Just Like That

40. "sorry for knocking her up"

Grayson Reid Jansen

   "Gray?" Brea called me over to the door where she was standing after someone knocked on it.

We weren't expecting anyone so I thought it was just a Jehova's Witness or some kid selling something.

"Yeah?" I shouted back as I stood from the couch and adjusted my clothes.

Pulling my shirt back on, I approached Brea so she could open the door.

You've gotta be shitting me, I thought.

It was Bethany. She was standing there looking traumatized, eyes wide as she held her stomach like it was hurting.

"Now isn't a good time." I said to Bethany as I wrapped my arm around Brea's waist.

"I think it is. Can I come in?" She insisted, and for some unknown reason, Brea let her inside.

Pulling Brea into a corner, I whisper-yelled,"Do you think this is a good idea, she's crazy?"

With a straight face, Brea made up her mind. "I wanna hear what she has to say." I sucked my teeth at that and trailed solemnly behind my girlfriend.

Bethany looked around and dusted off the cushion before sitting on the couch.

Brea and I stared her down as we waited for the news.

"Aren't you going to offer me a snack or beverage-"

"No. What do you want?" I urged, annoyed.

Bethany cleared her throat and dug inside of her purse. "I'm pregnant." She lied, handing over a sonogram. She had to be lying there was no way—

It was real. There was a real fucking sonogram in my hands from Bethany Price.

"Only, I don't know who the father is, yet but it could only be you or Jared."

Before I could even form my own thoughts on this news, I saw the look on Brea's face. She was trying to hold it together and stay neutral but she was absolutely disgusted with me. I stepped away to give her space before she lashed out but it's what I deserved.

"We'll get a DNA test next week when the baby is eight weeks, just to be safe. I'll text you the details. Bethany spoke and stood to leave. When she passed Brea, Bethany opened her mouth as if to say something but just hesitated instead and left out with a hung head.

What was I going to say to Brea: sorry for knocking her up? No. What do you say in that situation? We were already on thin ice and I had just got her back in my good graces. There was no coming back from this one, I already knew.

"Well I guess that answers my question." Brea sneered, staring blankly ahead of her.

"You're a real piece of shit. If it wasn't clear before, I really fucking hate you." Brea then went to the bedroom. For a few minutes, I gave her space but she was too quiet so I went to check on her.

"What're you doing, Brea? Can't we talk about this," I found myself begging.

"All you need to talk about is potential baby names with Bethany. You think it's a boy or a girl?"

I watched as Brea paced from the closet to her suitcase, more clothes in her hand each time.
She gently laid them out and folded them into the suitcase.

"Okay, are you going to kill me or what because you are way too calm right now?"

She stopped what she was doing and let out a sigh. "I'm just done. This is tiring, don't you think?"

"Breanna Michelle, can you let me explain? I didn't want to be with her, I told her to leave me alone, okay? She came onto me the night my mom died-"

"So she took advantage of you?"

"No. She-"

"She made you do it?"

"No, Brea, damn. I know nothing I say will matter-"

"So save your breath. I don't even know why I'm mad, this is a joke right - our relationship?"

"If this is such a joke, why do you care so much?"

"I wouldn't lie about loving you, I've always loved you."

"You just said you hate me."

"I do. Y-you, ugh! You do dumb shit, Grayson, and you drive me crazy. I'm done."

"With us?"

"I don't know yet."

She made valid points. It was my fault. All of it, everything I've done since we met.

"Where are you gonna go?"

Brea zipped her suitcase and slid it off of the bed. She took a deep breath and hunched her shoulders as she neared the exit.

"Call me if this baby isn't yours. If it is, then congrats." Brea whimpered.

I started pacing and thought about how this was even possible. Sure condoms aren't one-hundred percent effective but— what if this was a setup?

"I think Bethany did this on purpose." I said out loud.

Brea stopped in her tracks and gasped loudly.

"Fuck." Brea cursed.

"What?" I asked, concerned.

"I have to tell you something. Oh my God. Fuck, I'm so sorry." She sat me down on the bed and bit her nail - something she doesn't normally do.

Not going to lie, I grew kind of nervous. I'd never seen Brea so pale before. She swallowed and started stammering under her breath but it was nothing coherent.

Avoiding eye contact, Brea confessed,"I did something bad."

My eyes widened with curiosity. "What is it?" I dared to ask.

Her breathing grew heavy and I swore I saw her start to sweat.
Closing her eyes tight, she let go of my clammy hand and admitted something that took me aback. "This is my fault. A couple months ago, I poked holes in your condoms after I found them in the washer—"

I stood with a quickness and looked down at Brea, almost in disbelief.

This didn't make sense. She had to be lying, there's no way.

"—I had just found out I couldn't get pregnant and I kind of had a feeling you were cheating so I did it and figured, we could keep trying to get pregnant and if not, if you were cheating, then someone else would wind up pregnant and prove.. that.. you cheated."

I wanted to yell and cuss her out, really. I mean who the fuck does that? The logic was completely off, I couldn't even feel bad for her.

Like Brea said, though, the arguing got tiring.

I picked up Brea'a suitcase from the floor, handed it to her and held the door open so it wouldn't hit her on the way out.