King of Anything

16

Months pass. Though Scar still shows up at my home and work, he mainly stays away from me.

For some reason, he's kept his distance—for him. I go about my life ordinarily, going to work, then going home.

Suddenly, I start feeling sick. Nauseous. I write it off as a cold.

I go into work, where, of course, Scar is waiting to say his, as I call them, opening statements.

"Good morning, Dear." He greets me.

I nod. "I got you coffee again." He hands it to me.

I drink it down, feeling fatigued.

"You don't look so good, Maureen."

"I told you. Don't call me Maur—" I lurch, and vomit. Then I see the vomit, and vomit again. Then I smell it, and vomit once more.

Then it drips off the table, and the sound makes me vomit again. Then I taste in my mouth and I vomit one last time.

"Oh my!" He exclaims, taking me by the arms pulling me into his own.

"We need to get you to the doctor right away!"

"I-I 'm fine," I whisper, exhausted.

"Do not argue with me," he wipes my mouth with a Starbucks napkin. "We're going to the doctor right now."

• • •

"You're pregnant ," the doctor informs me, glancing at Scar, who smiles at me.

"That's...that's amazing!"

Pregnant? I'm pregnant? No. No that's not possible!

"Check again! "I order, "Get a second opinion!"

Scar holds my hand. "Everything is going to fine. But...you're carrying my baby. You know what that means?"

My breathing hitches, as he smiles triumphantly.

"We'll move you home today. And I'll take good care of you, and our little one."

But I...I can't be pregnant.

I glance at the doctor. "Am I really pregnant?"

He looks at Scar and back at me with a small smile. "Yes. I'm sure you two will make excellent parents."

Pregnant? Why doesn't this feel right?

"Take me to another doctor," I order.

"Being pregnant can't be that bad," he smiles. "This is a good thing—"

"It's a convenient thing. And I don't believe it."

He opens his mouth, shutting it. "I know it's a shock. And I'm sure you don't want to be tied to me but...we have to work it out, for our baby."

I grit my teeth. "Baby?"

He smiles. "Yeah. Our baby."

I scoff. "I'm wondering," I say lowly, "How in a month or two you're gonna make a baby bump appear?"

He shrugs. "We'll see when it happens huh? Let's get you home, Dear."

Pregnant.