Preg-Not

11

"The number you are trying to teach is..."

Raelynn groaned. The call failed again because the number Viktor gave her was disconnected. That job offering was locked away in that prestigious, unreachable building.

She wasn't sure if Viktor did this on purpose. The guy was hard to read, and as dangerous as his brother. He did mention that he was flying out of the country, so Raelynn knew that searching for him would be useless. She didn't have enough resources. Only pleading lips, a desperate heart, and two swollen feet.

She sat down on the loveseat and stared at her lap– well, at least tried to. It was hard to see over the huge bump on her abdomen. She was five months now; her condition undeniable. Every time she stepped on the train, someone got up and offered her a seat. The first time it happened, she was startled, expecting Maksim to pop out of a corner.

Time flew by fast. Her secret now screamed to be acknowledged by the world, and she could no longer suffocate its roar.

The pregnancy was emotionally and physically draining. Tiff was there for her, though. She took her shopping on sales, drove her to appointments, and picked her up from her shifts at the supermarket so she didn't have to walk home with swollen feet. Raelynn couldn't be more thankful to have her.

Her online store was fairing well, so she was able to pay Tiff a share of rent every month, and use the rest for her debts and savings.

"Any luck?" Tiffany asked the second she unlocked the door and found her seated. It was a ritual at that point.

"None."

"I think its time to reconsider other options, Rae."

"What other options? This was the only one I had," she sighed. "I was supposed to reach Maksim through this job."

"Honey, you've gotten so big that a blind man can see you're pregnant. If you want Maksim to hear you out, you'll have to stand in front of his building and let your bump do the talking for you."

"But if he sees it, he'll send me to the courts. He won't listen. He'll just want custody."

Tiffany scratched her hair. "So, what if you somehow manage to hide the bump, talk to him, and explain yourself? What if he forgives you but decides to not abandon his gambling?"

Raelynn feared that scenario. She was terrified of Maksim choosing the mafia over her and the pregnancy.

"Then we go separate ways," she whispered. "We co-parent, separately."

Tiffany chewed her bottom lip, before finally releasing the burning question she held back for months. "Is gambling that bad? I know it's illegal and he might get tossed in prison, but he might not? It's not like he's killing people."

The mafia entertained gambling along with many other horrors. Raelynn accepted long ago that she couldn't live in a world of violence, or introduce a child to it. When she stood over her father's coffin, she tossed down a flower and a vow. She swore to live a clean life. Perhaps it would be boring, but it would be safe. There would be no more heart-wrenching loss, no guilt that she fell back into the world of gangs and mafias.

Although she wasn't perfect, she deserved peace.

Seeing her eyes watered, Tiffany kneeled and hugged her tight.

Lately, her hormones made her cry at the flip of a switch.

Fearing that she would be an awful mother? Crying

Feeling guilty that Tiffany was stuck with her? Crying

Saw a child with two parents? Crying

Her pants no longer fit? Crying

The psychiatrist that was seeing her for her PTSD ran through a store of Kleenex tissues thanks to her.

"Come on, let's eat some ice cream."

Raelynn sniffled over strawberry ice cream. When Tiffany presented a onesie, Raelynn's mood made a turn for the better. She loved going baby shopping. The tiny socks, cartoons, and baby lotions were so cute.

Tiffany spread out the onesie on her round belly and pulled up her phone.

"No. I look horrible!"

"Hush and smile, woman."

Raelynn caved. She smiled brightly, because although she was in a load of trouble, she was genuinely excited about motherhood. She even started a college fund. There were only seven dollars in it so far, but it made her proud because it was slowly but surely growing.

Turning to the crumpled piece of paper, she picked up the house phone and dialed the number again. It was still disconnected.

"Put that thing away!" Tiffany settled by her side and snuggled into her bump.

"You need to get a boyfriend, Tiff."

"No. You need to give birth already so I can snuggle with someone else."

The house phone went off.

Russia, the caller ID said.

She picked up the call in a heartbeat.

"You messed up," Viktor grunted.

"I couldn't reach you, or the contact. I was hoping you would call me earlier, since your men, you know..."

"They are only supposed to report to me if you did anything risky or suspicious. I heard nothing, so I figured you settled into the job. You have ruined this for yourself. Time has run out."

"What? No. I haven't spoken with Maksim yet."

Hearing the panic in her voice, Tiffany rubbed the small of her back.

"If you speak with Maksim, the first thing he will see is your abdomen."

"I know! Can't you get him on the phone with me, please? Or deliver a letter for me?"

"Maksim is not on speaking terms with me. Even if he was, I doubt he would accept communication with you. You're on your own. This was an idiotic idea."

"Wait!" Rae raised a hand, although he couldn't see her. "Just... wait."

"You're many months pregnant. There is no need to get you a position at the firm if you can't hide the pregnancy."

Her frantic eyes scanned her bedroom. The guinea pig full of quarters she planned on adding to the college fund was on the nightstand, baby clothes were gently folded inside a crib she painted by hand, a notebook of scribbled baby-name ideas were beside her coat.

Her coat. The puffy thing that was hanging on by a thread.

"Winter is coming. I'll just hide under some clothes."

"You are joking."

"No. It'll look like I just gained weight. I'll be careful."

"Pathetic," Viktor spat. "Five months and you have done nothing. Poor assets, poor credit, poor mental health, poor criminal record. You will be a poor mother, too. God knows what Maksim saw in you."

She already knew all those things, but that didn't stop her self-esteem from shriveling up some more. She pulled her knees up and curled into herself in a protective motion.

"It's a boy."

Viktor didn't reply.

"I'm thinking of giving him a Russian name. I've been playing Russian music for him every night, even when he was a nugget. He likes it. Sometimes he wakes me up with kicks, and won't settle until I play music for him. He's so in-touch with the world that it amazes me. I can't wait to have him with me. I lose people a lot. Sometimes because they're taken, sometimes because I push them out because of fear. I act with my heart, not with my head, and that gets me in trouble more often than not. I joined a gang because of teenage angst and ruined my life, then dumped my soulmate because I was afraid I'd chose him over my promises. Acting with my heart has never been much of an asset until now. I love my son, and I will make the world burn to protect him."

Viktor breathed heavily into the phone. It took him a minute to say, "they will call you tomorrow. Don't mess up this time."