Between The Empty Spaces

CHAPTER 1

The dizziness, the nausea and the freaking sensitivity to scents have been terrorizing me for a week now. I have been vehemently confronting my best friend, Diane, that her spraying-perfume habit could kill even a person with a gas mask on, and me. Plus, I put on some kilograms and my feet are easily sore just by simply standing on my feet for a few minutes. Hence, I am taking the time off from the school I am working at with Diane.

Thanks to her, though, I am able to get my hands on the pregnancy test as I refuse to leave the house that we are both renting in the city. She bought it on her way back from school after insisting about it a dozen times before as she also notices the changes in my body that I was quite oblivious to the past weeks. I mean, it could just be because of the midnight snacks I had been ravaging while checking my students' homework.

I took the pregnancy kit out of the box and tried reading the paper that came with it, with no intention of really comprehending whatever is written on it. My nerves are definitely in a mess and in no perfect condition to read what seems to be like a compressed newspaper page in different languages. Do people really read this?

Glad that I know how the thing works even though I haven't used it before, I quickly did what must be done. I know I should have done this earlier, but I thought it was another episode of my irregular cycle. Typically, I am a month or two late and that doesn't bother me. Well, clearly until today. I used to be on the pill, but it has taken a toll on my health and I had to stop it. Unfortunately, it has slipped my mind numerous times to let Greg know about it.

I stare at the white test strip on my hand while I pace back and forth in my small bathroom. This can't calm me, but I feel like the moment it verifies my gut feeling, I will not be able to move and be glued to the toilet seat. This must have been the longest three minutes of my 24-year-old life. I am never impatient; actually I am the total opposite of it. With my dream job of being a grade school teacher, those first grade rugrats I have in my class can't even drive me up the wall. But this waiting game I am currently in takes the cake.

My eyes start brimming with tears when I see the two red lines presenting themselves. I place the test on the counter and grab the sink with my two shaking hands with the hope that they won't let me down unlike my legs that are gradually losing strength.

"Yumiko," a tough yet feminine voice called out from the bathroom. "I'm coming in," she announces before entering, which she rarely does.

Her eyes land on the positive pregnancy strip on the counter and after taking in my disposition, she instantly cages me into a much needed hug which I gladly accept. I desperately cling onto her and let my tears run down freely without muffling my silent sobs.

"Shhh, everything will be okay," she comforts while soothing my back with her hands. "Greg will be there for you."

It is not a secret to me that she hates my boyfriend, Greg, with a burning passion for many reasons. For one, she said that he is a controlling freak, her words, and for another is that he is too old for me. He is just three years ahead of us! Lastly, he is friends with his exes. Honestly, that doesn't bother me one bit. I trust him.

"What if he won't?" I voiced out with my shaky tone. He hasn't shown any desire to settle down anytime soon, let alone a baby. Our baby.

Don't get me wrong. This growing life inside of me has been the greatest thing that has happened to me, but I can never shake the feeling of giving my unborn child a life that I have. But I have a sad history.

My Japanese father abandoned me even before I was born, then few weeks after my birth, my mother left me to my grandma as she said it wasn't the life she wanted. She loved to live freely without anyone holding her back. She didn't contact us until one day when a police officer called my grandma informing her about the death of my mother. It was due to drug overdose. I was merely three years old.

I never really feel the lack of affection, though. In fact, grandma showered me with love, and it nurtured me to who I am today. But there were times when I saw my classmates in elementary and middle school with their parents, I wished to have a larger family. I would ask myself if I wasn't worthy enough for them to easily cut me off their lives.

Diane pushes away from me and holds me on my shoulders. Despite my blurry vision, I can see her eyes staring at me with fervor.

"Then I will!" she stated intensely. "You will never ever be alone again, Yumi. I promise you that. My little godson, or daughter won't feel that he or she isn't loved. What happened to you in your childhood, it won't happen to him, or her. Do you hear me?"

Looking at her, she looks like a mother assuring her child that everything will turn out great. I can't help but chuckle, wiping away my disgusting snot with the napkin she hands me. Can you remind me how lucky I am to have a friend like her?

"I said do you understand," she repeated with more force than the previous one.

"Yes, ma'am," I nodded with a smile on my face.

"Then fix your face. You better make sure that my godson, or goddaughter, won't have your ugly crying face," she joked, grabbing more napkins for me. "Sheesh. I think I'm picking my gender side, I think it's a boy."

"Isn't it too early for genders?"

My smile widens as I hold my stomach for the first time. Diane's right. Whatever Greg's decision is, I won't let my very own child experience what I went through. I will make sure he or she won't ever doubt herself because of others.

She shrugged. "Just saying. My bet is on a godson. So when are you telling him?" she asked as she helped me clean up the mess of napkins on the counter.

"He's picking me up in two hours, so I'm thinking maybe it's good to tell him by then," I sighed. "Gosh, I don't think I can," I admitted.

She took my hand. "Hey. It's okay to feel that way. Don't beat yourself up. Tell him, then we can decide what to do next. Alright?"

I just nodded, unsure of what words to utter.

"Now, get your ass ready," she faces me in the mirror and taps my shoulders before going out of the bathroom.

The reflection of me on it seems different with the image I always saw every morning I looked at it. The uncertainty in my eyes that had always been there had magically vanished. The trauma from my childhood, however, remains constant. Probably the only constant thing in my life.

"Yumiko, you are one strong woman. You don't need anyone to validate you. You only need you. No one else matters but you," I recited my mantra, "and your baby," I added with happiness in my tone. I can't believe that I, indeed, am pregnant.

I can say that my mantra has saved me from a lot of breakdowns from childhood to present. Saying it with the additional phrase lights me up. A different world opens up, and this world will be mine for the taking. Fate has already messed up with my childhood, and it would be unbearable if my baby will go through the same.

After my much needed shower and occasional singing to pacify my nerves, I rummaged through my drawers for something decent to wear. I have gained quite a few kilos because of the heavy midnight snack I had been hungrily munching on while checking the papers and exams of my little students. Come to think of it, Korean food must have been my early cravings. Making a mental note to order some more of that spicy rice cakes for later, I slipped a leg on my regular jeans. They are not too tight, so I guess this will do.

"That's what you are wearing?" Diane barges in without knocking her voice louder than appropriate. I frantically grab the towel on my bed to cover my chest as I am not wearing anything.

"Don't you know how to knock, Diane?" I glared at her. This habit of hers doesn't annoy me, but now it does, plus her perfume-spraying galore.

"Knock, knock," she hit her knuckles against my open door, smirking.

"You do it before you come in, not after!"

She rolled her eyes at me. "Why does it matter? I've seen you naked before, you've seen me naked. I've walked in on you and your boyfriend," she rambles on. "No big deal."

"That's the point of knocking. So you don't see those," I replied to her while trying to hide something behind her back.

Sometimes I cannot reason with her, not because there isn't anything more to rebut, but because it is impossible to win against her colorful mind. She will always have something smart to say. I love her dearly, but her attitude sometimes exhausts me. Perhaps that is why we get along so much, she is assertive and I am a pathetic pushover. Maybe, I need to learn from her.

"Okay," she answered dismissively. I doubt that of course. "Anyway, here!" She holds out a purple velvet dress that runs down under the knee with short sleeves and a low dip neckline. It is lovely, but quite daring for my taste. I will probably look s**t in it, but her efforts. God!

"What were you thinking with those inappropriate jeans? You are pregnant, Yumi. These need to go for good, or for at least until you have given birth," she grabs it away as if they can potentially harm me.

I purse my lips like a child receiving a present from Santa. Suddenly, I felt a strong urge to cry with the sweet gesture of hers. These hormones are killing me! One moment I am infuriated then emotional. I must find an OBGYN clinic as soon as possible.

"Where did you get it? That's my size!" I walk closer to her and hug her. She models for a brand part-time, and her size is small while mine is medium. She intentionally has this ready for me, unpredictable b***h.

Am I keen on physical interactions? No. Do I cry easily? No, I don't cry with these kinds of things. Hell, I didn't even cry when the two of us watched The Notebook while she bawled her eyes out.

"The boutique we visited last time of course. Where else? Good thing I don't listen to you, dummy. Wear it now!"

She sits down comfortably on my bed, clearly not going to leave until she sees the dress on me, so I put it on and present myself in front of my fairy godmother. She clasps her hands together in awe and obviously pleased with her choice of clothing. I, too, admire myself. I would not have the confidence and even the chance to wear these kinds of clothes if it wasn't for her.

"I told you that suits you so well. I don't get why you insist on saying that dresses aren't your thing. Evidently, it does. You can pass as their model, too, you know" she complimented. "Good thing I bought it and in the right size."

Last week, we both went to the brand she's modeling for a photo shoot. She called me saying she needed help, but it turned out to be an excuse so she could buy some dresses for me. She even wanted to pay for them, but I declined as I don't think I do them justice like her. It is such a waste of money. She ended up upset as I escaped from her and went home first while she was having her autumn photo shoot.

"Thank you so much for this, for everything really," my eyes water and run to embrace her for the nth time today. This has got to be the last episode of my sentimental explosion for the week.

"You saved me from death, Yumi. I'll forever be thankful."

Her face softened upon the recollection of her dark days, and I was miraculously with her during those times. That was also the time I have proven that the happiest people on Earth are the saddest. No matter how they mask it, it eventually breaks and consumes them.

She cleared her throat. "So," she tries averting the topic, "stay here while I go get my makeup and my curl iron. You need to be impeccable, not that you are not, but we both know the crying you did today isn't too helpful."

Of course, she doesn't disappoint as she comes back with her make-up kit that doesn't resemble a kit at all. It is a humongous expandable box that you would see professional make-up artists use. You can really never predict her, sometimes she overstates and sometimes she understates. All up to her mood, I guess.

My mini-make up glam session half an hour later with a nude make-up style, slightly sultry lips and mermaid curls, I am all set for the dinner with Greg. He sent me a message that he is outside and waiting for me in his car. Before leaving, I go to Diane's room to say goodbye. She is sitting on her desk, legs crossed over it, a book on her hand and a gold face mask on her face. She seems to be enjoying her time.

"He's waiting for me outside," I informed her.

She quickly looked up from the book and at me. "He is really rude, isn't he? Too heavy balls to come in and say hi?" She doesn't hide her annoyance with him and I acknowledge it.

I wrinkled my nose and smiled to lessen her irritation with him. She stood up and walked me out the door like a mother handing her daughter to her prom date.

"Hope he's got those heavy balls to take care of you and my buddy right here." She poked my not-so-noticeable bump.

"I hope so too. See you later." I leaned forward and lightly touched my cheek with hers.

"Call me when you need me."

"I will." I wish I didn't have to call her because of something bad. This morning made me the happiest I have ever been, and I hope this night will turn out to be one of the best moments in my life.

I wave goodbye and head towards the parked blue sedan on our driveway and get in. I remembered one time when I thought he was going to open the door for me, he said that I had two capable hands to open the freaking door. Others would think of it as a red flag, but what he said was true. Since then, I never let him do things for me.

"Hi," I greeted him cheerfully, and then pecked him on the cheek. We haven't seen each other for two weeks as he is out of town in a business construction building he is assigned to.

"Hey. You look stunning," he replied half-heartedly.

It's not me and my overflowing hormones, right? He is acting quite off and I can't just shrug it off no matter how I intentionally repress it.

"Are you okay? Are we okay?" I asked worriedly. "Have you been getting enough rest lately? You seem drained."

"Just busy at work.”

He ignites his car and makes his way out to the curb without speaking which is very unusual of him. Most of the time, he would pester me about my gym appointments if I met with his gym instructor and if I lost the weight he had been insisting for the longest time. He is a health buff which is understandable as his mom is a health worker. He must have gotten it from her. Unfortunately, I don’t agree with him. I am healthy and beautiful with my size and I don’t think changing it just because he wants a Victoria supermodel for a girlfriend would encourage me to do so.

“Where are we going?” I try to break the silence when it becomes too deafening. “Are we meeting your family like we planned last month?”

His expression doesn’t give me a good feeling. He has been gloomy ever since I entered his car. Maybe he needs a bit of space, so I opt for keeping the silence in the tiny isolation of his car.

A bit later, he clears his throat “Yumiko," he pauses, "we need to talk. I know that we have been together for a very long time, but-”

He occasionally stops talking when the road becomes a bit busy with cars coming in from different sides.

"This isn't working anymore."

My heart started beating triple times. My mind suddenly becomes a void, a pit like how Alice fell into that stupid hole. I can see his mouth moving again, but no sound is coming out of it. All I can hear is a high-pitch sound, rendering me helpless.

Suddenly, my breathing becomes irregular. My lightheadedness has evolved, painfully deprived of air as it becomes harder to take in oxygen.

Then blackness engulfs me.