A Baby By Bestie

1: The Truth Stinks

"So, what brings you here so early, Ms Johansson?" My therapist and close friend Samantha stretched out on the small love seat opposite to me.

I couldn't control the sigh that left me as I lowered myself into the matching burgundy sofa. "I don't know. Can't I come to visit my friend?"

"You usually do friendly visits at my house or Stevie's nightclub on the weekends." She pointed out as she reached for her one glass of wine that she usually have first thing before her clients start coming in for the day.

I sighed again. "How're the kids?"

"Probably seasick on some yacht with Jason." Sam rolled her eyes behind her test glasses and drained the content of her glass in one go. I don't think that's how  normal people drink wine, but who was I to judge? She glared at the glass angrily and I instantly regret asking that question. See, this is why I don't do the relationship thing. It makes me sick.

"I'm sorry. But they'll be back next week, right?" I offered a weak smile, attempting to wipe the scary angry face she was making. She was pretty close to turning red like the emoji.

"So what's really up?" She raised a single eyebrow, giving me the no bullshit look.

I ignored it. "I missed you." Honestly, I got out of my house extra early because it was too quiet and I wasn't quite ready to head to my office yet. I helped myself to her morning beverage and let myself relax in my seat.

Samantha watched me keenly for a minute and I knew she was trying to think of the best way to ask me about our last little talk. I'm not sure exactly what I expected from her when I decided to drop by this early, but I wasn't prepared for a therapy session.

"Did you consider what we spoke about last week?" That question. She asks it every time, but the exact structure or phrasing changes every time.

"Yes." Was my short reply. I took a sharp interest in my drink, studying the rich, ref color and how it moves in the glass when I swirl it around. "This thing looks so much like blood. How do you drink this everyday?"

Sam rolled her eyes, "Don't change the subject."

"What do you want from me?" I all but screamed historically. "I just wanted to see you. A little company without you crawling up my ass about some stupid advice."

She held her hands up in mock surrender and a laugh escaped her painted red lips. "Okay, okay. But one day you'll have to admit it."

"What? That you think I need a man?"

"Don't you?"

"What, think I need a man? No."

"No. I mean-"

"Exactly!" I cut her off. "I don't. I've been doing fine on my own."

"I didn't say you weren't. I just think that the reason you fear relationships is because you never learned how to talk about your feelings. Either that or you think they make you weak." She picked up her cute little purple notebook and started scribbling. I'm so not paying for this.

"What are you doing?" I immediately got to my feet and went to sit on the arm of her seat, peering over her shoulder and into the book. I found today's date written at the top of an otherwise empty page.

"Why are you so scared of feeling things?" I guess it was Sam's turn to ignore my question.

"I'm not scared." I huffed and returned to the sofa.

"Okay, sure." She sounded and looked unimpressed.

We stared at each other for a while, watching and interpreting each other's facial expressions and body language. We had a strange kind of relationship where we are really good friends but I've never let her close enough to know me like a best friend would. On the professional level, Sam's my therapist, not that I really need one, if I should say so myself. I just need someone to talk to and she's a great listener so I pay her for it. I could just talk to my mother, but she isn't the listening type of person. Samantha would sometimes give me advices (on a "as a friend" basis) that I usually just push to the back of my mind. It gets on her nerves most times but I can't help it that I do that. Sometimes her suggestions just aren't doable. 

Sam finally broke the silence, probably couldn't take it anymore. I breathed a sigh of relief but I wasn't happy for her question. "Do you want to know the truth?"

I shook my head. "No. The truth stinks."

"You need someone."

"No, I don't."

"Okay, sure. Whatever."

I sighed for the millionth time. Maybe she's making a little sense. But that someone doesn't have to be a partner. Then suddenly I knew what I wanted. And the more I thought about it the more I believed that I've always wanted one.

I turned my attention back Sam and leaned forward. She pursed her lips and gave me a quizzical look. "I know what I need?"

"What?"

"I need a baby."

She sat up straight in her chair and her book slid off her lap and landed on the soft blue and white, polkadoted mat. "You're kidding me."

I shook my head. "No, I'm serious. A baby is perfect. I'd love and care for the little one. And I wouldn't be alone at home anymore. I'd have a relationship, family and someone to feel for!"

"Are you sure about this, Ariadne? This seems like a rushed decision." Sam was a huge skeptic, but I understood her reaction. This was very unexpected.

I nodded. "Yes. And I want to get pregnant."