Together [BL]

3

Somehow I'm a little nervous when I open the bathroom's door this time around. I watch the door swing open for a while before taking a step onto the cold tile floor. I see the old man on the mirror which is a little discouraging to check the new test results.

I looks down and see the double positive results on the pregnancy tests. My eyes return to the old man on the other side of the mirror. His face is indifferent although I can sense some sort of joy in my heart. But why am I happy about a child that I plan to give up?

I throw all four test results in the trash bin and take a shower because it's already six. I'm supposed to be asleep in two hours usually.

It is only after I got out of the shower and dressed for bed that I remember you're preparing dinner. I change out of my pajamas into a casual wear and apply some concealer to hide how dead my face is.

Before I'm done, you knock at the door. I rush to finish and answer you. Your eyes flare up when you see me. It's a version of you I can only recall in the distance past when we were teenagers.

"Thank you for coming to up here to call me. You could've called me on the cellphone."

"I don't have your number," you furrow your brows a little like it's my fault that you don't have my number. Then again, I don't have yours either.

"Sorry. Shall we go down?" I close the door behind me and go down first.

You follow behind. I can feel your eyes watching my feet and your hands preparing to catch me. This is something I notice you do for your lover, I can only assume you'll treasure the child as well. I am firmer in my belief that I've made the right decision.

I pull the chair for myself. Although you frown a little, you go sit in the seat across from me. I guess, having dinner with me must be a chore for you. I wander, what kind of debates you want to start this evening.

"I took a few pregnancy tests. They've came out with positive results. Sorry for doubting you," I say this because dinner so far was filled with silence. However, you only stare at me. I sigh, "I apologize. I didn't know you don't like talking while having dinner."

You look as though you've been taken aback. You rest your utensils and clears your throat, "Obviously. I've been having a sympathetic pregnancy for a little over a month now. I may have stolen some of your hair for testing."

"And they tested that?"

"I had a friend of ours do the analysis." You blush and fidget your fingers. Is this what you do when you're nervous? Or are you telling me a lie?

"Does your lover know I'm pregnant?"

The rose color on your cheeks fades. You pick up the utensils and begin eating again, "Yes. I've told him. I also want partial custody when we divorce."

"About that... I've decided to give you full custody."

You look at me in disgust and drop your utensils. You walk around the table and grab my shoulders, "What has gotten into you! Are you playing mind games with me? Or are you serious?"

"Please take your hands from me," I hunch my back and avert my eyes, hoping that you would let go of my shoulders.

"Am I disgusting to you now?" You draw your hands back and kneel on the floor beside me. You look lost and frustrated. I am not too sure what to do with you.

You watch me steal glances of you without saying a word. Only chuckle at how ridiculous we are. We are strangers, and you finally realize that.

"I'll see you at the office," you say as you get up to leave.

I reach a hand to pinch the back of your shirt.

"What is it that you want?" Your voice is dead and annoyed.

"I'm supposed to ask you for at least one couple therapy."

You raise an eyebrow and begins laughing, "Why so specific? Who's telling you to ask me that?"

"My lawyer."

"I'll go if you let me go to the ultrasound appointment," you snicker, thinking that I would refuse. So I give you a nod. It doesn't matter if you go with me. 

"Then I'll set it up so that we'll go to the ultrasound, then the therapy, and have the rest of the day off. I'll see you at the office."

"I made the appointment on Sunday," I quickly say before he has the chance to leave.

"Cancel it... Actually, Sunday is alright. Tell me when so I can find a couple therapy session around it."

"At ten in the morning."

"I'll pick you up on Sunday."

You easily leave the house. It feels empty again. I wrap up the leftover, do the dishes, and go to bed.

Early the next morning, I start with outdoor chores like mowing the front lawn and trimming the rose bushes. I spray water on the windows and walls before brunch. I eat and then continue to my vegetables and fruit patches in the backyard.

When the sun is too unbearable, I go indoors and mop the floors, wipe the sinks and bathtubs, replace the curtains, vacuum the carpets... It's around six when all I have left is folding laundry.

Maybe I should ask for this house in the divorce. I love it because it's... Yes, it's my dream house. Once the divorce is over, it'll be my home.

I make a spicy salads for dinner and the day is over.

The plans for today is less than yesterday and yet I drag getting out of bed. I don't want to look at myself in the mirror. I don't want to eat breakfast. I don't want the day to start.

Around nine in this morning, you knock at the door. It's refreshing to see you in this house on a weekend. This hasn't happened in the last six years.

You walk me to a red car parked on the driveway. You even open the door for me. You smile as we drive to the appointment. I didn't say anything on the way there because I didn't want to ruin your smile.

I walk and sit like a duck while you open doors for me and check me in. I know I should feel mocked by your actions since I am a man too but because you are my husband I feel appreciated. And I quite like this feeling, but am I allowed to when you have a lover?

"Brother-in-law!" The doctor greets you first even though I am the patient. "I didn't know I was seeing you and..."

"My spouse, Leo."

"Oh. So this one is your spouse," he laughs a little, trying to forget the uneasiness he said and repeated again.

The doctor asks me to lay on the bed while he prepare the props. You move your chair close to me and asks, "May I hold you hand?"

I look at the doctor who assumed I am asking for permission so he nods, "Yes. My patients do so all the time."

"Okay," I answer in a quiet voice and you immediately take my hand into yours. Your hands are big and warm but not sweaty.

You frown at me, "Why are there callous on the palm of your hand?"

"Callous? It must be that I did two days worth of chores in one day, yesterday. They'll go away soon."

Before you can say anything else, the doctor repeats some of the questions asked by the nurse earlier that I've already answered to the best of my knowledge. Then he lifts my shirt and presses the probe that's covered in a goo-like liquid against my stomach. He moves it around, and it feels oddly warm.

I'm too focus on the feeling that I almost didn't notice how glued your eyes are to my stomach and the monitor. Your eyes pace back and forth. You even notice the little human shape on the monitor.