Temporary Secretary

Part 26

16 April 1981

6:00pm Thursday

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Paul was busy during the day, and so were you, but he called each day that week after work.

After you parted last Sunday, he'd asked you to meet the coming weekend to speak face to face, and further sort things out.

You weren't sure what more there was to say over the phone. You'd told him what he'd asked for the previous week. There wasn't a lot to update him on day to day other than "Yes, the kid's still alive. I am also. I remembered to eat today. I'm better at that now."

Something peculiar you noticed was that Paul's tone was less playful than you were used to, more direct, even if it was still pleasant and light. That made enough sense. It wasn't really a humorous topic.

Evidently, Paul seemed more invested in the kid than you'd expected. That was good, you supposed, better than uninvolvement, and for the kid to have two parents rather than one..

After work, things went along as they had. You'd returned home, being able to finally lie down on your sofa, head spinning, holding the headset to your ear, entertaining Paul's questions.

"Are you holding up alright?"

"The same as yesterday..." You said lazily. "And the day before..."

Meaning fatigued, dizzy, sick. Actually, feeling hungrier than before, the nausea subsiding some. A miracle, though some scents would still cause you to double over in rejection, and if you ate too much, you'd feel an uncomfortable fullness, evidently less room down there as it grew.

Paul hummed over the phone, seemingly pleasant.

"How does it feel?"

You groggily made a face. What sort of question was that?

"What sort of question is that?"

Paul made one of his low giggles, albeit brief.

"Can you feel it?"

Your face worsened.

"No." You said. "Move you mean..? Won't for a while I think."

You were apprehensive of that. Getting kicked from the inside, something moving around beneath your skin. Terrifying, really. Those books weren't very reassuring, no matter what flowery prose they put in about your "little one," always calling it a "he" or "she." You wouldn't even know what it was until it came out.

Well, you did feel the tightness. It sort of made your skin crawl, becoming conscious of what was really happening down there. A little anxiety-inducing for what was to come. It'd only get bigger. You tried to eat smaller, though more frequent meals.

"Oh." Paul said, as if he wanted such further information. Couldn't imagine why.

"Are you alright there?" He said. "In your flat, I mean."

"Course."

He paused.

"You're working?" He said.

"Yes." You said. "The new position, like I said."

Another pause from him.

"Right."

He continued, his tone lighter.

"I've cleared the weekend so we could speak again." Paul said. "Does Saturday work?"

No, you had to go out clubbing, actually. Gorge yourself on drugs and alcohol. Maybe hit up the strip tease places... to watch, or to perform. Whichever caught your fancy that night.

"Yes." You said.

"Right. Face to face would probably be best for such a thing. Can't talk about all this over the phone, y'know?"

"Talk about what?" You said.

Paul faltered at the question.

"Well, what else?" He said. "What we're going to do about it."

"You... want to keep it?" You said, already knowing as much.

"Yes." He said, a bit sharply at it being asked yet again.

"Right." You said.

You felt nauseous again.

If he wanted to know every little detail so badly, why didn't he just take over for you? You'd very much be content letting him experience it all for himself.

In fact, that seemed to make more sense. It'd suit you both much better. He could live out the miracle of conception, and you could be the one to dote and fuss over him. Somehow it'd gotten all muddled up in the process.

You weren't supposed to lay on your back after a point, but... that wasn't for a while, wasn't it? You usually woke up on your side, but fell asleep on your back.

"Are you still afraid?"

Paul's voice was softer, taking you off guard. You opened your eyes, blurrily looking up at your ceiling.

You contemplated lying, just for the sake of your pride, but decided not to do so for once. He might as well know.

"Yeah..."

A short silence.

"...you'll be alright. Promise."

He seemed sincere enough. Felt good to hear.

You knew he likely didn't know what else he could say to help. You didn't blame him, you didn't really know either.

He spoke again, a bit hesitant.

"But... even with the fear, you're not happy about it?"

That made you sit upright, quite taken aback.

"Happy?"

Paul hummed, his voice was mellow.

"Yeah."

Your silence led Paul to elaborate.

"Well, you're only looking at the negatives it seems." He said. "True, worries are natural, but you don't have any positive feelings toward it?"

He paused, then continued.

"I mean, it's a child of your own. New life. Exciting, isn't it?"

Evidently, though you were the one dealing with it's existence inside you, hyper-aware of it, he saw it as more real than you did. He was already thinking of it as a child.

Well, happy or not, it was arbitrary. It was what it was, and you felt responsibility toward it. Something bigger than yourself. You would make sure it was cared for. What else was there to do? Evidently, it would be born.

"You get to feel it grow inside you too... and move..."

You felt a bit sick. Paul was speaking almost longingly. Hell, maybe he did want it. You'd be beyond happy to indulge him if you could. Oh... if only...

You could technically see the appeal in it, the connection, sure. That it'd hear your voice, and know you once it was born. But you also felt the gravity of sickness and dread of it getting bigger. It was parasitic almost. Your energy would be taken, bloodflow, oxygen, all that, and then it'd be a weight and size on your body.

You paused.

"Are you happy about it?" you said.

He paused.

"Yeah." He said.