CHAPTER EIGHT

The air in the capital was hot and stifling, thick with exhaust and smog. Susan had spent only one night in her apartment and already felt her spirits sinking. She had slept badly, too. At first light she had shut herself in the bathroom with a second test.

She sat on the edge of the bathtub for a long time after the second line appeared. The box said results in three minutes. It had taken forty-five seconds!

She was a psychologist. She knew all about denial — its function, its temporary mercy, the way the mind builds small walls to manage what would otherwise arrive all at once. She had recognized it in herself after Martin, like an old acquaintance she would prefer not to run into.

But this was not denial!

One night, she thought. And then, before she could stop it: One extraordinary night.

She squished that thought at once!

She calculated. She thought about her job at the school, about her apartment, about the inheritance her grandfather had mentioned so casually that she still hadn't absorbed it. She thought about her mother's voice and her father's face, and about the way Grandpa Max had asked her, over his birthday bourbon, to let him hold her child before he died.

She thought about Alan — and stopped. She was still not ready to think about Alan.

She set the test face-down on the edge of the sink. Stood up. Looked at herself in the mirror.

“You are a psychologist”, she told her reflection. “You help people through worse things than this every week. You know every stage of what comes next”

Her reflection looked back at her, unconvinced.

"All right," she said aloud, to no one. "All right, then."

There could be no more doubt. She was pregnant. She carried the test to the living room, dropped it on the table in despair, and pressed her head into her hands. What was she going to do now?

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Susan jumped. No one even knew she was back from the sea! Who could it be, this early in the morning? She went to the door and peered through the peephole. The landing outside was empty. Susan took a step back. The knock came again. Annoyed, she unlocked the door.

"Hello!"

"Alan?!" she exclaimed, in a mixture of relief and dread.

"Can I come in?"

"No!" Susan instinctively began to close the door.

"I have something to deliver from Grandpa Max," he declared calmly, his face unreadable.

"From Grandpa?" She looked at him with worry. "Has something happened?"

"Will you let me in?"

Susan hesitated, then opened the door and reluctantly stepped aside. In the living room, Alan handed her an envelope. She took the letter and withdrew into the next room to read it, passing through the archway that joined the living room to the dining room.

In the letter, her grandfather asked whether she might visit him before the end of the summer: he wanted to settle the will with the notary. He felt it was time to put his affairs in order before he passed on — one never knew, after all. Otherwise, he was perfectly well, and she wasn't to worry about his health! Susan grew worried all the same, and in earnest. She returned to the living room, where Alan stood with his back to her.

"Alan, is Grandpa all right? He's not ill, is he? Because if something's wrong and I'm not—" The words stuck in her throat.

Alan turned slowly to face her. His eyes pierced her like daggers — and in his hand he held the pregnancy test she had left on the table. She went white and caught at the wall for support.

"Is the child mine?" he asked, very calmly.

Susan could only draw a sharp breath. To her horror, not a single word would come. Alan swore under his breath. His face contorted as if  her grief had struck him harder than the news itself. He came toward her, holding up the test.

"And when were you planning to tell me?"

Susan shook her head.

"I only just found out! I never meant for this!" she said defensively.

Alan's hand fell. She saw that what he had taken from her words was that she wanted nothing to do with him, didn't want his child. The color drained from his face in the face of her desparation.

"Tell me straight — am I wrong, or are you truly carrying my child?"

She looked at him. One little "no" and he would walk out of her life forever — but Susan couldn't bring herself to lie to his face. For the sake of the past, for the friendship that had bound them until this moment, for her own sake, she told the truth:

"After Martin, there was no one but you, Alan! But as God is my witness, I never wanted it to happen like this!"

Susan only realized she was crying when he raised his hand and wiped the tears from her face.

"I know about your engagement to that Martin! The man is clearly the biggest fool alive — though on the other hand, if he hadn't broken it off and bolted, I'd never have had this chance with you!"

"No, Alan! This — us — should never have happened! I won't be beholden to you!"

"Beholden is the last thing I feel toward you, Sue. Anything else — but not that."

"Let me deal with this myself! Forget about me!"

"Leave you? The child is mine — how could I not be glad? I want children, Sue!" he declared with certainty. She shook her head.

"No — it won't work! I'd blame myself my whole life for trapping you with an accidental pregnancy! Why did you have to turn up here at all!"

"I bear my share of responsibility for that night too, you know! And this is hardly the way to speak to your child's father!" Alan pointed out. Susan felt anger boil up in her.

"Mind your business!"

"So — when are we getting married?" he asked calmly.

"Never!"

"Oh, we will! Bearing and raising a child alone is no easy road!" Alan shook his head in disapproval, which enraged Susan all the more.

"I've never heard of any birth being easy! I can take care of the baby by myself!"

She stepped away from him and stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed over her chest.

"All right, Sue! Have it your way! I'll grant you, we both made a mistake, and now we have to live with it!"

"Alan, let's not talk about this anymore!"

"Well, I do want to! I want this baby! Do you understand me?"

She looked at him, taken aback.

"You want this child... with me?"

Alan approached her again. His hands hugged her around the waist.

"I want far more than that!" he said hoarsely. "I want all of you. I want to take you slowly again, and hear you cry out with pleasure. There is nothing better than feeling your body arch beneath me when I'm deep inside you!" His voice was low and sensual, and his hands were everywhere — caressing, teasing, promising.

"Alan!" Susan groaned. This time her attempt to push him away came to nothing. He went on, lower still:

"I can't wait to hear you cry out at the last moment, to watch your face blaze with passion. I will never tire of that sight!"

"Please — stop!" Susan moaned helplessly, trembling. The hard press of him brushed her thigh and she gasped. He laughed low against her lips, then bit them softly.

"I can't!" she whispered, and kissed him lightly. "Too late, my darling! You're far too weak to fight it!" he murmured. And he kissed her — slowly, deliberately, like a man reveling in understanding of decision he had made a long ago.

Susan sighed. The tension in her gave way to fear. She had been cruelly deceived in her hopes once before — and with Alan everything was moving at such breakneck speed, with so much feeling! She braced her hands against his chest.

"Alan, stop! You're my friend! We shouldn't be doing this!"

"Which is why your pulse is racing, of course!"

"Well — I'm glad I can boost your ego!"

"My dear, you've boosted considerably more than that!" He grinned. Susan blushed scarlet.

"Alan, let's be sensible! Nothing can come of us! We're completely different!"

"If we were the same, there'd be no attraction! Sue, you're free — so am I! We're having a baby! Your grandfather will be in seventh heaven, and my mother has always adored you! What more do two people need to get married?"

Susan stepped back from him. Yes — what more did she want?! Mutual understanding, a child, delighted relatives: ideal conditions for a good marriage! And yet something was missing. Love was missing! Alan had not once said that he loved her. And Susan needed to be loved for herself. She needed, with her whole heart, to be truly loved — and to love, and to give love! Wasn't that what a life on this earth was for? And that she didn't yet know what she felt for him worried her even more. Her body wanted him — that much was plain, and fine — but love did not consist of sex alone!

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?" Alan offered, when she had been silent a long while.

"No! I need to think hard about what comes next! A person has to be alone to be sure of a decision like this!"

"Nonsense! I don't need time to think — not a minute of it!"

"But I want to be sure of my decision!"

"If you don't want my child, better say so now! But know this — I will not allow an abortion!"

"I haven't said that!"

He had gone very still, and he made no move toward her — as though one more step might frighten her off for good. But his eyes were blazing, and she knew that look. He wasn't going to give this up. Not the child — and not her!"Have dinner with me! We'll talk it all through tonight!"

"That's blackmail, Alan!"

"It is. Ready to marry me yet?"

She tapped her foot in irritation. The man was infuriating — and she almost never lost her temper, on principle. She crossed her arms again and narrowed her eyes.

"Do you think you're funny?"

"Well — I try not to let public opinion sway me too much. What do you think of me, though?"

His eyes sparkled devilishly. Susan drew a slow breath. He flustered her — made her breath catch and her head spin!

"Alan, you're impossible!" she exclaimed in exasperation. He smiled at her.

"I'll pick you up at seven," he added over his shoulder, already heading for the door.

"Alan!!!"

The only answer was the soft slam of the door.