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Need A Little Company	By : lewdnotion Category: 1 through F > Cabin Fever Views: 3165 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Cabin Fever, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
It was messed up. Even after 5 days on the open road, with nothing to do but burn through his CD collection and think, Paul was still at war with himself. When he started out, he just assumed that one way or another he would have settled on a course of action by now. But reality wasn’t that simple. He’d passed countless intersections since he started out and he continued to barrel onwards without deviating. But his straight course belied the anxious knot in his stomach.
Ostensibly, Paul was driving cross-country to spend a few weeks crashing in San Francisco at his old friend Ricky’s place. But what nobody knew about was the major detour he planned to take along the way; the major detour that was his real motivation for making this trip.
The past few months had been difficult and strange for Paul. Settling back into the college routine for his final semester came surprisingly natural to him. But it couldn’t lessen the pain of losing his beloved Karen and Paul became withdrawn, spending a lot of time lost in his own head. All too often, this would happen during lectures and study sessions and Paul’s grades suffered because of it. He had still graduated comfortably, though.
One thing that had surprised Paul during his first days back at college was that Marcy hadn’t returned. At first he was relieved as he had no idea how he was supposed to face her after that wild night of no-strings sex they’d had the night after Karen’s funeral. How on Earth were they supposed to act casual around one another with a history like that?
But Paul’s sense of relief quickly dissipated, and was replaced by feelings that were far stronger and extremely frustrating.
He began to think about her; in intermittent flashes at first, but then constantly. In every thought he had about her, Marcy was nude, or close to it. One of his favorite staples was the image of her large tits swinging like fleshy pendulums right in front of him, as Marcy pinned him down and bucked upon him wildly, milking his erogenous shaft with her tight, slick snatch. Another was the hypnotic memory of the taste of one of her nipples in his mouth, while the left side of his face sank into the warm, yielding splendor of her other breast.
Though some memories were a lot stronger than others, there was scarcely a snippet of their brief erotic history that Paul hadn’t reflected upon in detail during his final semester. Virtually every night ended with Paul jerking off to the memory of oggling Marcy’s naked body, if not the memory of fucking her. And on nights when he was too damn tense to get to sleep that easily, he would jerk off over her again, and then again, if necessary.
Campus was filled with a ton of cute and hot girls, many of whom were notoriously easy. But Paul felt little impetus to chase after any of them. Marcy had gotten stuck in his head like an earwig.
At times when he lamented his sordid little affair with her, he began to understand why the church associated casual sex with the devil, hellfire and the like. Sometimes it felt like he was actually being possessed by a demon. Ever since Marcy had taken his virginity it seemed as if she had also taken over his entire life. He felt like a prisoner. He felt like *her* prisoner. His fixation annoyed and often upset him, yet he could not escape his persistent sensual thoughts about her. Nor could he resist indulging those thoughts to the point of climax, when they occurred.
Eventually, and against all logic, that maddening obsession drove Paul to seek Marcy out. Her dropping out of college should have been a fortuitous blessing. It was best that they never see one another again and that the shameful affair they began while Karen layed dying become nothing more than ancient history. But Paul simply couldn’t help himself; he *needed* to find her.
Rumors of Marcy’s whereabouts abounded between the vacuous “friends” she had left behind on campus. Some seemed to believe that she was touring Europe, trying to clear her head after her traumatic brush with death and break-up with Jeff. Others believed that she was living back close to her family in New Mexico.
But a few days before graduation Paul got the first lead that he actually considered somewhat reliable. With a little financial incentive, Paul was able to convince a guy in the college’s admin office to give him the new mailing address the college had on record for Marcy. It was a P.O. box in a town called Calloway in Oregon.
Even as he was handing over good money for the information, Paul had no idea what he was going to do with it. For some reason, he believed that simply knowing where she was could give him some measure of satisfaction; that the knowledge would somehow loosen Marcy’s hold over him. But having a place to focus his fixation upon only made it stronger. All too soon he found himself having absurd ideas that both frightened and excited him. Calloway was calling to him. By the time he had graduated he had invented an excuse to travel across the country so that this new desire could be satiated.
And now he was here.
As he passed the “Welcome To Calloway” sign, his heart pounded so anxiously it felt like he was driving with a flat tyre. Paul had no plan for what he’d do when he finally found Marcy. He truly wondered if he’d be able to pluck up the courage to do anything more than simply watch her from a distance. But even if he could, what then? A polite greeting, inquiring about how she had been - those were a given. But Paul wasn’t really concerned for Marcy’s welfare, nor had he driven 2500 miles to catch up with an old acquaintance. The sleazy truth was that the only reason Paul was there was because he wanted to fuck her again.
It seemed like an impossible wish. He highly doubted that she’d be so delighted to see him again that she’d throw herself at him as she’d done before. Paul was well aware that Marcy had never felt especially attracted to him; she had only taken him as a lover previously because he was convenient.
He had an idea that he could talk her into catching up with him at a bar and that, with a few drinks under their belts, they might make a “drunken mistake.” But Paul was under no delusions; he knew that even his best chance of sleeping with Marcy again was a long shot. He could only hope that simply seeing her in the flesh again, being able to admire her awesome body, even fully clothed, would grant him some measure of release.
But he was getting ahead of himself. He still didn’t know precisely where in Calloway Marcy could be found. The college only had a P.O. box for her, not a residential address. Judging by the size of the dot that marked Calloway on the map, it looked to be a relatively small town, so Paul hoped that would make her easier to track down.
The main street was easy enough to find. Soon enough, Paul had discovered what appeared to be the town’s main parking lot. It was only half-full, so he had no trouble finding a space for his second-hand Chevy.
The bright mid-afternoon sun shone down upon Paul as he got out of his car. He figured that seeing as how he knew she had a P.O. box, the logical place to start his search was the post office.
As he strolled down the street, meandering around the many other pedestrians on the sidewalk, Paul drank in the classic Americana atmosphere of the town and people. It actually began to strike him as suspicious. Paul’s impression of Marcy was that she was a vivacious spirit, who relished excitement and glamor. This place was too quiet – too suburban. It didn’t feel like the kind of place Marcy would live.
With some direction from a helpful local, Paul soon found the post office. There were only a couple of customers inside, neither of whom were at the counter. The employees, a balding, meek-looking man and a old lady with glasses who looked like she’d been sitting back there for her entire working life, were both free.
Paul walked up to the man.
“Hey,” he greeted.
“Hello,” the man replied dryly.
“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” Paul said as he reached into his pocket. He produced a photo of Marcy that he’d cut out of a yearbook, knowing he’d need one to help locate her. “She told me she lived somewhere around here but I lost her address…” he lied.
The man glared at the photo with a bemused look, as if he was examining some unpleasant medical sample. He didn’t seem to know her, but his co-worker leaned over to take a look at the photo and her face lit up almost immediately.
“Oh! That’s young… oh, what’s her name? Marcy!”
Paul’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. This was actual confirmation! Marcy really was here in Calloway! After all these months, she was only a stone’s throw away.
“Very pretty girl. But a shy one; doesn’t say much,” the woman elaborated.
Paul was confused. Shy? Marcy? Were they talking about the same person? For a moment, he wondered if this was a case of mistaken identity. But what were the odds that this lady would guess Marcy’s name correctly, purely by coincidence?
“Still, she’ll always respond if you say ‘hello’ to her,” the postal worker continued.
“Do you know where she lives?” Paul asked, eagerly.
“No, I’m sorry,” the woman shook her head.
The balding man simply continued to glare at Paul with suspicious eyes. Paul felt that glare piercing him all the way to his bones because he knew he deserved it. He was no respectable gentleman visiting this wholesome town with pure intentions. He was a sex-obsessed pervert who had come here to coax a woman he didn’t particularly care for into sleeping with him.
Still, Paul managed to conceal his shame completely as he offered the woman a polite, “Oh well, thanks anyway,” and smile, before leaving the building.
Standing on the post office’s threshold, Paul took a second to steady himself against the twinge of guilt he felt. He had come too far, quite literally, to bail out now. He knew for a fact that Marcy was around here somewhere and with a little persistence, he was sure to find her.
He repeated his inquiry at all the locales where Marcy would be likely to pass through: the pharmacy, the banks, the cafes. Several people recognized Marcy, some of whom even knew her by name, but none of them could offer Paul any useful information.
But he hit paydirt at a supermarket. He was asking one of the cashiers if she recognized the girl in his photo when by fortuitous coincidence the woman whom the cashier was checking out took an interest in the photo.
“Oh, I know her!” the customer exclaimed. “Oh jeez, now let me think. Where did I see her?” the woman pondered aloud, closing her eyes tightly as she concentrated. “Ah! I remember!” she exclaimed with satisfaction, “She was at the real estate agent’s! We’ve been thinking about moving and that girl was working at the estate agent we visited.”
The woman was all too willing to provide Paul with clear directions on how to get to the real estate office in question. Paul was delighted. After thanking the woman very graciously, Paul made his way out of the supermarket at a brisk stride.
Judging by the lady’s directions, the real estate office was on the far side of town, but still within walking distance of his car, so he opted not to drive. Despite his misgivings over what was to come, Paul’s enthusiasm could not be reigned in and his impatient pace didn’t relent for one minute as he journeyed to his destination. Not until he found himself within clear view of the building in question, that is.
His momentum left him. His steady march ground to a sudden halt. This was it; the do-or-die moment. Up until now meeting up with Marcy had only been a theoretical prospect. Paul hadn’t even realized until now how secure that state of mind had been. But if he continued now, there was no turning back. Whatever awkwardness or pain would come from trying to insert himself back into Marcy’s life, he would simply have to endure it.
It was not an easy decision, and it took more than one deep breath to help Paul make it. But in the end, the powerful, desperate urges that had driven him to this point overcame his fear. He continued onward towards the object of his desire. His march was only half the speed it had been before, but its confidence had been redoubled.
As Paul reached for the handle of the glass-paned front door of the office he briefly peered inside. The dark brown ponytail and general youthful look of the receptionist behind the front desk gave him instant hope that his quest was at an end. But with the glare on the window, he couldn’t be sure.
He opened the door and by the time he was a few steps into the reception area there was no further doubt. It was Marcy.
A huge beaming grin grew upon Paul’s face. He thought it probably looked silly, but he couldn’t help it. Suddenly all he could think about was the fact that he finally had a chance to re-experience all the carnal pleasures Marcy had given him before. The realistically slim chances of such a situation actually occurring didn’t matter. His mind was utterly consumed by the 1 in 1000 vision of the future in which he would be grasping her pert little ass cheeks, suckling on her voluptuous boobs, and blowing a full, surging load into her luscious cunt. He was more excited than a kid waking up on Christmas morning.
Marcy was on the phone, her eyes fixed on a computer screen on her right-hand side. She may have been aware that someone had just come in, but she hadn’t looked up to see who it was.
“Okay... Okay... Thank you… Bye,” she wound up her conversation in a cold, professional voice.
“Yes, how can I…” she greeted the visitor, stopping dead when she realized who he was.
Her jaw dropped. Her eyes stared at this blast from her past with a look of abject horror. Paul recognized her displeasure, but wasn’t fazed. He’d anticipated a possible reaction like this from her. It didn’t speak well for his prospects with her, but Paul was confident that through the obligatory veneer of polite conversation, he might be able to turn the tables and persuade her to spend a little time with him.
He continued to stroll confidently up to her desk, still sporting that unwaveringly cheery grin that flied in the face of her unwelcoming glare. The color began to drain from Marcy’s face, as if she’d seen a ghost. Her boobs began to heave rapidly as her breathing quickened. Paul could’ve sworn they looked even bigger now than they had in all those tight sweaters she used to wear at college.
“Wow! Marcy!” Paul greeted her happily. “How are you…” he continued, stopping dead as soon as he had advanced far enough to get his first unobstructed view of her whole torso.
For an instant, he dismissed what he saw as her sweater simply contorting itself in an odd way, or some other odd optical illusion. But all too soon, he realized the undeniable truth of what he saw before him. Marcy’s belly was huge. She hadn’t simply put on weight, either. She was pregnant; *VERY* pregnant.
All of a sudden, Paul’s expression mirrored Marcy’s. His thoughts of sexual conquest were all but forgotten. In fact, his mind went completely blank. He didn’t know what to think. In no vision he had imagined of this trip had Marcy looked like that! This was a hundred times more awkward and disturbing than anything he had anticipated.
It felt like he’d been staring dumbstruck at that enormous belly for half an hour, but eventually Paul managed to lift his gaze to meet with hers. As he stared into Marcy’s wide brown eyes, Paul finally appreciated the full scope of her distress. It was terrible, almost ridiculously so. The longer he looked at her, the more curious it seemed that she would be so horrified by his appearance here. It took a moment to twig, and then suddenly a thought occurred that made Paul sick to his stomach.
The look on her face wasn’t that of a woman who had been surprised by an old acquaintance, or even an old shame. It was the look of a pregnant woman whose secret had been found out by the baby’s father!
A large part of his brain tried to maintain an optimistic outlook. It tried to reassure him by yelling that he was being paranoid. But the look in Marcy’s eyes assured him that all his worst fears were true. As Paul grappled with this idea, Marcy’s expression shifted from one of sheer horror to sheer outrage.
Paul’s jaw began to shudder as he tried to speak.
“Well...” he croaked, stumbling over a long awkward pause. “You’re... you’re looking... uh, healthy! It’s good to see that you’re... doing so well. How long have you... uh... When... when are... um…” he began to babble nonsense sentence fragments. His hands began to tremble as they fidgeted uncontrollably: brushing back his hair repeatedly and feeling around his pockets for no real reason.
“Jesus Fucking Christ! What the fuck are you doing here?” Marcy snarled between clenched teeth, somehow managing to maintain a discrete volume. Amidst the fury burning in her eyes, Paul could see tears beginning to form.
“What am I... That’s a good question! What am I doing?” Paul repeated, anxiously. “Well, I’m...I’m just passing through, on my way to California and... I thought I’d just stop here to... uh... to say ‘hi’, you know? And, so, yeah...”
Marcy didn’t say a word, but the seething anger in her eyes made Paul genuinely worried that she was about to physically attack him.
“But, yeah... you’re right, I should’ve called first,” Paul continued to yammer mindlessly, his breathing out of step with his words. “I probably shouldn’t have just turned up... so... I’m gonna go. I’ll... leave you to it.” He began to step backwards, retreating towards the door. “Hope everything goes... good for you! Maybe we can, uh... yeah! See you around,” he carelessly farewelled her as he finally reached the door and left.
Marcy watched through the glass in a state of shock as Paul staggered back to the sidewalk then out of sight.
“Shit!” Marcy cursed to herself when the realization of what had just happened finally sunk in. “Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” she repeated, pulling on her hair in distress.
Paul finding out about their baby was an utter nightmare in every possible sense. She’d gone to so much trouble to compartmentalize this pregnancy away from her old life. Suddenly all those plans laid in ruins.
So now Paul knew. What would he do with this information? There were more possible answers to that question than Marcy could fathom, and none of them were good. She realized that she had to get on top of this situation before it spiralled out of control.
“Shit!” she cursed once more at her atrociously bad luck. With no small exertion, she propped herself out of her chair and staggered over to the hallway that led into the depths of the building.
“Blake!” she called out anxiously to her boss. “Can I please leave early today? I’ve got a personal emergency that I *really* need to take care of!”
“Okay, Marcy!” a kindly voice replied from one of the office doorways stemming off the hall.
“Thanks!” she sighed, with too much stress to properly reflect her immense gratitude.
“We aren’t having an early arrival, are we?” her boss inquired with concern.
“No!” Marcy shouted back at him as she made for the door in a top-heavy jog, supporting her heavy belly with her right hand.
“Jesus Christ, that’s the last thing I’d need right now!” she muttered to herself.
She opened the door with a mighty heave and raced out to the sidewalk where she’d lost sight of Paul. She scanned the street on her right, then her left. As it happened, Paul was only about 50 feet down the road. He was bent over with his back to her, supporting his weight with his hands on his knees. Marcy noticed what appeared to be a small puddle of vomit in the gutter beside him.
Paul wasn’t on the move, so Marcy was free to pursue him at a more comfortable pace than when she’d raced out of her desk. But while there was no great urgency in her pregnancy waddle, each step hit the ground with more fury than the last. By the time she was standing right over him she had a compelling urge to push him over and shout obscenities at him until she was hoarse. Yet looking at him in his current state, a man crippled by the shock of what he’d just discovered, Marcy couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She knew all too well how upsetting it was to realize that one of your careless indiscretions had been productive.
She stood beside him in silence as she shuddered and panted heavily. Her hands were balled up into tight fists, but her heart was too merciful to unleash them upon him. She felt like she needed to say something, but she had not clue what. What could she possibly say that could calm Paul down and persuade him to respect her privacy? What words could repair this disaster he had brought by stumbling back into her life?
Paul could see her, though only as a pair of legs in navy blue pregnancy pants standing in his peripheral vision. He was scared to think what her face looked like; scared to look at that loaded abdomen again. But he soon realized that she wasn’t simply going to walk away, no matter how long he stood there staring at the curb. With a deep breath, he plucked up the courage to stand upright and look her in the eye.
Her face was contorted into a strange expression that was sad, scared, furious and lost all at once. Normally, Marcy was a skilled mistress of subduing her emotions. But not today.
“Who told you?” she demanded in a strong, calm whimper.
“Told me? Told me what?” Paul asked in confusion.
“That I was pregnant,” she answered.
“Nobody,” Paul gently replied with a furrowed brow, galled by the implication that he’d had the benefit of a forewarning about this bombshell.
“Bullshit!” Marcy snapped through clenched teeth. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Paul! Who told you?” She repeated, swinging her arms up and down as if to pound them upon an imaginary lectern before her.
“Nobody! Nobody told me! I. Didn’t. Know! I had no idea that if I came to see you I’d find... this!” he asserted, gesturing angrily towards her full belly.
They stood there for the longest time, staring each other down with poisonous, accusing glares. The sounds of their asynchronous heavy breathing overrode the songs of distant birds and the lively murmur of the main street, one block over.
Eventually, Marcy was able to put aside her stubborn assumptions long enough to notice the look of utter shell-shock in Paul’s eyes. He may have been telling the truth.
Her icy gaze softened and eventually retreated.
“Shit!” she softly repeated. As the tears began to flow, her eyes shifted aimlessly from the road to the sky, to distant trees; anywhere but the livid gaze on Paul’s face.
“Why the fuck did you have to come here?” she sighed, in a manner that made it sound so much like a rhetorical question, Paul didn’t feel obliged to answer.
Paul looked on in silence, his eyes still locked firmly upon her as he tried to process the situation. His body felt numb; his mind was lost in a storm of a thousand conflicting emotions. Though dominant among them was anger towards Marcy: anger at her for being pregnant, anger at her for surprising him by looking like this, anger for having seduced him to begin with, which he felt sure was how she had gotten this way.
Marcy steeled herself against her thoughts of self-pity with huff of resolve. She took a second to compose herself by briskly wiping most of the tears from her eyes and sweeping her loose hairs back behind her ears. Then she turned to her unwelcome visitor.
“Listen, Paul...” she began, her tone far more conciliatory than it had been a moment ago.
“Is it mine?” Paul interrupted, staring at her with eyes that were both vindictive and frightened.
Marcy had sensed this question was coming, but she hadn’t expected it to be sprung on her so soon. She contemplated her options. Should she lie to him – tell him the baby was someone else’s? Or should she tell him the truth? It was a complicated matter, far too complicated to resolve in the split second she had at her disposal.
She opened her mouth, but she had absolutely no idea what to say to the father of the life growing inside her. She met his gaze for a moment, but quickly turned away, effectively retreating from the painful question.
Though it wasn’t verbal, Marcy had given Paul a clear answer to his question: the answer he had been dreading. Right out of left field, it turned out that he was mere weeks away from becoming a father. His head sunk on to his chest. His legs became so weak and shaky it felt like he could collapse on to the ground at any moment.
“We should talk,” Marcy softly suggested.
----------------------------
Paul nursed the steaming white coffee on the table before him, scarcely aware it was even there. The café’s young waiter practically had to twist Paul’s arm to get him to order it. He did his best to tempt Paul’s into ordering one of the café’s tempting meals, as well, but Paul had lost his appetite.
Marcy had been far less fazed by the afternoon’s events. She ordered a double serving of cheery pie to go along with her white tea and began tucking in almost as soon as the plate hit the table.
It was she who suggested that they come to this café. They had an awful lot to discuss and being so far along, Marcy could hardly stand around on the curbside all afternoon. She had made a point of picking out the most secluded booth in the room; so long as they kept their voices down they would have all the privacy they needed.
Paul looked on in astonishment as Marcy devoured the meal before her like a lawnmower. She glanced up at him and noticed his furrowed brow.
“Pregnant,” she justified her appetite with a shrug.
“Yeah. I noticed,” Paul replied with dry sarcasm that made the atmosphere extremely uncomfortable. “So... you’re looking well,” he commented, in an effort to dispel the silence.
“Thanks,” Marcy politely acknowledged.
“Is everything... going okay?” Paul asked, struggling to word the question in a way that felt appropriate.
“Yeah,” she nodded in a cheery tone. She was about to make a crack about life being as good as it could be with a person stuck inside her, but she quickly decided against it. “I’m healthy. Baby’s healthy…”
“Good,” said Paul, trying to sound pleased. “How far along are you?”
“31 weeks,” Marcy replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
“31 weeks...” Paul softly repeated. “So, four weeks a month, four eights are 32... almost 8 months... March, Feb, Janu…” he muttered to himself as he did the arithmetic in his head.
“So it was at the cabin,” he sombrely declared when he had finished his calculations.
“Yeah,” Marcy softly confirmed, sensing the tone of the conversation was taking a turn for the worse.
“Goddamnit!” Paul sighed with a quiver in his voice as he rested his temples in his hands. “You said it would be safe!” he remarked, in a voice that was an eerie combination of accusing and discrete all at once.
“No, I didn’t!” Marcy countered with a defensive glare.
“I asked you about using a fucking condom and you said you were safe!” Paul whispered, pointing his finger at her for emphasis.
“I said I was *healthy*! I never said I was on birth control,” she clarified.
“Oh, don’t pull that legal, disclaimer-in-the-small-print crap on me, Marcy! You knew what you were saying...” Paul lashed out at her, holding back every urge he had to raise his voice.
“I only said I was *healthy*! I thought we’d be dead in 24 hours, Paul! Why the fuck would I think it mattered if I was on the pill or not?” Marcy spoke over him, her aggression mirroring his.
“*You* fucking threw yourself at me, I asked you about putting on a fucking condom and *you* said I didn’t need one,” Paul continued beating the dead horse.
“Okay, so if you’d known that I wasn’t on the pill, would you have done things differently?” Marcy challenged him in a calm, confident voice. Paul opened his mouth, but Marcy cut him off before he could answer, “Honestly?”
The question gave Paul pause.
“You know, I don’t know if you remember, Paul, but things were pretty fucking bad up in that cabin. It really seemed like we weren’t gonna make it out. And I think it’s safe to say that at the time neither one of us really gave a shit about whether or not what we were doing was sensible.”
Paul shook his head with an angry scowl as Marcy defended her deceitfulness. There was truth in her words about Paul’s own carelessness during the baby’s conception, but he was too bitter to see it.
“You lied to me,” he told her.
Marcy rolled her eyes in frustration.
“Whoa, wait...” he continued as something suddenly dawned on him. “If it happened in the cabin then... wouldn’t you have known about it by the funeral?” He could tell by the guilty look that suddenly washed over Marcy’s face that the answer was “Yes.”
“So you knew? That whole night we... you knew the whole time? And you never said a word! Unbelievable!” he fumed.
“Paul, I... Okay, I knew I was pregnant, but I hadn’t figured out what I was going to do about it,” Marcy justified the omission. “Matter of fact, at the time, I was pretty sure I was going to terminate it.”
It was an admission that caught Paul’s full attention. He was surprised by the poignant honesty he could see reflected in her eyes.
“I figured if nothing was ever going to come of it, then you never needed to know,” she said.
“I had a right to know,” Paul responded after taking some time to consider what Marcy had told him, “especially when it turned out like this!” he said, gesturing to her belly once again.
Marcy couldn’t argue with his feelings. She hadn’t decided to keep the pregnancy from him lightly.
“I guess you’re right,” Marcy sheepishly admitted as she gobbled another bite of pie. “I thought about calling, you know? But who the hell wants to have that conversation, right? In the end I guess I just figured that you’d be better off without the worry.”
Only now that she said that thought out loud did she realize that Paul’s face was absolutely covered in worry. She felt sorry for him, but she also realized that Paul’s fears about the prospect of fatherhood were just what she needed to secure the cooperation that she so desperately needed.
“Listen, Paul,” she began in her most genial tone. “I know this all must’ve come as a pretty big shock to you. But if you’re worried about child support or whatever, then don’t. I’m not planning on keeping it.”
Paul stared at her in confusion. What did she mean? Surely she was too far along to have an abortion now.
Marcy leaned in closer and lowered her voice, betraying how anxious she felt about what she was about to disclose. “I’ve arranged for a private adoption. It’s all taken care of.
“The thing is that when I filled in the paperwork, I said that I didn’t know who the father was. So, if you show up now and tell people who you are then... well, it could really fuck things up. I really, really need you to be cool about all this.”
She studied Paul’s face as he absorbed what she was telling him, but his expression was unreadable.
“Look, it’s better this way. For everybody,” Marcy asserted. “I’ve met the couple. They’re really nice. He’s in pharmaceuticals – makes a great living. I really think the kid’ll do great with them.
“And come on, Paul. Would you really want the stress of having a kid at, what? 21? 22?”
Paul didn’t react, but Marcy could tell her words struck a chord with him.
“I know I don’t know you all that well...” Marcy admitted, “but I’m pretty sure that this isn’t what you had planned for your life. It sure as hell isn’t what I had planned for mine,” she said with a remorseful chuckle.
“There doesn’t have to be a problem. All you have to do is just leave town and forget you were ever here; forget you ever saw me,” Marcy bargained.
Paul didn’t answer, which made Marcy increasingly nervous.
“Please?” Marcy added, in the soft, sweet voice she had successfully used countless times throughout her life to get her way. She reached out and placed her hand gently upon Paul’s.
Paul looked up at her but said nothing. However, Marcy gleaned from the lack of fire in his eyes that he had no inclination to fight her in this matter. There was no irrational broody instinct inside him pushing to claim his offspring for himself. She was cautiously optimistic that once he had processed everything she had told him, Paul would appreciate the logic of what she’d said and would leave her in peace.
She leaned back, giving Paul some time to think while she continued with the delicious pie before her.
“When you said you didn’t know…" Paul softly uttered.
“What?” Marcy responded.
“When you told the adoption people you didn’t know who the father is. Was that true?”
At first Marcy thought she’d misheard him. She hadn’t explicitly told Paul he was the father, but she was sure he’d understood.
“I mean, really? Is there a chance that maybe you don’t actually know?” Paul clarified.
Marcy awkwardly swallowed the piece of pie in her mouth. Again, she was faced with the difficult dilemma of whether or not to lie to Paul. If she let him believe that there was a chance he mightn’t be the father, that might make him feel better. But on the other hand, the blow of realizing he had gotten her pregnant had already hit him. Marcy figured that absolute confirmation would do little further damage. Besides, lying to him could have consequences, particularly if he kept pressing the matter until he pulled the lie apart. In the end, she decided it wasn’t worth the risk.
She shook her head softly, denying him his last ray of hope as gently as she could.
“No,” she silently mouthed.
Paul sighed.
“Jeff always wore condoms,” Marcy explained, “and there was no one else when…” she trailed off, beginning to feel uncomfortable discussing her sex life, or more specifically, lack thereof, in the aftermath of the cabin incident. “It’s definitely yours.”
“Damn,” Paul quietly lamented after a lengthy pause and another loud sigh.
They sat there together in silence for a long time. Paul simply stared at the cup of coffee in his hand which he still hadn’t so much as sipped. Marcy finished off what little remained of her pie, her enthusiasm for eating dampened somewhat by a lingering concern that Paul might make trouble for her future plans.
She thought about the astonished expression on his face when he had first seen her baby bump; the way he’d been staggering through their conversation in a daze ever since.
“You really didn’t know, did you?” Marcy finally realized.
Paul looked up at her, his emotional weariness painted all over his face and answered, “No. No one at college does.”
That wasn’t true. In a moment of desperation, Marcy had confided in two close friends, Steph and Jane, that was pregnant. After she had settled in Calloway, she had even dropped them a line to let them know where she was living. However, she had never told them who had gotten her pregnant, nor where it had happened.
When Paul had first walked into her workplace, Marcy had jumped to the conclusion that one of her so-called “good friends” had betrayed her confidence and gossiped to Paul about her condition. Paul, realizing that he could well be the father then travelled across the country to have his suspicions confirmed. But now she realized that her doubts were unfounded: neither Steph nor Jane had betrayed her. Her shameful secret was safe.
That still left one important question.
“So what the hell are you doing here?” she asked Paul gently.
Paul shrugged.
“Well, I... I guess I... I don’t know,” he muttered. He wasn’t being intentionally obstructive, he genuinely didn’t know what the answer was. His lustful ambitions towards Marcy hadn’t simply been dashed by discovering her in such a ripe condition - they had been completely forgotten! He could remember making the long drive to this place, but his reason for doing so was a mystery to him. In many ways, it almost felt like he was coasting through a nightmare, where one minute he was graduating college and the next he was sitting across a table from a woman with his baby in her womb.
In that awkward silence Marcy quickly deduced what Paul couldn’t: he had driven all this way just to see *her*.
It was a staggering revelation to say the least, but it was only half an answer to her question. Why had he come to see her? Had he really come all this way just to check up on her emotional wellbeing? The last time she had seen him - the night of Karen’s funeral - had been a rough time for both of them. They had been able to give each other some measure of comfort, but they were still plagued buy a great deal of grief and trauma when they parted ways.
They’d never been particularly fond of one another; the tragedy they’d endured at the cabin and the impulsive mistake they made therein were really the only things they’d ever had in common. But Marcy had always found Paul to be a sensitive, considerate guy. She wouldn’t put it past him to have grown concerned about her when she didn’t return to college for the final semester. But concerned enough to travel all the way across the country just to check up on her? Now that was surprising!
On the other hand, Marcy couldn’t help but consider the other side of their history: the lively, no-strings sex side. Despite the dry, occasionally frosty nature of their overall relationship, there was no denying that their hook-ups had left Paul extremely satisfied.
Was this visit simply a long distance booty call?
Marcy was more inclined to believe the latter. In fact, she actually hoped it was the latter. The idea of Paul going to so much trouble to make an emotional connection with Marcy may have been sweet, but it made her uneasy. Baby or not, Marcy had never been interested in a deep relationship with Paul. He was nice enough but there were just too many bad memories and complications associated with him. The idea that he had come all this way to reach out to her, only to be repaid with the shock revelation that she was carrying his child only made this scenario more disturbing.
But as she reflected on her theory that Paul had driven so far just to screw *her*, when there was no shortage of fuckable women on the east coast, Marcy couldn’t help but smirk. It seemed that she had left quite an impression on him all those months ago.
It was a surprisingly welcome ego boost for Marcy. It’d been months since she’d been able to look at a full-length mirror. Every time she looked at her body these days, all she saw was a hippopotamus. Knowing that the growth was completely natural and anticipating it had allowed Marcy to take it in her stride. In fact it had been such a seamless transition that she’d all but forgotten that not so long ago she’d actually been proud of her looks.
Paul coming here turned out to be a stirring reminder that Marcy’s natural form was so desirable that a man would drive across the country just to get a repeat taste. It reminded her what it was like to feel attractive. She mightn’t have had her gorgeous body anymore, but she nonetheless took to heart all these fond memories and flattering sensations which Paul had stirred up. It felt really good to be reminded that hidden behind the baby belly was a sexy young woman and it gave her renewed hope that after the birth, with some hard work she could be sexy again.
- 9
- 10
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