Sage

10

My first appointment was extremely underwhelming. The doctors all flowed in and out of the waiting area, blankly calling last names until they got to mine, and Jenny gave me an excited grin as we stood and made our way to the room.

All they did was take a urine sample to confirm the pregnancy (telling me that I was six weeks), and instruct me to the front desk to schedule an ultrasound if I wanted one for my nine-week mark since they can't see or hear the baby at this size.

Altogether, the visit was about ten minutes.

This was two weeks ago. I hadn't heard a word from Harry since.

His reaction told me well enough that he had no intentions of being in me or my baby's life, but it didn't really sink in until the third day had gone by and there was nothing but silence from him.

After seeing what he did for a living, I occasionally googled his name. More times than I'd like to admit. He kept his appearance. There were candid shots of him entering the large building, captions insinuating that he's producing the next big artist. Who fucking cares. It seemed that nobody knew or gave a shit that he had a child on the way who he couldn't give less of a fuck about. And as much as that angered me, it hurt me.

Jenny and Niall had gone back to work. I didn't bother putting my two weeks notice, just collecting my last check and sending a quick email to Yael, who had yet to respond but didn't seem to notice I hadn't been clocking in.

After hours of searching on job finding websites, I was called back by a nursing home a few minutes away from the apartment. The hours were short, only twenty a week, but it was all they had to offer and despite my continuous calls and applications, it was the only place that called me back.

And it wasn't too bad. Though the checks were shitty, not being nearly enough to cover my apartment rent once the money Harry gave me ran out, the job was calm.

My favorite part was the two hours between breakfast and rec time, where all of the residents would hang out in the mess hall whilst chatting amongst themselves, and I found my hands gravitating to the large grand piano.

I didn't learn to play much, only the basic songs my father had taught me; Celine Dion, John Legend, Bruno Mars. I did know an Elvis song that seemed to be a favorite, specifically requested by Carol each time she saw me make my way to the instrument.

"I'm not playing Elvis again, Ms. Carol," I dully tell her, throwing a teasing smirk in her direction when she rolls her eyes, using her walker to push herself toward me. Carol was a little fragile thing with way too much attitude for her aging body.

"My family pays you great money to play!"

"Your family pays Wickshire to keep you alive," I correct, adjusting myself as twelve or so residents take note of what I'm doing and follow suit. "I'll play it tomorrow. Hugo wanted Celine. Right, Hugo?"

The nearly seven-foot man sits down in a chair, nodding as he grins, "Celine," He repeats, his wording slow and voice raspy. If you asked him, she was his wife some years ago before she married René Angélil. Hugo vividly remembers when Celine called him crawling back after René passed away and how he regrettably declined. "But the love is always there," He'd say.

My days were like this for the most part. I'd clock in around nine and immediately help get the residents ready for breakfast. This wasn't too hard unless my stomach was feeling queasy, which didn't happen much now that I took my nausea medicine and prenatal vitamins. By the time they had finished eating, it'd be going on 11. I'd play the piano right up into it was time to leave, helping get them ready for lunch and clocking out.