It happened about a month ago during a quick visit home. Only sometimes he missed her company, preferring the time to himself, to be alone or to choose the company of strangers. When he came home, however he liked seeing her smile and her tiger green-yellow eyes. It was strange that many had made comments that his girlfriend and him looked like siblings, but in the end it made sense to him, and he had never been more attracted to any other girl before. Not even that nordic looking blonde with the short hair who drove him crazy one winter in Los Angeles.
He only spent about half his time with her, the other half when she slept, he was able to visit his first love, that dusty city. He always carried with him at least 2 books - one non fiction and one fiction, just in case. He had a notebook and a camera, and his wallet, along with other essentials, such as pens, hand sanitizer, a comb, deodorant, a tooth brush and a clean pair of underwear, methodically tucked away so it would not accidentally fall out as he pulled a book out. He felt that he always needed to be prepared in case he need to spend the night somewhere away from home. Often when he explored the expansive downtown of LA he ended up getting drunk on PBRs in the warehouse district where his best friend had an art studio.
So there he was a month and a half ago. Freshly happy on anti-depressants (prescribed for the first time!) - there he was feeling balanced and sane, and perhaps in love. Not long ago, maybe a couple of weeks before, he wondered if he really loved her. He imagined that probably he would be happy with someone who would move to Germany with him, on a whim. Someone who would leave home for him. Someone who would need him enough to follow him, but was independent enough to leave him alone. He wanted to date a cat. Now he didn’t think of all this, he just thought of her, and how pretty she was, and how her bangs fell sideways and touched her left eyebrow. He thought of how she was so smart, even if she didn’t share his love of Kundera, Murakami and Casona. Even if she had never read Borges, or immersed herself in the black and white world of arthouse cinema, right now she seemed invaluable to him.
So it happened, and he let it go, and he didn’t feel any anxiety. Those drugs helped. Her warmth helped. Finally he thought he was safe and at home. Finally he was ready to get back on the train and go far away. He had fulfilled his need. Spring break was over.
Now - a month and a half after that early evening of soft bliss, he heard a knock on his door, which startled him. He never socialized in his studio, for he preferred meeting strangers and acquaintances at the bar, far away from all his scribbles, thoughts and secrets. And yet there it was, a knock as loud as a fist on wood. When he opened the door, he realized his first reaction was that of disappointment (although it wasn’t clear to him what would have made him happy at that moment) - unannounced, his girlfriend had come to pay him a visit.
"I drove all night" - she said matter-of factly, and he let her in. She kissed him on the cheek and he reacted by hugging her and patting her in the back.
"What are you doing here?" he blurted out, although deep down he really meant "is everything ok?" - why was he so awful at this? Why didn’t it come naturally to him to be kind and loving? He remembered that evening in her parents’ house where they kissed and lay naked listening to the cars go by.
"I needed to see you. I have something to talk about, and I couldn’t wait until May"
"Can I please have some water?" she said taking off her scarf, and setting her large overnight bag on the floor.
He handed her a glass and tried to look happy to see her. He had been studying for a final, fighting away the urge to work on his novel. Grad school was a challenge that kept him healthy, which meant he had several ideas for the perfect paragraph. He faked a smile and tried to give her the puppy eyes he used to have when looking at her, when things were lighter.
She proceeded to tell him that she was sure she was pregnant. She had gotten all sorts of tests, including a blood test at the hospital where she worked. She sounded unworried, except for a few occasions when her voice gave away a bit of doubt. She said that she hadn’t decided what she wanted to do yet, but that she needed him.
"Let’s go get something to eat" he interrupted, unable to hear more of this heavy truth. Two months ago, he imagined himself with other women, any other women, and he thought of her as boring, and uninteresting, and now, here she was, confessing her weight on his life was more than he had intended.
Instead of giving him a reply to the dinner invitation, she continued to talk, insisting that she was sorry. What a strange thing to be sorry for - as if one could control the falling eggs meeting a quick sperm and succeeding in creating a life. As if anybody could really control that in a moment of spontaneous bonding.
"What do you thing? You haven’t said anything. I need you"
"I love you" he meant it this time. He was so scared and confused and felt so alone, and he loved her. Whatever that meant.
"I love you too" she said, dissatisfied at the lack of a decision. She expected him to provide a solution or make a sweeping statement.
"So, do you want to get married?" the words leaving his mouth seemed to have left a blockage in his throat. He struggled to breathe, and coughed a few times, then paced to his room where he took a couple of Xanax and did some quick breathing exercises. - "Well, with an offer like that how can a girl refuse?" she replied bitterly.
"I prefer to take things slow anyway. Besides I am not sure I want to keep it. I thought I did, but I don’t know anymore"
Was she thinking of leaving him? Did he mess up? He loved her, or maybe he didn’t, but he should love her. Maybe he should have been happy for these news. Maybe this is what she needed. But when she said she didn’t know if she’d keep it, he felt relief, and he was able to breathe again. The decision was hers, of course, but what could he do if she chose somethiing he wasn’t ready for?
"I understand. I’ll be there for you"
"Let’s just go to dinner."
After dinner she went to bed, and he went to his computer. He poured himself into his studies, until his brain hurt. He felt so alone. Was she feeling alone too, that she drove for hours at night with a pre-child in her belly and some interesting news just to be with him?
The next morning she needed to leave, so she said goodbye, and it felt like she meant it. At least of r awhile. She said she’d keep in touch and let him know what she’d decide. She said that they had until the end of the month to figure it out.He kissed her, and she left.
