Yes Please || c.g. {complete}

The F Word

49

.Carl.

I realized in that exam room that I couldn't stand the thought of her terminating the pregnancy. I didn't know if I could handle it. I'd never been faced with something like this, and I wasn't at all emotionally prepared for it.

She and I created a life together. We hadn't meant to, but we'd done it. They way we'd done it was amazing and beautiful, and if half the genes came from Layla, I knew the baby would be too. How was it that I had gone from freaking out about the mere possibility of her being pregnant, to feeling like this when I knew she was?

"Carl?" I heard her ask.

"Huh?" I turned my gaze back to her. "Oh, uh...what other options does she have?"

Layla shot me a strange look as the doctor began to discuss adoption and keeping the baby.

"She has time to decide, right?" I asked afterward.

Another weird look from Layla.

"Yes, plenty of time," the doctor replied. "Although, the abortion is easier the earlier in the pregnancy we are able to do it, since the fetus is smaller."

We thanked the doctor and she gave Layla instructions to set up a follow-up appointment before she left the room.

We left the exam room without another word, and she stopped at the front desk to schedule another appointment a few weeks out.

When we got to the car, she laid into me.

"What the fuck was that?" she cried.

I sighed. "What?"

"What happened to you supporting my decision?" she demanded.

"I do," I replied unconvincingly.

She sighed angrily. "Why did you act so weird when she told me about abortion? You said you would support me. Instead, you asked what other choices there were, and if I could have more time to decide!"

I stared at the road, my jaw tense.

"Seriously, Carl, what the hell?" she pleaded.

I sighed heavily. "If you have time to make a decision, why wouldn't you take it?"

She crossed her arms. "You heard her; abortion later on is harder because the fetus is bigger."

"Stop calling it a fetus," I muttered.

"That's what it is, Carl!" she exclaimed in frustration.

"When you call it that, I feel like you can detach yourself from it emotionally," I explained sadly.

She looked over at me. "Is there some reason I shouldn't?"

I just stared ahead, turning onto our street.

"Carl, why are you acting like this?" she asked, her tone full of concern.

I avoided answering her before I parked the car and we got out. I walked hastily into the building and up to her apartment. She trailed behind me silently until she shut the door behind us.

"Carl Gallagher, you need to fucking talk to me," she demanded, standing in front of the exit.

The dogs were going nuts to see us, and I allowed them to be my distraction. "Let me take them out first, okay?"

She opened her mouth the protest, but rolled her eyes and stepped aside while I took them out.

I walked slowly around the block, my head a complete clusterfuck of emotions. I was scared. I was excited. I was angry. I was elated. I was confused as all hell.