Pretending to be Pregnant

Two

I sat on my bed, my head in my hands. How could he do this to me?

"Esme, are you okay?" I heard my mum shout through my wooden door. She sounded fairly concerned and in fairness, I wasn't that surprised.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just, erm, watching television!" I shouted back, slightly uncertain, whilst quickly reaching for the control for my television and switching it on, not even caring about the programme I was watching. Slowly, I placed my head back in my hands.

We were in love.

That was the one statement that was circling through my mind. And yet, he'd done this to me? Lifting my head up, I twirled a dark strand of hair around one of my slim, bony fingers, twisting it around. Ever since I had found out, I'd been trying to figure out the mistake I had made. What had I done to make him do such a hurtful, spiteful thing to myself? I'd been the perfect girlfriend. No. I was the perfect girlfriend. I wasn't clingy; I'd allowed him to spend time with his mates. I wasn't paranoid; never had I told him not to talk to another girl. Maybe that's where I went wrong? Maybe, just maybe, I should have allowed my jealousy to show. I sighed and dropped the lock of hair I was holding. Slowly, I made my way over to the sofa in my room, thinking about Ryan, the love of my life.

Ryan was eighteen years old; two years older than myself. He had the most gorgeous floppy brown hair that was as soft as feathers and brown tanned skin, inherited from his Australian parents. Ryan had been born in Australia and was your typical surfer dude. You know, the type of guy you see working in Hollister? Of course, all the girls, of every age, wanted Ryan. Although it was no surprise to anyone when he asked me out two years ago. I was, of course, one of the most popular girls in the school with rich parents, a home to die for and I was even fairly intellectual. However, a lot of people said that he had only asked me out in order to increase his own popularity, after moving from Australia to Gellerville High. Yet, two years on, we were still together and deeply in love. Or so I thought. He was a real gentleman, the sort of guy who offered you his jacket when you were cold. And, a week before Christmas, he had booked for us to go to New York. A real romantic getaway!

As I sat there, thinking about Ryan, I felt a small tear trickling down my cheek. Diana's words echoed through my head.

He cheated. He cheated. He cheated.

Not only that, but rumour had it he was moving back to Australia. Moving back to Australia with that cow, Tiffany. Tiffany had been after him for years. She was a stupid blond with a massive chest and bad grades. She had about as much knowledge as a kid in Kindergarten. And Ryan, who I thought had standards, had kissed her at a party. Kissed her and told her he wanted her to move back to Australia with him. I screamed, throwing a deep purple pillow off my sofa at the cream wall.

"Stupid." I shouted at the wall.

"Please, don't leave. You can't leave. I'm pregnant." A voice from the television screeched. Slowly, I turned towards the screen. A red haired girl, with tears streaming down her face, was desperately tugging at the sleeve of a dark haired man. The programme, I recognised. I had watched a couple of episodes once with Ryan when I had been ill. Throwing up everywhere. Yet, Ryan had stayed with me, watching cheesy films and holding my hair back while I desperately clutched at the toilet seat and spilled my guts out. I turned back to the television. The red haired girl was now in the arms of the dark haired man as she begged him not to leave.

"I won't." He whispered into her flame red hair. All of a sudden, inspiration struck. Ryan had not yet told me his was leaving. But he'd kissed Tiffany. What we needed, was something to hold us together. Something that would mentally, and physically, bind us together like glue. And that something, was staring me right in the face. We needed a baby.

I was sixteen, but even though I wasn't a virgin, I was almost certain that I wasn't pregnant. Ryan and I were incredibly careful when it came to intercourse. Both of us had bright futures and even though we had promised to be together forever, we wanted to make sure we still had options. Options which were bound to be limited with the arrival of a new life. I sighed, realising I would have to stop taking my pill without Ryan knowing. But even so, I knew that it might already be too late. Already, he could have made the decision to leave me. A stifled a cry of anguish and rocked back and forth on the sofa, just thinking. Then, as if struck by lightning, a thought shook my body.

I could pretend to be pregnant.

Yes, I could pretend to be pregnant and hopefully, within the next month, I would get pregnant. I knew it was the perfect solution because previously we had had this discussion. What would we do if we had a baby? He had promised me he would stay. Never would he allow his child to grow up without a father.

I gradually got up off the sofa and made my way towards my bathroom cabinet, before quickly disposing of the little pink packet of pills. There was no going back now. Shaking, I looked at myself in the mirror. 

Tomorrow I would tell Ryan.

Tomorrow this situation would be all the more real.

Tomorrow, everyone except myself, would know that I.... that I was pregnant.