Between The Empty Spaces

CHAPTER 2

My eyes flutter open, blinking multiple times, squinting due to the ceiling lights, before I can make out machines at the side near the stainless bed drawer while an iron bar stands beside on the other side of the bed I am currently lying on. There are curtains separating me from the other areas, but other machine sounds and chatter outside of the isolated area are audible.

No question that I am in a hospital. Instantly, panic sets in on me upon the realization and my hands travel to my stomach. Examining myself further, I sighed in relief when I saw nothing connected to me. No IVs, no machines, nothing, except for a tiny cotton ball in my arm fixed in place by a surgical tape. My clothes are intact. That's a freaking good sign that I am okay. But there is no sign of my bag. I need to call Diane.

How did I even get here and what the hell happened to me? Gregory must be here somewhere because he was the last person I was with. My strength hasn't come back in full force, but I managed to stand up. I am about to draw the cubicle curtain when I hear Greg's voice behind it and decide to listen.

"She's alright, isn't she? What happened to her? I swear she just fainted while we were in the car. Are her test results okay?" He seems to be talking to a doctor. With his barrage of questions, I feel elated how concerned he is of me.

A man cleared his throat.

"What is your relationship with her again?"

"The," he paused, "boyfriend."

"Great." The sound of pages turning followed it. " Your girlfriend, Ms. Carter, is perfectly fine. Is she taking her prenatal vitamins well? If so, she might need to change it to this. This is her prescription for-"

"Prenatal?" he questions with a slightly raised voice. "Why would she take prenatal vitamins? She isn't pregnant."

There is a long pause before the doctor speaks again. I should be the one saying it to him.

"You might want to talk to her regarding this matter, but based on her results, she is around 8 weeks pregnant. I thought you knew, so I discussed it with you."

"Run the tests again. You've got it wrong. She isn't pregnant," he insisted, clearly furious at the doctor even though the poor professional has nothing to do with the result. Now, the cotton on my arm makes sense.

I am completely disheartened with what I am hearing. This isn't what I expected his reaction to be. I mean we have been sexually active, especially him, except for a month that he had to be away. It is my fault for stopping the pill without letting him know, but he would always pull out. I gave him my virginity for Pete's sake!

"Calm down, Gregory," a middle-aged woman's voice said. "Thanks, doc. We'll be taking it from here."

At first, I am unsure who the owner of the voice is, but seconds later, I figure out that it must be her mom's. Perhaps, I am in the hospital where her mom works. After all, she is a doctor. I'm just not sure of what.

"Pleasure's mine, Dr. Holt. Here's the prescription for Ms. Carter. In case she needs an OBGYN, she can contact me on the number there."

"I'll let her know," she replies.

The squeak of his rubber slippers gradually faints. I want to reveal myself to both of them, but they continue their conversation. The masochist in me decides that it is good to eavesdrop.

"You, i***t! How could you knock her up?" Her mom snapped at him while trying to keep it down.

"She has been on birth control since we started dating! I don't know why she'd stop it! I would always tell her to stay on it. What an i***t!"

Is it just me or did he say that I am an i***t? My eyes scan the place for something, anything, that I can throw at him and smash at his face, but there is none except the huge, plugged in machines. You never know when you are out of luck.

"What are you going to do now, huh? Your wedding will be in a month! I made sure your engagement with Phoebe was a success. You better not embarrass me, Gregory! Phoebe has even called me mom. You don’t know how enlightened I was to be called mom by the director’s daughter."

Of course, she was. The first time I met her and her husband three months ago was unpleasant and very unsettling. We had dinner, and all they went on about was how good of a catch their son was, casually saying that he was too good for me. But I didn't say anything. The good natured me preferred peace and kept my cool. Again, I am patient. I could even win a Nobel Prize for it.

The longer I listen to what she is saying, the more my composure breaks. My chest heaves, trying to stifle the light sobs that I didn't know were coming out of me. The tears that I thought that have been depleted awhile ago, come back in abundance, streaming down as I palm my face. The need to go away as far as possible from this place reigns over me, but my damned feet appear to have been paralyzed by the announcement of the asshole's mother.

“I love her, and I will marry her.”

I laughed inaudibly with the absurdity of what I just heard. He said that our relationship isn't working out anymore. The reason behind it is now crystal clear. It is definitely not me but him.

How can he do this to me after all those years that I put him in my top priority, even before myself. So all those late night calls from the boss and the out of town construction are all excuses. I have invested myself too much, but apparently I am the only one in too deep in the relationship. Four wasted years that I can never bring back.

"It could not be mine, mom. I mean I've been gone for a month, and maybe she has had other affairs. We cannot just trust people these days," he continues making excuses. “I never, you know, come inside her.”

"Right. Most probably, it's not yours. Why would you father someone else's child? You can't take that responsibility" she condones her son's lame attempt to escape the situation.

My ears ring with their spiteful words about me and my baby; I pull up my big girl panties and wipe the stupid tears away. They gave me just the strength I need to bolt out of the tiny isolated area where I have been bottling up the pain they have caused for a short time. They recognize me immediately by the look on their faces. They are horrified, and they should be.

Without hesitation, I charge towards Greg and land a forceful slap on his face and he grimaces. My palm stings, but the pain comes off as sweet as a dessert served at the right moment. When he recovers quickly, I punched him on the other cheek using my other hand.

His mom scurries to her son's side to aid him while he wipes his bleeding lips with his hand. People start gawking, but I can't care less. They can watch for all I care. That's a good thing for me, but definitely not for these two. Causing a scene at the feminine version of Greg will keep them up on their feet for some time, plus they can have something to remember me and my baby by.

"You, asshole. Yes you are the father, and no I didn't have any other person that I f**k unlike you! You sick piece of s**t! You disgust me, both of you. And that mouth of yours should never ever speak anything about my baby. How dare you," I point a finger at him, "and you," I point at his mom, "accuse me of something that you are guilty of."

I want to throw up, but I suppress it. Now is not the time. I must stand my ground and let them know that they cannot run their mouths anytime they want. Not about me and my little unborn.

"I have wasted four years of my sweet life to spend with a useless scumbag like you. I could have had a better man if I had listened to Diane," I smirk.

I have to stop for a brief pause to breathe in, and I continue my monologue, being as loud as possible.

"You don't want to be the father? Then f*****g don't. Not now or ever. How lucky my child won't have you as the father because you are a worthless garbage. And a mama's boy," I spit out.

It feels liberating to finally voice out my pain and frustrations towards the two of them. His mother wants to retaliate, but my demeanor must have prevented her from doing so. Noticing my bag on the dumbass' hand, I grab it and he flinches.

"p***y," I snarled at him. "You won't ever be in our lives even when you beg. You hear me?"

With one last hateful glare at them, I exited the emergency room. The adrenaline rush pumping through me starts to decrease and is replaced by uncertainty and brokenness. I walk as far from the emergency room as possible and onto another part of the huge hospital. It looks like it is a garden for the patients. I sit down on the bench. Not knowing what to do, so I fish my bag for my phone and quickly dial my best friend's phone number. I told her a brief summary of the events.

"Wait there and stay where you are not alone. I'll be there in 10 minutes. I'm going to kill that bastard," she yells and I won't even doubt that she would do that.

Looking down, my shaking hands hug my stomach. I wish my baby didn't hear anything a while back. That is not the life I wish for it to have. I will give the best that life can offer to give the happiness it deserves. This might be a tough start, but this start won't stop me from giving up. Life is beautiful, and so is my baby.

Suddenly, a bottle of water and a handkerchief appear in front of my sight causing me to look up.

"You're such a strong woman back there," a man, quite my age or a bit older, says. "Are your hands okay? Are they bleeding?"

"Stop bothering me and just leave me the hell alone," I muttered in a tone that I hope will drive him away. I don't want anyone near me now, especially a stranger. My eyes are painfully swollen, but a few tears still manage to escape. My hands are fine, though. Maybe they will hurt once I get home.

"Can I sit?" he points at the empty spot beside me.

"No."

"Thanks," he replies and sits down next to me as if I welcomed him.

Physically and mentally drained, I just let him. He doesn't appear to be a dangerous person with his black jacket and pants, a navy blue shirt, and slightly long hair that is pushed back. Maybe he is. I am a terrible judge of character; Greg is the living proof to that. The hospital has guards rounding it anyway in case this man is a maniac.

"What do you want?" I question with a slight rise of tone.

"For you to stay hydrated and your baby," he answers and offers the bottle again.

I eye it suspiciously, but he just smiles. Then he twists the lid open, holds it up and pours some water in his mouth.

"Safe to drink, no drugs, nothing. Don't be stubborn and just drink up," he encourages.

"Are you a doctor or what?" I sarcastically remarked.

"Maybe."

My throat does feel dry after all that screaming, so I take it from him and have a swig. The cool liquid soothes my throat and provides a bit of relief.

"Thanks," I say quietly and toss the bottle in the bin near me after I emptied it.

"Now, your face. Your makeup is sort of messy with all those crying," he reminds me and I quickly look away. I blindly take the handkerchief from his hand and rub the soft fabric on it.

It takes me a few good minutes to try to look a bit presentable. Luckily, mascara isn't a part of my make up or I would have looked like a clown.

"Thank you. Can I return these after I wash them? I don't think you like this mess in your pocket," I apologetically muttered, showing him the once blue big handkerchief, now filled with color smudges.

Looking at him, a sincere smile plastered on his face that consoled me somehow. There is no judgment on his face, only care for the baby while the father hasn’t even given it a chance. He needs to know that it is his big loss and not ours.

“You can keep it. I don’t think we’ll be meeting again.”

“Oh, okay.“

I open my bag and place it there, I might need it later.

“Do you feel better? Do you feel cold?”

He is about to remove his jacket, but I instantly shook my head. I have caused him enough trouble, and my body is still comfortable with the air blowing through the place. The chill of the autumn pre-autumn air numbs me.

“Thanks, but I think I’m fine. My friend will be here anytime soon.”

He nods.

“You know, what you did back there amazed me. That’s why I followed you out here,” he admitted.

“That’s a bit creepy. You don’t just follow a stranger.”

He puts his arms up. “Not in that kind of way. I just envy you for having the boldness to speak your heart out. It must have been extremely freeing. For Pete’s sake! I heard she’s a high ranking doctor in this hospital.”

“I just had to,” I said simply as there wasn’t anything to say.

“I cannot picture you as a woman with a mouth like that. Wow. That was so impressive.”

I face him to see if he is serious, and he is.

Some strands of his black hair are shining against the illuminating moon, lying lazily on his forehead. His sharp nose conceals the other side of his face from the way we are seated.

“How do you picture me then? A pushover woman that does not know how to stand up for herself?”

“Not at all. You strike someone as sweet, and I really think you are. You were holding your stomach back there, and until now. You’re already being a good mother,” he continuously utters with his dimple cheek showing as he speaks.

“Thank you so much," I speak without anything else to say.

And there it is again, the tears. Now that I am reminded of him and how he turns my dream of a family into wishful thinking.

“f*****g mouth.”

I hear him curse to himself and cautiously tap my back, his feeble attempt to console me.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “I should have chosen my words carefully.”

“It’s all right. My eyes are quite in the mood today,” I joke in between the wiping of tears.

“If it gives you any solace, you’ll be a superb mom without having to worry about an asshole husband and father. Just think of it as if you dodged a bullet,” he winks and grins, showing his pearly white set of teeth.

“That’s true.”

I did not realize that we have been talking longer for someone that I never had any plan conversing with when Diane comes with a menacingly aura.

"Where's that d**k?" she shouts while treading towards me.

The man didn't notice her approaching at first, but with her boisterous voice, he turns his head to see her. It's clear that she didn't waste any time to get to me because she is just wearing her pyjamas and a thin jacket. Her hair is in a messy bun.

"That must be your friend," he whispers with amusement in his voice.

"The one and only."

She goes to us, eyeing the man sitting next to me, silently asking who the hell he is.

"A good samaritan who gave me water," I ended her questioning gaze. " He's just leaving,though."

"I am?" He questions."I am," he says, taking the hint that I want him to leave unscathed by my friend's wrath. At this point, I can say she's not into socializing. Quite the opposite.

He stood up, and god he is tall. I didn't pay attention to it the first time, but now Diane reaches his chin. She, being taller than me, then I would probably reach his shoulders, wide shoulders.

"Take care of your baby," he mutters with a look, not of pity, but concern.

He starts to make his way, but then he glances back at me.

"And yourself," he adds, then continues his exit even before I can mutter a reply.

Is it weird to feel comfort because of his words? What happened a while ago was one of the most painful episodes that have ever happened to me, but the thoughtfulness he displayed warms my broken heart. Sure, it hurts. Four years into the relationship, with Greg being my first boyfriend and the one I gave my virginity to, it was a huge deal for me. Despite that, I don't think I will be wallowing in tears nor in self-pity.

Diane takes the recently vacated seat. She removes her black jacket and places it on my back. When the man from minutes ago has completely departed, her face softens as if on cue.

"You okay? Is the baby alright?"

I nodded with a light genuine beam."Yes, I'm fine now. Who needs him when I have you," I assure her. She has a very high tendency to overthink things, so I don't want her to worry any further. Plus, I really did feel better after the unexpected pep talk with him earlier.

"You know that I am," she holds my hands reassuringly, then looks around, attempting to catch the sight of his target, and I know she's very much determined to see him to give him a piece of her mind, or her fist. Probably both.

“Hey,” I call to avert her gaze at me. “It’s fine. He doesn’t deserve your energy and time. I’ve wasted too much of it with him. Let’s just go.”

She sighs audibly. She is not used to giving up and staying silent, but this time she is aware that she cannot push it. She helps me up and takes my bag from me to sling it on her.

"He's an asshole and a dumb s**t to let you both go," she whispers while we walk towards her SUV that she bought using her modeling side job. To be honest, she earns more on it than teaching, so I don’t understand why she still sticks on teaching.

“I couldn’t agree more,” I beam.

This is way different wih how I picture my future would be, but I won't be ever change it for anything. It was Gregory's choice to abandon us, and now I am going to make the choice of building a great life for me and my child. I am an independent and apt woman.

And I don't need a man.