We sat on the couch for some time after that. After I had cried all my tears until I was dry. Karlie was patient. I felt miserable. Once I seemed to have stabilized, she started asking questions.
"Did you know?"
I shook my head no in reply. My gaze was a blank stare across my New York apartment living room. Her second question made me cringe inside.
"Does Harry know?"
No reply.
"I mean it is his child right?"
I was too emotionally exhausted to be annoying by what could have been a slut-shame. I just nodded my head slightly.
"I think you should tell him Taylor."
My fuse of frustration and anger was then lit. I wast as upset and I quickly lost my cool.
"Tell him?" I lashed back.
"Then what? He dumps my ass? If only it was that simple!"
I buried my face within the palms of my hands. I felt tears welling up again.
"Karlie I'm not married, not even engaged! I can't have this baby? This could destroy our relationship. It's already going to destroy my reputation in the public. Single mom? Psh this is not how I wanted to be shamed in the public eye. Harry can't commit. He never really has. He'll break up with me."
The endless flow of tears remerged. I was given another sympathy hug. More tears.
"We don't know that. You don't know that. Just because he hasn't purposed doesn't mean he can't be a father." She attempted to reassure me once again.
"He's too young." I said more to myself than her. The words came out in a whisper a silent cry. I refused to find the positive in the situation. Instead scenarios of Harry breaking up with me, the media bashing me, and feelings of neglect consumed my mind.
"I think it's going to be okay." Karlie stated.
"I'll take care of you, if anything."
I gave a weak smile in her direction.
That night I laid in bed on my back, too afraid to sleep on stomach.. as if I could crush it..
This isn't how it's suppose to be.
I whispered aloud. I was alone, in a bed too big, the vastness of this hidden secret to much to keep to myself. Confining in Karlie was thing. Anyone else, well that would be hard. The logical next step would be of course Harry. But I was afraid. I feared him in a way I never could imagine. All of sudden he seemed to be too good too big for me. He tell me off in mocking disapproval. Yes disapproval. He will not want anything to do with this, with me.. The events of the last few months played through my head as if a movie montage. Visions of our days spent together added up in the dozens. Through these memories I searched for something deeper. It was a collection of loose articles. I searched for a hint of love, not lust, commitment rather than enjoyment. Did Harry really love me? Could he commit to something like this? Never once was there ever a hint to his proposal... Did he even plan on it? Did he even vision a life where his future was me? Another sharp pain hit. He was so young. He was currently 21. Just a new adult. I thought of what it was like when I was that age nearly five years ago. If I think I can't handle a child now imagine what I would have done then. I was taken back to the night I swear the problem first occurred. If only I hadn't come to Rhode Islands. I was almost sure that night we fucked was the one. I replied the events the fact that I didn't guess our lack of protection, what was I thinking? Tears began to stream down my face for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. I had gotten so lost in our lust for each other, for company. I never thought to be conscious of the weight of our actions. Sex before marriage. Some would go as far as to call it a crime, a sin. And of course I was paying its ransom. I laid awake for hours contemplating the measure of his love. Oh God I hoped it was love. I could bring myself to tell him. I just could not. I was too afraid for the response. The goodbye. The anger, the disappointment.
It was 3am when the second thought flooded my mind. Fuck I was going to have to tell my parents. They were one of those people I talked of earlier. The ones who still did not know me and Harry shared in intercourse because they would be mad of me. More disappointment, more disapproval. My heart truly sank when I pictured what they would say. Would they be ashamed? It was then around 5:30am. I spent the rest of the morning on the bathroom floor. Puking my guts. With each disgusting hurl another wave of disappointment. What was going to become of this?
