John Francis

“Trish, dammit! Let me in!” Richie yelled through the closed bathroom door, kicking the door frame in frustration. He could hear her inside the bathroom, throwing up again, for the fourth day in a row.

Richie had come to see her after leaving Jon’s that afternoon, too angry to want to be on his own. He’d hoped Trish would let him use her for a sounding board again as his frustration in not being to tell Jon the truth about Amanda was making him more than a little crazy. He’d entered her apartment just in time to see her running for the bathroom.

“You need to see a doctor!” He rattled the doorknob once more, in case it had been unlocked when he was shouting. He glared at the door as if he could frighten it into opening and then resumed pacing in front of it.

“Four days you’ve been sick …” he mumbled as he strode in ever-increasing steps. “Every morning you’re in the bathroom, puking up your breakfast, and now you’re doing it in the afternoon …”

He turned and faced the door, arms wide as he shouted once again.

“Every morning you’re sick! Trish, you‘re going to the doctor! You shouldn’t be throwing up every … morning…”

His voice wound down as he actually heard what he was saying. His eyes went wide and he drew in a sharp breath.

Ohhh…shiiiitt. She’s throwing up every morning? Jesus H. Christ…she’s pregnant?

Richie startled when the toilet flushed, his mouth snapping shut. He heard the water faucet turn on, then a moment later the click of the lock being turned. He stepped back as Trish opened the door. Her eyes met his and he watched as the color drained from her face. He reached out and put his hand on her arm, afraid she would faint.

Trish knew from his face that Richie had figured out what was wrong with her. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again, finally shaking her head. She didn’t know what to say. Once the words were spoken it would be real and she would have to deal with it. She would have to let him know what she was going to do - no matter what he said.

Richie took Trish’s hand in his and led her out into her living room. He motioned for her to sit on the couch and she did so without a word.

“Do you want some water?”

Trish nodded her head so hard her hair swirled.

Anything to delay.

“Yes! Please!” She said, her voice a bit louder than she intended it to be.

Richie stood for a moment, still looking at her, then turned toward the kitchen.

Trish slowly let her breath out as she watched him walk away. She was petrified. This was not a discussion she was ready to have yet. She’d wanted more time to prepare - to find the right words - to …

Her thoughts just stopped as Richie returned with the glass of water, the ice cubes clinking softly as he handed the glass to her. Trish took a sip gratefully, her throat dry and tight. Richie sat down on the other end of the couch, facing her. He gave a small cough that was more a beginning of speech than clearing his throat.

“So…” Richie said, then making the same sound, he tried again. “So…” He waved one hand around in an all-encompassing motion, then sighed, giving a small shake of his head.

Trish watched him as he, like she, seemed to be searching for words. Jesus, she was nuts about this man. A small smile crossed her face.

“Richie…,” she began, pausing as she licked her suddenly dry lips, “I’m pregnant.” She started to say more, then bit back the words.

She heard Richie take in a great chest full of air and then blow it softly back out. His voice seemed to take a great deal of time to travel from his throat to her ears.

“And…?” he said.

“And I’ve made up my mind and there’s nothing more to be said about it.” Trish said, nodding for emphasis.

Richie’s eyebrows rose, then lowered ominously.

“What does that mean?” He rose to his feet, agitation beginning to color his voice.

Trish also got to her feet, too nervous to stay in one place.

“It means I’ve done nothing but think about this for days now and I’ve approached it from every angle, as clinically as I could considering how hard it is to remain objective when you, yourself, are the subject and being completely objective is never …”

Richie listened to her ramble on in ever-increasing psychobabble, the complexity of her words increasing as she tried to convince him that she had made her decision.

What she had decided, he had no idea, but she was very sincere.

He tuned back in more fully as he heard “…and I don’t want you to think that you have to do anything…”

Richie raised a hand. “Trish. Stop. Just stop.”

She did, mid-word, her teething making a “thunk” noise as her mouth closed.

“Are you telling me I don’t get a say in this?” Richie said, his jaws doing their own bit of tightening.

Trish’s eyes got wide. “No! That’s not what I mean. I want to hear what you have to say, but no matter what you have to say, I’m …”

Richie shook his head and again held up his hand for her to stop.

“We need to talk about this before you make a decision.”

“Richie, talking about this isn’t going to change my mind.”

“Dammit, Trish! This is not just your decision!” Richie tried to control his voice as it neared a shout.

“Dammit, Richie! I’m the one who has to live with the decision!” Trish’s voice also rose.

Both Richie and Trish stood for a few moments, their breathing the only sound in the room.

Richie sighed loudly. “Ok, let’s both calm down.”

Trish nodded, not trusting her voice as she felt tears prickle behind her eyes. This was not how she wanted to tell him.

“Alright,” Richie began, “we’re two adults here and we can talk this out and …” He stopped as again Trish shook her head.

“What?” Exasperation tinged Richie’s voice. “Why are you shaking your head? Aren’t we adults? Can’t we come to a decision? Can’t we… Trish, you’re not alone here!”

Her chin rising, Trish said, “Yes, we’re adults and yes we can come to a decision, but you’re not understanding that what I do is already decided!”

“So you’re not going to listen to anything I have to say?” Richie said, an incredulous look overtaking his face.

“I’m listening to everything you have to say!”

Richie’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“Trish, you’re not letting me say anything!”

Trish gaped at him.

“You’re telling me you want to discuss this and I’m telling you that I’ve thought about this logically and taken everything into consideration and I‘m …”

Richie yelled just as Trish finished and the words were almost identical.

“… having this baby!”

“What?!” Trish said, not sure she had heard what she thought.

“What did you say?” Richie asked, sure he had not heard her correctly.

“I said, I’m having this baby.” Trish’s voice was suddenly calm, as the words were finally out.

A slow, easy grin spread like honey across Richie’s face.

“Richie? What did you say?”

“The same thing you did, darlin’. We’re having this baby.”

Trish fell that final bit more in love with Richie as she looked at him and burst into tears.

Richie just grinned as he took her in his arms and kissed her tears away.