"That's right, and you can't tell anyone. Not even Timmy. I have to talk to your father first. I owe it to my husband."
Suzie began to cry. "Sarah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to speak out of turn. This is your decision alone. But God, I'd die too if having this baby harms you! It would be my fault, for not telling you what Doug did. Think how horrible I'd feel." Ben came over to console his wife. We were a sorry group.
Karen stepped over to where I was sitting, took the recently opened bottle of beer from my hand, went to the kitchen and poured it down the sink. Suzie, still crying, nodded her approval.
"Good girl," she said, lifting her bottle high and draining it in two long gulps.
I can't for the life of me remember in any detail what we did the rest of the weekend. Maureen and her entire family came over for most of Saturday. They must have spent the day wondering what dumped her hosts into such a god-awful mood, causing them to be barely civil. I'd exacted a promise of silence from Suzie not to tell her daughter of my alleged condition at least until I was out of question asking range and back in Summerside. Alleged? Who's kidding who?
Karen was the only sane one among us with enough common sense to blame our morbidity on the loss of her grandfather, not mentioning we'd never met the man. I'm not sure Maureen bought the excuse but between the rambunctious twins' antics and baby Claire we made it through the day. My niece must have wondered why I passed up beer with my fried clam dinner and kept excusing myself to use the john.
The five of us still in residency on Sunday morning attended mass at the church of my youth. All of us prayed with unusual fervor. An early Sunday dinner was prepared by Karen and Suzie while I mopped around the house, trying to come to grips with my situation. No one seemed to know if they should be glum or celebratory so they compromised by not broaching the subject, ignoring my condition. Everyone was overly solicitous of me, afraid I'd faint from exhaustion if I carried the dirty plates from the table. I managed to keep my temperament non combative and food in my belly, if not wits in my head.
My sister suggested we buy a pregnancy test kit as soon as the drug store opened but I declined, saying I'd wait until I returned to Summerside. Did the fact I didn't know for certain allow me to hope the whole calamity was a bad dream? Talk about your unexpected pregnancy! It's one thing to be surprised, quite another when you know positively it can never, ever happen and then it does! There must be another word for that condition.