Uncomplicated 3.8: The town harlot

     I get woozy from the simple act of raising my arms to hang up the laundry. What is WRONG with me lately? It's like I've...
     Then, it hits me, hits me hard like a wrecking ball coming in and shattering the structure of my life into little pieces.
     I'm pregnant.
     Taking deep breaths, I back up to lean against the house, my carefully-designed life falling down around my ears. Another baby in our lives, another child in the tiny house. Even though she has no right to talk, Bonnie is going to kill me.
      What will Luke say? I bite my knuckle. Luke is a great fella, really sweet and a fantastic lover, but we don't see eye-to-eye on many things. He thinks I'm nuts to live out here on this farm, and he teases me about it, albeit in a good-natured way. I've never seen myself in a lasting relationship with him.
      But now... Now, I'm pregnant with his child. I have to tell him tonight at the party.

     "You're what?!" Luke gasps when I'm able to corner him in his kitchen during the party.
     "I'm pregnant," I repeat.
     "What? You're...? How did...?"
     "Oh, come on, Luke. You know perfectly well how this happened," I say, the sass flying out of my mouth like sparks from a firework.
      "I meant how did you find out?" he asks.

    "The old-fashioned way: I put all my symptoms together. All of them," I tell him. I don't want to snap at him, but it's not easy.
     "Have you been to see a doctor?" he asks carefully.
     "You mean let some leech-loving quack poke and prod me to death? No. Would you like the full list of how I know for sure I am? Let's see... Well, I'm late for one; that's a big clue. I'm sensitive, physically in some ways and emotionally in a lot of ways. I get dizzy much easier than before. I've been convinced I was coming down with a stomach virus, but that hasn't been the case. I've been going to the bathroom-"

     "Okay!" he quickly interrupts me, holding up his hand. "So you are." His hand moves to cover his eyes like he wants to hide from reality. I can sympathize.

     "Okay," he repeats, but this time it's like he's made a decision, "it's like this, Anastasia. You and me - we work well together but that's only if we meet on neutral ground. I care about you, but I'm sorry if I'm not in love with you. And I don't agree with the notion that people should get married just because they have a kid together. I don't want your lifestyle, and my life is too dangerous to throw a child into the mix."
     I stand here and quietly listen to him. Did I expect him to propose? I realize I didn't. I just wanted to know what he thought. I guess I hoped for advice and guidance on what I should do.
     "I understand," I tell him simply.
     He swallows, and a look of pain crosses his face. "Do you?" he asks, and I nod. "I mean, I'll provide financial support, but I can't bring a child into my life. I'm sorry."
     "Okay," I whisper.

     Out walks the father of my unborn child. I exit the house via the door in the kitchen, not wanting to go out the front.
      I still don't know what I'd hoped to get out of that. I know Luke and I wouldn't work well together. Did I hope that he'd change, or try to, to fit into my life just because? Maybe I did.

     The next day, I go about in a daze, worrying about what's going to happen. I'd told Bonnie this morning, and she hit the roof. I snapped at her that she shouldn't be so hypocritical. She left, telling me she was going to take her and Serenity and stay at Dad's for a few days. I wonder to myself if she'll ever come back.
     The evening comes, and I hear a car. Oh yeah. Edward.

     I come outside to find him sitting on the bench in the garden, so I go have a seat next to him. We sit in bad lighting, making our eyes look terrible.
     At first, he smiles at me and says hello, but he quickly catches my somber mood. "Something's wrong," he states.
     "Yes. Something is indeed wrong," I reply. I take a breath and decide to just tell him. "I'm pregnant."
     He breathes in sharply, and his eyes widen as he looks at me. His eyebrows slowly start coming together, and that look like someone has died fills his eyes more than ever.
     I can't bear it, so I quickly apologize and stand up, intending to dash into the house to cry where he can't see me.

     He leaps out of his seat. "Ana, stop!" His arms come up and hold my shoulders, and I can't keep back my tears anymore.
     "I'm such a fool! Everything your sister ever said about me is true! And this just proves it!" My sobbing makes it impossible for me to speak more, so I stop trying for a little while, letting out the tears I've held in until this moment.
      Edward whispers, "Stop. Please." He says it like he's begging me to stop crying because it hurts him to hear it. That just makes me cry harder. "Is it Luke's?" he asks, pain in his voice.
      "Uh huh," I reply in the affirmative. "And he said... He said he couldn't... that he couldn't have a child in his life. ... He didn't mean it in a mean way, I don't think. ... He just said it like it was a fact."
      As I talk, Edward starts petting my head in a vain effort to calm me down.
      "And Bonnie is so upset with me that she went to Dad's, and I've been all alone with my thoughts. My dad and mom called and said they'd help me however I needed it, that I could move back 'home' if I needed to, but I don't want to." More wails escape, forcing me to stop talking for a little bit.
      He takes this moment to speak quietly to me. "Ana, it's going to be okay. You're surrounded by people that love you."
      Something occurs to me. "You don't need to be around me, Edward. Now definitely, I'm bad news. If you're running for mayor, you don't need to associate yourself with the town harlot." I cry harder, hating myself and how I've let this happen.

     "Stop that right this instant!" he snaps, and I pull my hands away from my face. My breath comes in pathetic hiccups as he emphatically says, "Do you think for one minute that I care more about that than I do you?"
     "But... But... But it's true," I finally decide to use as my argument.
     "No, it isn't," he insists.
      But it is, I think as more tears fall from my closed eyes.

     One of his arms fully wraps around me, and he holds me very closely to him. Our eyes meet, and he reaches up to wipe my cheeks. "Ana, I..."
     Don't say it! Not right now, especially, I think, suspecting he's about to tell me how he feels. I'm afraid I'm in such a state that I'd ruin everything.
     He pauses, reading my eyes. Then, he looks like he alters what he wants to say. "I don't care what everyone else says."
     "But you should," I whisper.
     His eyebrows raise. "Then I'll throw right back at them that how is it wrong to help someone who needs it? How is it bad to be there for a friend when she really needs me? How is it right to scorn someone for a mistake, as if their hands are completely clean?"
     I throw my arms around him, crying and holding onto him like I would a floating log in a flash flood.

     He holds me just as close and croons, "It'll be okay. I'll make sure of it."

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