The Black Queen

Twentieth Entry

August 12, 1986

I don't really know where to start off. I had a bit of a surprise, and so did Roger. I found out a week after the boys went off tour. It had made sense. I was always feeling nauseous and I had been craving food I wouldn't usually eat. I thought it was really weird. I soon found out that I'm pregnant with Roger's child. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all. We already had enough of a story. An affair AND a baby? That just adds more complications. The first thing I decided to do was to abort it. Abort it before news got out. Abort it. That's all I could think about. I heard a knock on the door. I assumed it was one of the photographers.

"Who is it?" I asked

"Dahlia, it's me, Marty"

"Marty?" I ran to the door and opened it. Marty came in and hugged me. All I was able to do was cry into his chest. I cried and cried out of regret and sadness. I felt like a traitor, like I am a horrible person. He stroked my hair and calmed me down.

"Come on" he said. "Let's sit down." We both sat down on the couch. "When did this all start?" I told him everything. He seemed to have a stunned expression on his face. "Woah. Dahlia this is really crazy."

"And that's not all"

"Oh Jesus" He covered his mouth with his hand. He looked at me waiting for an answer.

"I found out that I'm pregnant."

"Oh no.." He didn't say anything else. I don't think he could say anything else. I was right. This just got a lot more complicated.

"You need to tell him"

"I'm not going to tell him because I'm not going to keep the baby"

"It doesn't matter whether you keep it or not, he's the father he needs to know what he's done." He was right. It would be horrible to let Roger never know he had another baby, an unborn baby in this case. I went into my room and dialed his number.

"Hello"

"Roger, it's Dahlia"

"What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you Roger it's very important."

"Just make it quick, all right?"

"I'm pregnant, Roger"

"...what?" The tone in his voice completely changed. He went from being enraged to a whimpering little boy. "Y-you're pregnant?"

"Well, not for long"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not keeping the baby. I'm going to abort it"

"No, no you can't do that"

"I can, it's my choice."

"Please, please don't" I heard his voice begin to crack up.

"This baby will cause more problems with the press"

"Fuck the press! Fuck them! It doesn't matter, that's my baby!"

"It's mine too, but I've made my decision. I'm sorry, Roger. Good bye" I hung up the phone. I laid on my bed for a while, thinking about the baby. The baby. The baby. I couldn't stop thinking about it. But why? Why do I feel so connected to it? Why am I so attached to it? This strange being inside me. It was mine. Then I realized: I don't want to lose this. This was my child. It was MINE. I was its mother.

I came out of my room. Marty was sitting on the couch. He turned when I came out.

"I've decided to keep the baby. I don't care what you think, I'm keeping it."

"And the press? How are you gonna cope with them?"

"I'll find a way"

"If you want, I'll stay with you, take care of you, I'll find a job for the meantime. Get you bigger space for the baby."

"Thank you, Marty. That's means a lot for me. I could use that kind of help." I smiled. I placed my hands on top of my flat belly. I peeked out the window.

"Oh boy, are you in for a ride when you enter this world" I whispered