Chapter 9

Kailee

T he waiter sets down the saltines I requested, and Lorelei shakes her head. "Still not feeling well?"

I reach for the packets and ignore the salad in front of me that sounded good at the time. "I want to die. I want to positively die. In fact, I may just faceplant right here in this salad. Has anyone ever passed away from this?"

"Pregnancy or morning sickness?" Lorelei asks, biting her lip. "Because with pregnancy, the United States has one of the worst maternal death rates of all developed countries. Morning sickness? I'm not so sure about the death rate, but I remember reading of a few celebrities that had it terribly."

I roll my shoulders and glare at my best friend. "Thanks for the info on my impending death. While I wait for the end, maybe I'll call my buddies in the Hollywood realm and get some puke tips."

Lorelei's normally pink cheeks turn a beet red, and she frowns. "Yeah, I probably shouldn't have told you about the death thing. That's not helpful."

I shut my menu with a huff and jam a saltine in my mouth. "Fuck! This is horrible."

Lorelei smiles at the waiter when he comes to take our order, and she orders salmon with rice pilaf. When she mentions the salmon, I turn my head and cover my mouth with a napkin while angling for the nearby empty wine bucket by the table in case I need it. Thankfully, I don't.

"For you, ma'am?" the waiter asks, totally oblivious to my plight.

"Do you have chicken broth?"

His eyes crease together. "We have a chicken noodle soup as our soup of the day. It's that or potato cheese."

"Can you strain the noodles out?"

He frowns. "You want me to strain the noodles out of our chicken noodle soup?"

"And the chicken," I say, nodding.

He writes on his pad, probably something like strain the chicken for the nutso at table 5, and walks away, flipping his pad shut like I just asked him to make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Actually, that sounds good, and I raise my finger to get his attention. Unfortunately, he walks back to the kitchen and doesn't see.

"Have you told him?" Lorelei asks in a whisper.

"I just did. I said to strain the noodles and the chicken."

Lorelei blows out a breath so hard that it moves the wisps of hair around her face. "Chase, Kailee. Did you tell Chase you're pregnant?"

I slump in my seat like I'm a five-year-old being chastised for bad table manners. "I couldn't."

"What do you mean you couldn't?"

"I tried!" I practically yell. A couple nearby looks over and raises their eyebrows. Lorelei gives a slight wave. "I opened my mouth to tell him yesterday and almost barfed on him. It was all that was going to come out. Then, Leo came into the lounge."

"Fuck Leo. When Chase asks why you barfed, you just tell him. You just look up at him and say, ‘Chase, I'm pregnant with your kitchen counter child.' He'll hug you, and you fall into his arms. Knowing Chase, he'll fuss over you and protect you forever and ever." She puts her hands over her chest, positively gushing about her boyfriend's best friend. She only feels that way because Chase saved her beloved's life.

"Is that what you think will happen? I'm pretty sure it only works like that in books or movies. That's not real life."

Lorelei leans forward and drops her voice. "Have you decided what you're going to do? Are you having it? "

I shrug and look around the restaurant, blinking back tears. I really don't want to cry in front of her. "I don't know. I'm fifty-fifty now. There are moments when I think I could make this work, even if Chase doesn't want to be involved."

"He'd be involved. He'd stand by you and pay child support, even if you two don't work out. I know he would. He'd be involved and help with the baby." There's Lorelei with the hero worship again. God, why doesn't she just marry Liam and Chase?

"That's great, but just because a guy wants to be involved doesn't mean it'd be easy for anyone. I've gone over my bank statements, and nothing makes sense."

"Move in with him. He has a nice house with more than one bedroom."

I lean forward and drop my voice to her level. "I haven't told him yet. You don't know he'd just swing the door open and let me move in. There's also the impact on my body. It just feels wrong, you know?"

"You're sick. It happens, but it'll be better further along."

"I also don't want to regret anything if I get an abortion. But right now…I don't think I would. Regret it, I mean. I'm scared. My body hurts and rejects everything I eat, and this is the easy part. My mother had complications having me, nearly dying, and I'm scared of an emergency cesarean like she had. I live alone. I have no partner to help me recover. These are all real problems real women deal with in this situation, and I wish you'd stop making it out as being some fairy-tale ending for me."

Lorelei nods. She can't wait to have children. She's always talked about it. We've also talked about how I'm ambivalent to the idea, mostly because I didn't think I could have kids. I just thought, if I ever did magically get pregnant, it'd be after I've been married to a guy for five years, owned a sprawling house, and had more than eighty-five dollars in the bank. I thought I'd need fertility intervention if I ever really wanted a baby. I also said I'd be fine adopting a foster child or something someday. Childbirth scares me, my own mother not having the hip span for it. I'm built like her. She was strongly advised not to have more after me, and she didn't. I left an impression on her.

"What about help from some of those organizations that are always going on about keeping babies…" Her voice trails off and she leans forward.

I bite my lip, trying not to burst out laughing. "Ah, yes. I'm sure the meal train, a few packs of diapers, and a few prayers will do wonders for me. Then, they'll skip off, congratulating themselves for their two hours of counseling and a plastic donation bag full of their benevolence. Come on, Lorelei, you and I discussed it a couple years ago when the shit went down.

"They want babies to get here, and then mothers are on their own, left without money for diapers, formula, and childcare while she works, while everyone who wants the baby born so badly slinks off after clapping for themselves and donating a few bottles of formula. Hell, those same people scream about wanting food stamps and other benefits for mothers cut, and if I have this baby, I'll need the WIC. I'll need the government medical exchange they want to cut. I'll need the daycare subsidies while they'll tar and feather me for being a working mother or denigrate me for wanting the subsidies if I do work. They'll taunt me for not working if I can't afford to, calling me lazy and a welfare case. I'll need a lot more than a few meals, diapers, and directions to a food bank. They call us lazy for asking for help, then turn around with fake smiles and ask us why we didn't ask them for help. We're supposed to swoon over donated baby clothes the child will grow out of in weeks. Are they going to clothe my child all its life? Feed it forever? Where is the help for women like me? Women who are scared and broke? For fuck's sake, where is the help for the children in this? The same people want to cut free lunch for grade school children. What the actual fuck?

"I don't want to hear another word about their bullshit until the day comes that they actually do something more tangible to help mothers and children in crisis and actually push for policy that helps single mothers and doesn't hurt them. There's no help for women like me. Not real help, anyway. I don't give a flying fuck what they think until they stop smiling at women like me out of one side of the mouth while advocating and voting to cut all the things that will actually help me out of the other side. "

"Adoption?" Lorelei asks.

"You sound just like them. That doesn't help with complications. A woman's body still has to go through some hard shit. Pregnancy. Labor. Recovery. All of that was hard for my own mother, and with my medical history may be hard for me. And where the fuck is the mental health and emotional support for those mothers that give up a child only because they're poor? That's some fucked up shit, Lorelei. If they really cared one iota about babies, they'd help women who wouldn't normally give their babies up if they had money. They'd support preschool, daycare, and food benefits for the children that are already here." I wave my hands in front of my face and take a drink of my water. "I'll have to go to Illinois if I get an abortion. That means time off work and losing at least a day's pay. Maybe more. If I take the pill set, it would be better, but I just haven't researched it."

I put my head in my hands and lean over my place setting, blinking back tears. "I can't keep a single thought in my head. It's all over the place. Who do I call for help? What do I do? What do I even Google? I try researching what to do, Lorelei, but my hands shake so bad as I type the words. I feel like I'm losing my mind and in panic mode."

Lorelei straightens and pastes a smile on her face as the waiter puts our plates down in front of us. I intentionally don't look at Lorelei's fish, and I pick up my sad bowl of chicken broth and sip it, grimacing at the bland taste. That peanut butter and jelly sounds better and better. In fact, I lick my lips at the thought of it. If someone handed me a plate of expensive steak and a plate of peanut butter and jelly, I'd choose the latter right now.

"You're being stubborn not telling him," Lorelei says as soon as the waiter leaves. "He's the father. Also, he can help. He can help financially if you choose to have it. If you don't, he could also help with maybe paying for the abortion pills or any wages you miss. Maybe both and any travel expenses. He won't leave your ass out in the wind like some men do. I know you're scared, but he's a good guy, which is more than a lot of the women you mentioned have. So many women are alone in this. Alone and scared."

"I'm scared. I'm scared shitless." I tap my spoon on the bowl and blink to hold back tears. "And I'm pissed off, Lorelei. For every reason I just said. I know I'm not the only woman in the world dealing with this, and the world has made this decision harder for women. You'd think they wouldn't want birth control to go away, but a lot of them do. Not all, but enough to count. You'd think we'd have the best medical care in the world so I wouldn't be terrified of paying an outrageous hospital bill that's more than my annual salary, but we don't. You'd think we'd have paid maternity leave so women can establish breastfeeding and bond with their child, but we don't. As you mentioned, many men, some married and cheating on their wives in the first place, are the first to run away or even take their mistress to another state for an abortion while voting to take away my right to get it up the street in the next election cycle. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's hypocrisy, and those people are full of fantasy world shit while completely lacking empathy for anyone in my situation. They don't empathize because they need to feel superior or like they're saving the world. In reality, they're damning a woman or even girl to possible medical issues, birth trauma, postpartum issues, and possible lifetime poverty. No fucking thank you."

I stir the broth and drop my voice. It's not her fault. I'm not telling her anything she doesn't already know. "I know I need to tell him. It's just hard, you know? I'll get to it."

I'm breathing hard by now, but she lets me vent – knows I need this.

"You need to spend more time with him before you decide anything. It'll also give you a way to feel him out a bit."

"Do you want me to ask how many kids he wants on the first date before I barf in his lasagna?"

"Yes."

***

Lorelei drops me off, and I slink up the stairs to my apartment. Stairs. Fuck, if I have a c-section, I can't even get into my apartment unless I pay Mr. Michelson, the apartment maintenance guy, to carry me up the stairs. What am I going to do? Get piggyback rides?

Would Chase carry me up the stairs? Would he let me stay at his house if I have to have a surgical procedure that renders me incapable of climbing stairs, driving, or lifting anything heavier than my baby?

Something tells me he would.

I couldn't tell him at school today. This isn't a bomb you suddenly drop on someone at their place of work. I need to ease into this. In fact, I don't know if I'll tell him right away. I'm still wrapping my head around it. I'd like to tell him when I have a clear plan.

But Lorelei is right about one thing. I need to talk to him and establish a friendship, at the very least, with him. No more giving him a hard time. No more going out with Leo to make him jealous. The game has drastically changed, even if he doesn't know it yet.

Once inside my apartment, I slide my phone out of my pocket and punch in the numbers Lorelei gave me.

Text to Chase: Hi. It's Kailee. I got your number from Lorelei. Can we talk?

Dots.

More dots.

I glance at the stove clock, and dots have shown on my phone for a full four minutes. Is he writing his entire life story ?

I expect something along the lines of, "I was born in a small town by a river" when my phone finally dings with an incoming message.

Text from Chase: Sure.

Either he's the slowest typist in the world, or he typed and deleted a few versions of this.

Text to Chase : Want to hang out sometime?

Text from Chase : With me? What happened with not normally dating guys like me?

Text to Chase : I understand if I'm too late. I'll fuck off now.

Text from Chase : No!

Text to Chase : But you can't rub it in to Leo and Jeff. Got it?

Text from Chase : I can't tell Leo at all?

Text to Chase : Forget it.

Text from Chase : I'm kidding. Tell me where and when. I'll be there.

I look around my living room, wondering how different it's going to look in another year. Will it be full of baby toys if I can afford them? I stare at my phone. I bet Chase would be the kind of dad who'd buy his kid every toy and enjoy going to the toy store.

Text to Chase : Do you know a place that serves peanut butter and jelly?