Chapter 3
I entered the office later that day, practically clinging to my
purse as if it was my
only hold to life itself. Its near noon, and Im glad
to see the office is semi-vacant, lunch
hour was my Godsend today. Somehow as I walk toward my desk, I
can almost feel eyes on me, and yet I know no one is looking.
Youre paranoid, Dana. Nobody knows.
Nobody knows youre pregnant.
I approach my desk and find Mulder at his computer, staring
intently at the screen.
As I drop my purse on my desk with a gentle thud, Mulder looks up
with a smile.
"Level 14, Scully," he replied, then appears concerned.
"Are you feeling better?"
The question is caring and gentle, yet at that very moment tears
threaten to escape my
eyes.
"Yes." A short answer, one Mulder doesnt look
completely satisfied with, but it
will have to do. Im not going to talk to him now. The walls
have ears. And in the FBI,
they have more ears then you can count.
Yes, maybe I am a little paranoid. After working with Mulder for
six years, I have
picked up a habit or two. But now I have a secret that right now
is threatening to take
away all of my control. Control has always been something I was
proud of. Thats why it hit me hard with the cancer. It was
in control. But I didnt let it control me. I wasnt
going to let a little thing like being pregnant make me fall to
pieces.
Ha! Since when have I thought being pregnant was a little thing?
Mulders looking at me now, and all I can see the concern on
his face. Mulder,
please dont ask whats wrong. Not today.
"Scully, are you sure you are okay? Maybe you need some more
time off."
I breath a little easier. At least he didnt ask me what was
wrong. I force myself
to smile. "Im fine, Mulder," I reply and get the
urge to kick myself for using the same-
old tired sounding line I always use. That we both always use.
Its become something of a joke for us.
He nods. "So it was just the flu?" he asks casually as
he turns back to the
computer, which was now displaying a message saying he had mail.
"Yes," I lie, "Its all gone now." Oh,
Mulder if only you knew. If only I could tell
you. But not yet. But I will.
I sit back in my chair and watch him open his mail. Somewhere in
the fantasy part
of my brain, I imagine a child with the same hazel eyes and sense
of humor. I can feel
myself smile at the thought, but then questions come along with
it.
Does Mulder want to be a father?
What if I tell him and he never wants to talk to me again?
And then a very paranoid question. Was my getting pregnant was
part of "their"
plans?
I distractedly turn on my own computer screen and shove the
thought onto a dusty
shelf in my mind. That way I wouldn't have to think about it.
Won't have to face it.
Damnit, Dana, I curse myself. I have to think about it.
Mulder's so engrossed in his e-mail that he doesn't notice my
disposition and for
once I'm glad he's not the most incisive person in the world.
I'm pregnant. The sentence echoes in my head, like a bad dream.
Yet, it's not a
bad dream, it's a miracle. Yes, my own little miracle. Growing
inside of me. The thought sends a warm feeling through my body
and down to my toes.
A girl. That's what I want. A little girl. Parents aren't
supposed to have
preferences, they just want a healthy baby. But me, secretly I
hope it's a girl. One who
can look at me with her father's eyes and tell me about how she
thinks the kid down the
street is plotting against her.
Yes, it would make the perfect Hallmark commercial.
I have to stop daydreaming. This is real life. And Hallmark-style
lives don't
happen to women who are afraid to tell the one person who matters
most that she's
pregnant. No, it doesn't happen at all.
I remember a time when I was little, and woman's daughter next
door died. All my
neighbor would do was cry, and flowers with sympathies were
always arriving at her
doorstep. Yet my mother said sadly that it was a blessing in
disguise. I just looked at her like she was crazy. She smiled,
and told me about how the little girl was very sick, with
terminal cancer (a memory that now still chills me a little) and
that it was only a matter of time before she died. She was
suffering greatly, my mother said, and it was better she was gone
now then later, because now she was in heaven with no suffering.
I had nodded my head and tried to understand. A blessing in
disguise. I glanced toward Mulder, who was now back into his
Doom™ game. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. But it
was hiding itself well.
I let my chin rest in my hands and knew I wouldnt tell him
today. Hell, I probably
wouldnt tell him tomorrow. And the day after that was iffy.
What was I scared of?
Well, let me just check my check list.
Oh, yeah. There are a lot of things to be scared of. A hell of a
lot. And I didnt
even mention telling my mother.
Or worst yet, telling my brother.
Scared wasnt the word I was looking for anymore. Terrified
was more like it.
I shifted through my paperwork, and let my mind wander into work.
It was so
much easier to avoid something rather then face. God knows I was
doing a lot of that
lately.
A week and a half later
A week went by, a last faster then I thought it would. The
morning sickness was
horrible, and almost every morning I found myself waking up and
running to the bathroom to make it in time. Nobody told me it
would this bad.
I had begun to eat Saltines®, and whoever said they help morning
sickness is sadly
mistaken. I felt like throwing the entire box of crackers into my
bedroom wall, and came
very close to it one day. Regardless of the fact that the
crackers werent helping, I
continued to consume them; Id gone through a box in about 3
days. At this rate I should probably buy stock in the company.
It was now the weekend, another Sunday was here. Another Sunday
where the
first thing I did was puke my guts out. Lovely.
Mulder still had no idea. I hide things well, I must admit. I
could hide my bad
days with the cancer from Mulder, and I could hide my morning
sickness from Mulder.
When he commented on my coffee breakfast my response was,
"Maybe I am picking up some of your bad habits."
I wasnt going to tell him until it was absolutely
necessary. Like when my water
broke and it was time. Who are you fooling, Dana?
A glance at my clock told me it was 9:33 a.m. I walked out of the
bathroom for
the third time this morning, and took a long look toward the
Saltines sitting on my bureau. Could I go through another month
and a half like this? Or worst yet, longer? My medical school
brain told me that morning sickness usually disappears by the
third month, but that same brain told me that that wasnt
always the case for all women.
Im cursing my "never follow the crowd" way of
thinking right now.
I hear a knock at my door.
"Dana?"
My mom. Shit.
I love my mom, I really do. Its just that I wasnt
really up to company right now.
But that wasnt even the reason I didnt want to see
her. The reason is my mother has the knack for guessing
whats wrong. Like guessing Im pregnant. And knowing
my
mothers track record, shes usually right on the
money. Thats why I couldnt lie to her
as a kid. As an adult, I learned that avoiding her was the only
way to successfully lie.
Well, I dont think that plan is successful anymore.
The knock repeats itself and I stare out my bedroom door, not
wanting to rise
from my position on the bed.
"Dana?"
Ok, shes getting impatient now. That I know. And my
thoughts are confirmed as
I hear a key turn and my door open.
"Dana?" This time the voice comes my living room. The
thought of facing my
mother right now is bringing the nausea back.
"Dana, why didnt you answer?"
She is now standing in the doorway of my bedroom, looking at me
sitting on the
bed. Her eyebrow raises slightly in the position I have given
Mulder on more then a
million different occasions. He wonders where I get it from.
"I guess I just didn't hear it," I answer lamely,
knowing my mother will see right
throw it.
I'm right. "Dana are you feeling all right?"
She looks at me with the typical mother look, a combination of
love and concern.
I love my mother, I really do, but right now I really wish she
wasn't here.
She pulls the mother act. Walks into my room and before I know it
her hand is on
my forehead. I think of the groans Mulder is always giving my I
do this to him. Maybe I
should learn to be a little easier on him. But then again, it's
usually a big illness with
Mulder. I'm just pregnant. Not sick. Just pregnant.
"Mom." I push her hand away. "I'm fine."
Her eyes narrow at me, as if she is studying every inch of me
before coming to her
conclusion.
"Dana, for someone who is usually up and ready by 8:30 a.m.
on a Sunday, you
are not fine."
I don't answer that. Damn my early bird attitude. It's not
something I wanted to
adopt. My father was an early bird, a military man usually is. I
was up every school day by 6, and on the weekends, it was rare
for me to sleep past 8. No wonder my mom
thought something was wrong.
"Mom, I'm fine really," I try to reinforce. Her eyes
scan the room and fall on the
object I probably should have shoved into the drawer. The
Saltines.
I can see her mind working. She's putting the pieces together in
her head. I look
down at the floor, another bout of nausea filling my stomach.
This time I'm not sure it's
from the morning sickness or from the fact that my mother is
close to discovering what's
wrong with me. I don't know which feeling is worse.
She walks over to the bureau and picks up the box. The scene when
she
discovered I had cancer is running through my head. I half expect
her to yell at me. I
know she knows. Or at least suspects. The nausea is having a
field day with my stomach.
She doesn't yell. In fact she doesn't say a word. She's silent as
she walks toward
the bed and sits next to me, the box of Saltines in her hand.
"Dana?"
I look up like a little girl whose been caught with her hands in
the cookie jar.
"Yes?"
My stomach does a flip-flop and this time I'm not going to get
around it. I stare at
the bathroom door and now I am going to find myself inside of it
in the near future and
then my mom will have all the proof she needs.
"Dana, are you-"
I don't hear the rest of her question as I quickly get up from
the bed and rush into
the bathroom. I know that it's not lady-like and goes against all
the manners my mother
have talk me to interrupt a conversation by running off to vomit.
But she's my mother and she's seen worse.
Though I can't think of a worse right now. In fact I can't think
of anything right
now. I'm too busy throwing up the Saltines I ate.
I hear the door turn and now my mother is coming in. Memories of
her holding
but my hair as I got sick as a child fill my mind as I sit back
against the wall. But I'm not a child anymore. Still she bends
down and brushes the stray hair out of my face.
"How far along are you?" she asks, as she sits down
next to me. That's what I
love about my mother. She's always there for me even when I don't
want her. But now
that she knows, I'm glad she's here. Funny how your mind can do a
360 in just a few
minutes.
"About seven weeks," I reply, staring toward the wall.
I know what question will
follow.
"Who's the father, Dana? I didn't think you were seeing
anyone."
That's right, Mom. I'm not seeing anyone. That's how my life has
become. Screw
my partner and yet I'm still not "seeing" him. That's
my life.
I don't answer her, I just let my gaze fall to the floor.
"It's Fox, isn't it?"
Damn, my mother. She's good. The FBI should think about hiring
her. Mulder
would be pretty impressed how much she can get out of people with
a simple "mother"
look.
I nod, quietly.
"How long have you been dating?"
Dating, Mom? Gee, I think we forgot to do that somewhere along
the line.
"We're not, Mom."
"Youre not?"
She looks at me with a look of confusion mixed with
disappointment. I think
somewhere in my mothers head she has always been trying to
fix me up with Mulder.
Well, I know thats not going to happen. Especially when I
cant get enough courage to
tell him hes going to be a daddy.
And that Im going to be a mommy.
"Were not," I tell my mom, and let out a long
sigh. Thankfully my mother seems
to understand. She gets up, knowing I will tell in good time, and
offers a hand up off the
floor. I may not be able to lie to my mother, but avoiding
subjects in my middle name. As I walk back into my bedroom and
sit on the bed, my mom asks another question.
"Does he know?"
My mom sure knows which questions to ask today.
"No." I answer the question truthfully and quickly,
hopefully she will give me time
to come around with the details. I have to give her credit; she
seems to back off a little.
"I think Ill make you some tea. It helped me when I
was pregnant. Why dont
you take a shower," she says and leaves me for a minute.
Im grateful for the time to pull myself together.
Thirty minutes later I join my mother in my kitchen, my hair wet,
but feeling much
better. My mother has even started breakfast.
"Mom, I dont think-"
"Its just toast, Dana. Not too much."
My mother knows me better then myself sometimes.
She sits down at my table, looking as if she has a hundred
questions. I dont feel
like answering a hundred questions. She seems to know that, too.
She watches me sit down and pick at my food. After taking a long
sip of her own
coffee, she looks at me, with a look a couldnt really
describe. A disappointed look yet
there was something else. I expected my mother to be a bit
disappointed. I knew she
expected to get grandchildren after a man had put a ring around
my finger. Well, I always was different. Her face holds something
more than that feeling, though. Its almost as if she
was
..smiling.
She catches my stare and takes another sip of her coffee.
"If it helps any Dana, congratulations," she says with
a small smile, that turns into
something Ive never really seen my mother do before: grin.
"I want a granddaughter, Dana. Bill and Charlie both gave me
boys, and while
theyre great, nothing beats a little girl."
My mother wants a girl? The happiness and acceptance of that
sentence hit before
the reality did. I somehow pictured my mother acting differently,
and Ive learned she
continues to surprise me. My mother, full of surprises.
A little girl. That would be nice. Now Ive got two votes,
counting my own for a
little girl. Hopefully Mulder will chime in and make it three.
They say men all want sons, but I think Mulder is a little
different. I bet hed make her daddys little girl and-
What the hell am I thinking?? Ive havent even told
him. He may not even want a
child.
Im back to square one. Who was it that said pregnancy
brought a world of joy?
To me, it was bringing a world of problems. I cant really
blame it though, I was the one
who got myself into the situation.
But it takes two to tango.
But Im going to be doing the tango alone unless I tell him.
And everyone knows
the tango is easier with two people.
My mother looks at me with another look of concern.
"Dana, are you sure you are all right?"
No Mom, Im not. I open my mouth to answer, but nothing
comes. Call it
hormones, but I end up doing something I havent really done
in front of my mother in
years. I sit there and burst into tears.
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