Charlie called every other day, just to check in and see how Sampson was, at least that's what he told me. I knew he was worried but I secretly thanked him for not making a big deal about this. Overall I felt comfortable at the cabin, well, as comfortable as you can when your heart is shattered.
"I think we should talk about Lucas," Charlie said a few days after I arrived. "You should probably talk about what happened, it will make you feel better."
"I don't want to talk about Lucas," I sounded lost, even though I tried to sound like I had my shit together. "Please don't do this, I came here to get away from him."
"Alright sweetheart," he said in the soothing voice I appreciated more than anything. "I won't bring him up again. Or your mother, who's looking for you."
"God, whatever you do, don't tell her where I am, she'll come beat down the door to make sure I'm alright."
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Maybe," I sighed. "Probably," another sigh. "I don't know." That last part was a strangled sob which I tried and failed to recover from. "I'll be fine Charlie, I just need some time to work things out in my head."
"Alright, alright." It was his turn to sigh and when he came back I heard a smile in his voice. "I'm not going to come and beat down the door, but I am going to send Sampson a care package. You left his favourite toys behind."
"So that's why he's been looking so forlorn," I said.
"Has nothing to do with your crying, I'm sure." We both smiled at that. "Ok, be kind to yourself Chicken, and try to eat healthy."
"I will Charlie, thank you."
"Anytime love, anytime."
The next day both Sampson and I were excited to open the massive box that had been delivered overnight by our knight in shining armour. He'd gone all out, four dog toys for Sampson, who was beside himself with joy. Two tubs of my favourite ice cream, microwave popcorn, microwave dinners - of the pseudo healthy variety. The latest book by my favourite author, two dvd's, six CDs, and a new cell phone.
I sat on the floor looking at that last one for about an hour, wondering if I should bother turning it on. Part of me prayed that he would be calling me, the other part of me didn't want to know if he wasn't. In the end, I spent my day crying in bed, staring at the phone sitting on the bedside table. Sampson was a trooper and curled up against my back, a silent rock that reminded me I wasn't really alone.
Six weeks into my self imposed exile, I started to feel off. It was minor at first, I just slept in longer, had naps during the day and crashed early every night. A few days later I was nauseous, all the time. Charlie's second installment of ice cream went untouched and I was lucky if I could keep down crackers. Slowly the pieces started to fall into place.
The realization was enough to make me vomit.
One trip into town and three pregnancy tests later I was crying on the bathroom floor, trying to convince both myself and the whining dog on the other side of the door that I was alright. My first call was to Charlie, who listened with all the patience of a saint as I rambled on telling him that I was pregnant, that Lucas was the father and in no way on earth was I prepared for this.
When the tears ebbed enough for him to get a word in, he tried to reason with me. "We both know you need to tell him. He deserves to know sweetheart."
"I can't tell him, he hates me."
"He doesn't hate you," he said
"He threw me out."
"He pushes people away when he's scared, just like you." Charlie let out a gentle sigh. "I know it's hard but this is important, you can't stay hidden away forever."
"I could work from here."
I heard the smile in his voice. "You can't hide away forever and you can't let your child grow up without a father, just think of what it did to you."
"Hey Charlie?"
"Yes, love?" He said softly.
"No one likes the voice of reason."
He laughed, I smiled and ten minutes later I was looking at my phone as it sat on the floor in front of me. Turning it on was the first step, I told myself. I couldn't call using the land line because I didn't remember Lucas' number. That and I didn't want him to figure out where I was.
My phone exploded the minute I turned it on, eighty unanswered calls, mostly from Lucas. Over two hundred text messages, again mostly from Lucas, and apparently my voicemail box was full. Well, at least he hadn't pushed me from his life completely.
The masochist that I am slowly started scrolling through his messages starting with the latest one.
- You're scaring me. Please pick up the phone
- Where are you? Your landlord says she hasn't seen you in weeks
- God I hate your mother, she's blaming me for this. She's not wrong though
- Please just answer me, even if it's to tell me you hate me
As I was making my way through them, three little dots popped up on the lower left hand side and his next message popped up.
- Finally got a new phone?
My heart physically ached, the kind of ache I wasn't sure would ever go away. There was no stopping it now, he knew I was here, eventually I'd have to respond.
- We need to talk.
I didn't know what to say to that. I wanted to talk to him so much. I needed to talk to him but the words got stuck somehow. Instead I typed,
- I'm not ready to talk to you
Those three dots popped up again and I imagined the ferocity with which he must be typing his answer.
- We need to talk about this Allie, we can't leave it like this.
I let out a shuddering sigh.
- We need to talk, but not about us. When I'm ready I'll call you.
That worked about as well as a brick through a window. Seconds after I'd pressed send my phone started ringing. I declined the call, he called again. It went on like that until Sampson huffed and left the room. Only then did I accept the call, my breath stuck in my throat.
Time beat between us for a long moment or two. Finally he said, "I figured you'd be yelling at me the second you picked up." His words were met with silence, the kind of silence that spoke to all the hurt and sadness that stewed within me. "You're going to have to talk to me eventually Allie."
He was right. I sat there for a while, my breath frantic and racing. Finally in a great rush of air I said, "I'm pregnant."
Then it was his turn to be silent. Then he said, "And I guess you expect me to believe it's mine."