Again, for what seemed like the umpteenth time in his adult life, Darren listened to his mother go on and on about marriage and how it was important for him to get married for the sake of passing the family wealth down. Darren listened, as he always did, not saying much back. His mother could use his words as more fuel on the fire. Like always, he promised his mother he would think about it then came up with a flimsy excuse to rush her off the phone. He tossed his phone onto the other end of the couch as he leaned up, shaking his head. A nap was out of the question at this point. His mother, having gotten him worked up by the end of the conversation, ended the call with saying she’d be visiting soon, but wasn’t sure when.
“I’ m so sick of hearing that stuff,” Darren groaned to himself.
As he got up and made his way to the kitchen where he put together a lunch meat sandwich, all the references to him being over thirty and single with no children started creeping back into his mind. Sure, it was something he thought about often; however, the busier he was with everything else, the less of a priority getting married and having children seemed. Still, ,he couldn't ignore what had been happening around him with regards to his friends in Chicago.
Tommy married whats-her-name a couple of years after we graduated. He seems happy. Got a baby. Wife still in-shape. Then there’s Rachel. She’s already been married twice, got those two little kids. Saw her at that gala, married to that dude who works at the bank. Looking a little tired, now.
As Darren ate his sandwich, he thought about all of his peers who’d gone on and gotten married then had children. In some ways he felt left out. Then again, with the kind of life he had going with having to branch off and build his own part of the family business, his success more than made up for what he was missing when it came to getting married and having a family. Still, the idea of marriage scared him. In fact, whenever the last few girlfriends he had brought up the idea, he slowly pulled away as to not get to close to them or lead them on to thinking such a thing was in the cards.
I could lose everything… She could wind up taking the kids because she’s mad. What if she only loves me for the money? I could wind up like what’s-his-name...dude had his entire career ruined by a false accusation because the chick wasn’t happy with something. He was married to her and everything and she still did that. If I marry the wrong woman, she could really ruin my life. He thought about his properties, his business investments, and his other goals he still hadn’t accomplished. So much to lose, so little to gain by getting married.
***
Sherry slammed the glass of ice down under the tap then pushed the lever. She rubbed the sides of her head, wondering why her jaws tingled with that ugly nauseous feeling. For the last couple of days, she’d been waking up not feeling herself. In the beginning, she thought it was a cold or worse, a flu, coming on. She chugged some cold syrup, felt better for a while, then the same queasy feeling would come back. Now, here she was at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night and feeling like she shouldn’t have come to work. She was tired, a bit irritable, and the sick feeling just wouldn’t go away.
“Sherry, you all right?” Carl, the shift manager at The Blue Ivy asked.
“Yeah, I’m alright… Why?” Sherry looking up and across at the pudgy man.
Carl pointed toward the tap, drawing Sherry’s attention to the overflowing beer. Foam ran down the sides of the glass.
“Oh, damn,” Sherry said. She quickly pulled the glass away, wiped the sides, then set it on a tray for the waitress to come and grab. As she moved on to making the next drink, Carl approached her and grabbed her arm gently.
“Sherry, I can tell you’re not feeling well or something,” he said. “Maybe you have a bug or something, but I think you should probably just call it a night and go on home and get some rest. I’ll let you go on and leave now while it’s not snowing.”
At first, Sherry insisted she could stay because she needed the money. However, before she could even get Carl to walk away, the queasiness came on once again. Finally, she agreed to go. Carl allowed her to get a meal to take home then watched from the back window as she walked out into the snow-dusted parking lot and climbed into her Toyota.
Sherry’s ride home felt longer than usual, much like her ride to work. There were a couple of times, especially shortly after crossing the river, she felt like she would have to pull over and throw up. She pushed through and made it home, slamming her apartment door shut and glad that she made it without throwing up. After several minutes of her jaws tingling, the feeling finally subsided. Sherry stood up off of her couch so she could close her blinds. She then called her best friend Chrissy, who had been texting her earlier.
“Hello?” Chrissy answered.
“Hey, Chrissy, it’s me,” Sherry said. “Sorry I didn’t text you back earlier, but I got kinda busy up at the bar.”
“Sherry, you don’t sound real upbeat like usual,” Chrissy pointed out. “I remembered you said you weren’t feeling good in the text earlier, but I don’t know now.”
Sherry went into explaining how this feeling still hadn’t gone away after a few days. This morning, she’d woken up early so she could rush to the bathroom and throw up. She then talked about how it ruined her plans to go to the mall earlier in the day and buy some new clothes to replace those that were starting to get a little too tight. She finished off with saying how she still wanted to hang out with Chrissy and share a bottle of wine like she promised they would sometime this week.
“Sherry, um,” Chrissy started, hesitantly. “I don’t know how to say this, but...”
“But what?” Sherry asked. “What is it you gotta say, Chrissy? You know I hate when you talk like this.”
“Well, um,” Chrissy said then swallowed nervously. “Do you think that maybe you’re...you’re...pregnant?”
“Pregnant?” Sherry asked. The word rolled around in her mind – a word she hadn’t thought about in years since her last boyfriend. “Chrissy, no. Why would you ask something like that?”
Just as Chrissy got a few sentences into explaining, she cut herself off and said, “I’m on the way, Sherry. I’m on the way. I’m going to stop and get a pregnancy test and be on my way.”
“Chrissy, no,” Sherry said. “It’s probably going to start snowing and stuff. And I seriously doubt that I’m pregnant. Look, you know the weather is changing and stuff. I’m probably just getting sick and need to take a couple days’ rest or something.”
Chrissy wasn’t hearing it. After some back and forth, Sherry finally accepted that her friend was on the way with a pregnancy test. She had even started repeating over and over that she wasn’t pregnant and that doing all of this is silly.
While Sherry waited on Chrissy to come knocking at the door, she straightened up around her apartment. A stack of unopened mail had been building on her table, so she shoved it into a Kroger bag and tossed it onto the kitchen table. She made her bed then gathered up some of the piles of clothes. When she’d finally stepped into the bathroom to see what needed to be tidied up in there, she found herself stuck in front of the mirror and fixed on her own reflection. She took note of the her weight gain; the fatigued look in her face. “Pregnant?” She took a deep breath in thought.
Twenty minutes passed until there was a knock at the door. Sherry let Chrissy in, looking down at the Walgreen’s bag in her hand. Her heart thumped; the pr
egnancy test seemed to be the only thing in the bag. Nervousness overcame her. She sat down on the couch with Chrissy consoling her after they hugged and said their hellos.
“I really don’t think I am, Chrissy,” Sherry insisted. “I mean, I hope I’m not. God, I hope I’m not. I can’t afford a child right now just working at the bar thirty hours, if that, a week. Look at this place. I’m not set up to have a baby.”