The Trap (Trapped Prequel)

Chapter 8

Paige

I didn’t know four months could pass so slowly. A snail’s pace would be the apt term. I guess that’s how it feels when you’re pregnant. You watch the clock all the time.

It took me three months to stop expecting to hear from Mitch. School started back over a month ago so I’m sure he’s right back in the swing of things. It’s obvious he’s doesn’t care about me…or the baby.

I forcefully push those thoughts out of my mind as I drop my book bag at the front door, thankful it’s the tail end of a long day. Monday and Wednesdays are killers. I have four classes. The first class starts at 8:05 in the morning, and the last one isn’t over until after five.

It was weird going back to college pregnant, especially now that I’m showing. There’s no hiding it behind roomy blouses or thick sweaters. The bump is small but it’s prominent as I’m not a big girl to begin with. Although if you ask my mom and Erin, you can’t tell I’m pregnant from behind. Is that supposed to make me feel better?

Like most commuters, I haven’t made that many friends at the community college but the few I talk to and eat lunch with have been really supportive. Julie and Allison know all about Mitch. They only met him once and, reacting to him the way most girls do, declared him swoon-worthy. Julie teasingly told me I was one lucky bitch. Not so lucky now. We don’t talk about him anymore.

Tonight, my mom won’t be home until late. She has two showings and then she’s going out to dinner with Randy, which means I’m on my own for dinner. That’s okay. These days, I love having the house to myself a couple days a week. 

I head to the kitchen and ponder what I’m going to do with the chicken I’d taken out this morning when the doorbell rings.

My stomach does that flippity-flop thing and my heart speeds up. Logically, I know it’s not him. It’s not. But I can’t help the way my body reacts to unexpected phone calls and doorbells. Or a car pulling into my driveway when both Mom and I are home. I hate the way it reacts.

I turn and trudge back to answer the door. It’s probably some guy selling Kirby vacuum cleaners.

No, it’s not a sales guy nor is it Mitch, but it’s as close to my ex as it’s probably ever going to get.

“Diane.” Her name leaves my mouth on a puff of air.

But she’s not staring at me—at least not at my face. Her eyes are glued to my bump. If I look surprised to see her, she’s beyond shocked to see me in my condition.

Mitch never told her. That much she’s just confirmed.

Her eyes are enormous in her oval face when her gaze snaps to mine. “You-you’re pregnant,” she stammers. Poor thing. I feel sorry for her. It has to be hard finding out this way.

I step back and open the door farther. “Would you like to come in?”

Without replying, she enters the foyer, her gaze repeatedly darting from my face to my bump.

“Mitch didn’t say anything?”

Lips parted, she shakes her head. Clearly she’s in shock. “It’s his baby,” she finally utters.

I want to laugh. Mitch doubts me but his sister knows without having to ask. I staunch the deep well of hurt I’ve learned to bury.

She pushes back her shoulders and emits a heavy sigh. “I came to ask you if you knew what is going on with Mitch. His coach called last week to inform me that his grades are slipping and he’s been missing practice. If this continues, he’s going to have to drop him from the team. He wanted me to talk to him. I’ve tried but I can’t get anything out of him.” Again, her eyes go to my stomach. “Since this started after you guys broke up, I thought I could get some information from you. I thought maybe you could talk to him… But now I see what’s going on with him.”

The baby kicks just then. My hand instinctively goes to the place on my stomach.

Alarm flares in Diane’s eyes and I smile wanly. “It’s okay. She’s just practicing for the soccer game later tonight.”

“She? It’s a girl?” she asks and it’s almost painful to witness the yearning in her eyes.

I nod and continue to rub the spot where my baby is exercising her kicking leg.  For a second, Diane looks dazed. It appears to take a bit of effort for her to wrench her gaze from my baby bump and back up to my face.

“I-I-I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” I assure her. I don’t expect her to congratulate me or pretend to be happy. This is her baby brother a year out of high school having a baby. I get that.

“I don’t understand. Why isn’t Mitch here? Why aren’t you two together anymore?”

Good question.

But what do I tell her? I mean I like Diane a lot but we’re not that close. I decide to keep it simple and be as honest as the circumstances warrant. “Mitch blames me for this.” I cradle my stomach protectively with both hands. “He thinks I got pregnant on purpose.”

I wait for Diane to ask the obvious question.

“He’s going to be a father. He doesn’t have a choice,” she says instead, her tone obstinate and firm.

“No. No,” I state adamantly. “I don’t want him here if he doesn’t want to be here. And he’s made it obvious that he doesn’t want to be a father to this baby. Honestly, I’ll be fine. My mom is going to help me so I’ll be fine.”

A look of hurt crosses Diane’s face. “This baby is m-my niece. She has cousins and an uncle who are going to want to be a part of her life even if Mitch doesn’t.”

I’m immediately hit by a pang of remorse at how thoughtless I must have sounded. “Diane, I didn’t mean that I don’t want you—”

“Paige, I will be here for you,” she says, and gently brushes my hair over my right shoulder.  “I want to be part of my niece’s life. And I want to do whatever I can to help you. Babies aren’t cheap and at the very least, you’re going to need some financial assistance.”

My first instinct is to turn her down. My baby isn’t her problem. But then I think of my mom and how much having this baby is going to change her life. She shouldn’t have to bear the brunt of her daughter’s unplanned pregnancy alone.

It’s not as if this is Randy—who’s already offered to help out financially—this is the father’s family. And I didn’t make this baby by myself.

“Thank you,” I whisper, grateful for the offer.

Dropping her hand to her side, Diane smiles. We stand there awkwardly for another few moments.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you.” She moves her purse to her other shoulder.

I nod and give her a small smile and hope it somehow conveys the depth of my appreciation. I follow her back to the door. Before she leaves and I chicken out, I ask, “Are you going to tell Mitch you saw me? That you know?”

Of course she is. How could she not? But something in me can’t help but ask it anyway.

 “He’s my brother, Paige,” Diane says softly, almost sadly.

“Right,” I respond with a hard nod.

She pauses. “When is the baby due?”

“December sixteenth.”

Her eyebrows go up and a genuine smile appears on her face. “A Christmas baby.”

I give a little laugh. “Yep.”

“Okay then, I’ll be in touch.”

We share a look, another smile and then she’s gone. After she pulls out of the driveway, I return her wave and close the door. I internally brace myself for what’s coming next.

And do you know what came next? What happened when Mitch’s sister confronted him about the baby?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.