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I�ve noticed that everything I write about my relationship with the Artboy becomes a several part saga.
Previously in our story: The Artboy and I kissed and made up. I found out I was pregnant. A hospital tech sounded idiotic. Jim had a sucky birthday. The Artboy called in sick and we headed for the hills�
And now, Part II
We piled into the truck and drove to the Uno�s at the Hanover Mall. The hostess seated us and gave us menus. "I think I need a beer," the Artboy said, smiling at me. "Do you want a glass of wine or something?�Or do you want to hold off on that?" Somehow, I didn�t think wine would work on my empty stomach, pregnant or not.
We ordered and ate, and actually, despite the circumstances, had a very nice dinner. I think we both attempted to put it all out of our heads for a little while. That only worked for so long, though. Eventually, the food was gone, the bill was paid, and the discussion was at hand. We bailed out of Uno�s and drove to the lighthouse in Scituate.
The whole area by the lighthouse is incredibly beautiful. Somehow, just the air there makes me feel better, regardless. Since the tide was too high to sit out on the jetty without getting soaked, we walked along the beach until we found a secluded place to sit. The waves pounding in the background, the Artboy told me that, although he was terrified by the prospect of being a father, he would support whatever decision I made.
We talked about the ways our lives would change if we had the baby. I was working behind the front desk in the hospital, without health insurance until the beginning of the next year due to an HR screwup (my fault, but still scary). He was working full-time in an ice cream store. Neither of us had a child-worthy job. He lived in a house with 8 other people, party central all the time. I had an apartment with two people I hated, and had essentially moved into his bedroom, although my stuff was all still at my house. We weren�t really the picture of stability.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what life would be like if we were parents. I saw myself back home with my mom. I imagined her reaction to the news�she hated the Artboy with an unimaginable passion. I imagined taking off for the day and leaving the baby with the Artboy and then coming home to discover him stoned and the baby�gone? Forgotten? Smoking in the living room? None of it was pretty.
I thought about how stormy the past several months had been. I considered how my trust and faith in the Artboy had been completely destroyed, and what a long, slow road it was back to an okay place. I tried to picture us one year, five years, twenty years down the road. I just couldn�t do it.
I took a deep breath, looked into the Artboy�s eyes and said, "I don�t think I can have this baby."
He sighed. "I wouldn�t say I�m glad to hear you say that, Jennifer, but I don�t know what I would have done if you�d said you wanted to keep it. But if you do, if you change your mind, we�ll figure it out. I promise."
We sat on the beach wrapped around each other and listened to the surf. It was almost loud enough to drown out the voices in my head.
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