareback. I assumed you'd done something permanent.

Bill's bootheels hit the floor hard and he came after me like a freight train, catching me in the dining room. He spun me around to face him.

Bill: Fair shot, darlin'. I assumed the same thing. Guess we really got caught with our pants down. Now what?

I looked away and spent a minute or two watching Ryan attempt to assemble a redwood gym set out in the backyard. Mick and Nuala were swarming all over the construction site, Elmore was just ambling up to help. Would a small Strannix end up playing on that monstrosity? Good question. His voice was quiet.

Bill: Abortion?

Deb: Been there, done that. Not again… at least, not with this one.

He loomed over me.

Bill: Talk.

Deb: Remember, after Cole's little get-together, you guys took me to the hospital and they gave me the morning-after pill? Not more than five minutes or so after I swallowed it I got the dry heaves… I don't know if there was a connection or not, but by that time the Lubbock PD was coming in for a landing and I didn't get to mention it to the nurse. In the excitement, I guess I forgot. Anyhow, six weeks later I realized I had a souvenir. Elmore took three hundred out of petty cash and drove me to Amarillo, since we didn't know for sure who might find out.

Bill: That's what that was for?

He was referring to a voucher Elmore had put in petty cash, marked 'miscellaneous.' We had both stonewalled him when asked about it.

Deb: That's right.

Bill: Why didn't you say something?

Annapolis was grilling me. I was about to tell him he could forget the 'old boy' stooge act, but he was great fun. And it was an excellent way to know when Bill was serious.

Deb: Need to know basis, boy. You didn't.

Bill sat down in a chair, knees spread wide. He tugged me close and I stood between them.

Bill: How long were you going to hold this out on me?

Deb: I just figured it out, which is no excuse. There's been so much going on over the last three months or so that I only thought about it when Jade asked me not to let her forget supplies. Then I started thinking… and I realized I couldn't remember the last time but that it must have been while we were still in Texas…

Bill sighed.

Bill: Damn, you're just full of 'em.

Deb: Full of somethin'.

Bill: What if I don't want this? Ten years ago…

Deb: Ten years ago you'd have had a fit.

Bill: I'm fifty-three years old, baby. What'm I gonna do with a brat?

Annapolis had folded his tents and decamped. Billy was relaxing a little.

Deb: I don't freakin' know. You think I want to start over? My youngest is nearly a teenager, for shit's sake.

Bill: But you're doin it?

Deb: How many choices do you think I have?

He gave me a look. Bill didn't seem to know how to react, and I didn't know what to do with his confusion. Normally, he was a very decisive person, and I could base my own reactions on his. This was kinda scary.

Deb: Maybe I should just go to Kansas.

Bill: What in hell is in Kansas?

Deb: There's an abortion clinic in Wichita that does second trimester abortions. That's where I'm at right now. Maybe I should just--

Bill: I don’t think so.

Deb: Really?

It sounded almost confrontational.

Deb: Okay. You don't like my idea. What do you think?

He just stood there, staring at me. Thinking. It drove me nuts.

Deb: I'm askin' you, what do you want me to do?

Still no response. Still the preoccupied expression. No yelling. No threats. No posturing. Nothing that made me think Bill was in the room.

Deb: Oh, fuck it, I'll just deal with it myself.

I turned to walk outside. Maybe I could help Elmore and Ryan with the gym set. At least I could stand around and stoopervise.

Bill: Punk.

Deb: What?

I didn't bother to turn around. I just waited. He would speak when he was ready. When he finally did, his voice was as hushed as I'd ever heard it.

Bill: It's funny… for as many lives as I've taken, I've made one. And you're talkin' about endin' it.

Deb: I’m not talking about doing anything without your consent.

Bad word, but it's the only one that I could think of.

Deb: Besides, you were the one who suggested it. I know you don't talk about your feelings much, Bill, and I don't expect you to change, but I never expected to get pregnant, either, and I've gotta know what you want, or if you want anything at all.

Bill: Baby, I--

The phone rang abruptly, and he answered it in an impatient voice that I'd never heard him use before. He spoke briefly, then hung up.

Bill: Gotta go, girl.

I hid my dismay well. Who knew how long he'd be gone, and the longer I had to wait to know what his wishes were, the harder it would be to honor them. And I knew I was going to have to wait, because he was gearing up to leave, and he wouldn't talk about it anymore. Instead, I did what I always did.

Deb: I'll get your stuff.

 

TO BE CONTINUED…

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