After a few more weeks went by, my pregnancy was starting to show. I had told no one that I was pregnant, but it wasn't going to be a secret for much longer. One day while Pat and I had dinner at the DanceCube, we danced a bit then sat at the bar to grab a bite to eat.
There was no one within earshot so I asked him as nonchalantly as I could manage; "Pat, have you told Julia about the baby yet?"
"No", he answered. "Not yet." He looked away. I could tell he didn't really want to discuss this.
"It's just that the fact that I'm pregnant is going to become even more obvious soon, and the situation is just kind of....awkward", I said calmly.
He sighed. "I know, Honey. I'll tell her soon".
A few weeks passed but he had said nothing further about telling Julia. An acqaintance from work noticed my baby bump and asked me if I was pregnant; I told her yes but when she asked who the father was I said it wasn't anyone she knew. Gosh, I hated not knowing if he'd told Julia or not. And it was difficult for me to understand why he wouldn't tell her unless there was something about their relationship that he hadn't told me about.
That evening, Pat and I went to the Squeeky Wheel. It was a casual out-of-the-way dive bar, but they had good pizza. After we ate, we played pool. I was terrible at it.
After we'd been there awhile, I got the nerve to ask him again, "Pat, I'm sorry to bring this up again, but I was wondering if you told Julia about the baby yet?"
He seemed to hesitate. He finally said "Yes. She cried. And then she told me she loved me and wanted us to have a real marriage". He looked a upset.
"What!?", was my shocked response. I looked around and took a deep breath. I said in a lowered voice, as calmly as I could manage; "What did you say to that?". "I didn't say anything, really", he replied. "I don't want to hurt her. If it wasn't for her, I'd probably be dead right now", he told me angrily.
"Why!? What happened?", I asked him. "I'm sorry Laura, but I can't talk about this right now. I'm ready to go", he said rather forcefully.
He quickly walked out and started the car; I followed him outside and got in. Both of us were silent as he drove me back to the apartment. I felt bereft, and ill, as if I'd been kicked in the stomach. Considering that there was a baby growing inside me at the moment that was a terrible feeling. I kept rubbing my hands on my stomach, as if doing that would protect him and make the pain go away.
It was one thing to think they were living in that big house as platonic friends, but what was I supposed to make of this development? And what was this terrible thing that almost killed him? And why wouldn't he talk to me about it?
I seriously felt like I was going to throw up, but I managed to maintain my composure until he pulled up in front of my apartment, got out and opened my car door, then said "Goodnight, Laura" before getting back in his car and driving off. I'd never felt so alone in all my life.
I didn't hear from Pat for a at least a week after that, and didn't see him at work, either. I spent the week feeling sad, lonely, and depressed. And very, very lost.
But then he came over one evening unannounced and apologized, presented me with some flowers, and showered me with kisses. I was so happy he had returned to me and the baby that I couldn't stay angry at him no matter how hard I tried. We eventually ended up in the bedroom and he spent the night.
He never disappeared again after that. He continued to call me and see me regularly. "Oh my!", I said one day when he was at the apartment. "I just felt the baby kick!"
Pat put his hands on me and said; "Yes! I can feel him move in there." We looked at each other with happiness and wonder.
He insisted on coming with me to my doctor's appointment later that week. He was attentive and protective and wonderful, and I loved him for it.
The days passed, and although we mostly spent time together at my apartment, on one special occasion Pat surprised me with a romantic dinner and dancing at a local club. He'd rented the entire place for the evening so we could have it privately all to ourselves. I thought it was the most romantic thing ever!
He didn't bring up the subject of his and Julia's relationship again, and neither did I. The truth was that I just couldn't handle thinking too much more about it; my emotions were all over the place as it was. I just decided to be happy being with Pat whenever he arranged for us to be together.