Imagine this: Showing up at Matthew Gray Gubler’s house to inform him that you are pregnant with his child after a party gone wrong, only to find out he was so intoxicated that he doesn’t even recognize you.
(Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Epilogue)
“I hope the Reverend was right,” you think to yourself, sitting in the driveway of this beautiful Vegas home. You know your sickness kicks in during the evenings, so you hope that this will be a short visit.
As you clutch the manila folder in your arms, you get out of your car and walk up to the house. “Here goes nothing.”
Ding dong, goes the doorbell, and as you hear skittering behind the doors, a young woman opens the door.
“May I help you?” she inquires.
“Yes, is this the Gubler residence?”
“Hi. I’m sorry. My name is Y/N. I have some documents for a Mr. Mathew Gubler.”
Her eyes widen as she says, “hang on a second.”
“Matthew! You’re getting seeeeeerved!” she walks away laughing, and those eyes come rounding the corner. Those eyes, and that smile. And that hair.
“Hey! I’m Matthew. How can I help?”
As you stand there in silence, realizing this conversation is really about to happen, your hands start to shake.
“Do you think we could, uh…talk out on the porch, Mr. Gubler?”
“Please! Call me Matthew. And sure.”
The two of you sit on the porch, and you hand him the manila folder.
Matthew stares at you blankly, furrowing his brow, not realizing he was supposed to know you. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
“At a party a couple of months ago. In Pasadena. You invited me in out of my car, since I was DD’ing for a few girls and hadn’t come in, and we had a drink together. Do you remember that at all?”
“No…no I’m sorry, I don’t. I remember the party, but not you.”
As your stomach sank, you gave him the quick synopsis, knowing nothing would lessen the blow of this meeting any less.
“Well, we sat down and talked for a while, and you started not feeling well, so I helped you upstairs. I got you settled into bed, and I kept trying to leave but you wouldn’t let me go. So, I laid down with you to stay…”
“Uh huh…” Matthew says with a little concern.
“I am so sorry. I should’ve kept denying your advances. You were intoxicated and you kept telling me how lonely you felt and how you didn’t want me to let you go, and I…” tears well up in your eyes and you look down at your feet. “I should’ve kept saying no to your advances. Mr. Gubler I am so sorry.”
Your entire body starts to shake with nervousness as you turn your attention to the folder. “In this folder is a series of documents. They are all signed and witnessed, except for the last one. The documents talk about how I will never go to the media and announce anything, and one states how I will not attempt to come after you for money, and another one states how I will not harass you at your work or home residence(s) should you not want my presence.”
“Wh-why are these documents necessary?” Matthew asks, knowing good and well why.
Sighing, you whisper, “Because I’m pregnant.”
Matthew stares blankly over your head, and after a few moments have passed, asks, “What is the last document? The one that isn’t signed?”
“That is for you. Should you make the decision that you don’t want to be apart of this, which is completely fine by the way…we will be alright in terms of money, I promise…it is a document that waives your parental rights. You can wash your hands of this incident knowing that I will never go to the media or attempt to slander your name and reputation in any way.”
“Waive parental rights…” he trails off. Could this actually be happening? Could he have made such a grave error of judgement?
As tears streak your cheeks, you feel the nausea rolling in your stomach. “Mr. Matthew, I am so, so sorry. I took advantage of you that night, for my own selfish whims, and have put you in a horrible scenario. I am so beyond sorry.”
Matthew turns his blank stare to you, unable to come up with anything to say.
“I suppose I should get back to my hotel room. I am not feeling too well anyway.”
“D-do you have a cell phone?” Matthew asks.
“No. But, that number on the front of the folder is the phone number to my hotel room, should you need it…or want it…for whatever reason.”
Matthew turns his gaze down to the numbers on the folder, his thoughts swirling in his head.
“I take full responsibility, Mr. Matthew. I had time to make my choice, and after one bad decision, I didn’t want to risk making another. You have every right to have the time that I had to make the decision that I made of my own free will.”
When Matthew doesn’t answer, you get up from your chair. Your hands shaking, you put them behind your back, focusing on your breathing so you don’t get sick on his porch.
“I-I am so sorry, Mr. Matthew.”
As you walk off the porch towards your car, you hear Matthew say behind you, “It’s Matthew. Just…Matthew.”
