The Embrace by Vivian Wood

26

Termination of a pregnancy: an in-depth explanation of a medical procedure.

I look down at the pamphlet in my hands, the letters white against a purple background. That doesn't sound like light reading to me. So I readjust my seat in the back of the limousine and shuffle the pamphlets I am holding.

Pregnancy: a glimpse into a fascinating natural process.

I open the pamphlet and begin pouring over the pictures I'm presented with. There is a picture of an embryo in a gestational sac and a drawing of a pregnant woman, with her fully formed baby inside of her stomach.

I feel like this pamphlet is only giving me a partial view. It's not telling me how I will go through hormonal changes, experience my feet swelling, or how bad my morning sickness could be. It's not being brutally honest about how painful labor can often be.

And of course, how can it be telling me the whole truth about how Calum will feel when I tell him about the fact that I messed up and got pregnant? The answer is that it can't.

I stare out the window as the limo gently pulls to a stop at the curb outside the New York Ballet. It's only when the driver gets out of the car and starts walking around to open my door that I hurry to shove the pamphlets in my duffel bag. I slide out of the car and thank the driver, feeling like my head is simultaneously completely empty and yet jammed full of thoughts at once.

As I mindlessly head into the dance studio, I know that what I'm doing now is not good for me. Well, not good for the baby, anyway. I definitely haven't talked to Dr. Partridge about keeping it and still dancing. But I'm pretty sure that he would agree that my usual schedule of punishing dance classes and running several miles every day would not be the optimal thing for a mother-to-be.

That is, if I am to be a mother. I’m as unsure about that as I am about anything in my life right now.

I'm not as early as I usually am and I find that the dance studio is almost full when I get there. I exhale and toe off my shoes, leaving my duffel bag on the floor of the studio. I need to grab a couple new pairs of ballet slippers. So I had across the wood floor, my head down as I head towards the shoe room.

On my way out the door, I encounter Manon and her flying monkeys. Manon steps back to let me exit the room but her friends are not as accommodating, bumping into me and giving me little glares.

Manon shrugs apologetically but doesn't say anything as I pass. Did I dream our last interaction? It seems that nothing has changed between us lately.

Drawing in a deep breath, I make my visit to the shoe closet as quick and painless as possible. It takes me a couple minutes to hunt down my exact size in three different brands but I am soon on my way back into the studio.

When I open the door, I immediately notice three of Manon’s friends crowded around where my bag is on the studio floor. They are looking at the pamphlets I stuffed in my bag.

Jesus christ. How embarrassing.

“Hey!” I call out. I stride toward them, my face growing red. “Hey! What are you doing?”

They look up, their faces full of laughter. One of them, a slender and petite dancer named Marguerite, thrust her hand out and waves a pamphlet at me. “So I guess you're knocked up?”

I bare my teeth at her and snatch the pamphlet out of her hand. “Mind your own fucking business. Don’t you have a broom that you should be preparing to ride into the harvest moon or something?”

Marguerite sneers and holds up her phone. “I’m going to tell everybody. Especially the administration. God, can you even imagine how Basil will probably react?”

Out of nowhere, Manon swoops in and stands beside me. “Kaia only has those pamphlets because she went to health services with me and she wanted to make sure that I had all the information I needed to make a decision. I’m the one that is pregnant, not her. Okay?”

Her three friends couldn't have looked more shocked if they tried. Marguerite blinks ten times as she tries to wrap her head around this new piece of information.

“Wait, so…” She works out what she's going to say. “Those pamphlets are for you? You're pregnant?”

“Are you just going to stand there and repeat back to me what I just said?” Manon taunts. “It's a private matter between me and my doctor. The two of us are dealing with it. Is that clear?”

Marguerite swallows. She glances at her two friends and then nods. “Okay. Sorry?”

Manon is not done. She senses weakness in her quarry and now goes on the offensive, backing her friends up by stepping closer. “You shouldn't be going through anyone's private things. Especially not when you still haven't nailed that combination from three days ago. I would think that you would want to make sure that your side the street was perfectly clean before you started walking around and pointing fingers at other people’s trash.”

Marguerite’s brows lower and she looks angry. But she has learned that you don't mess with Manon, not unless you are spoiling for a fight, anyway.

She drops the remaining pamphlet on top of my bag and walks away, looking quietly furious. Her two friends follow her, leaving me with Manon. Manon just rolls her eyes at her friends, shaking her head.

“What a bunch of bitches,” she mutters.

That's the moment when Basil walks into the class, clapping his hands together. “Okay, okay! Places everyone!”

We all hurry to the bar and line up just as we have practiced a hundred thousand times in our lives. I can't stop myself from spending the first couple minutes of class peaking at Marguerite and her friends. I catch them looking back at me speculatively a few times. But the class soon grows more rigorous, requiring complete focus. I guess for once I am glad about that.

Forty five minutes later, covered in sweat, I finish my last pirouette. Basil is already looking at his phone, distracted.

“Very good,” he calls. “That’s enough for right now. Go home and grab some rest and refuel your bodies. Lots of water, etcetera…”

With that, Basil is already out of the door.

I am already stretching out as part of a post dance class cool off when Manon approaches me. She jerks her head outside, indicating that she wants to speak with me but not in hearing range of everyone else.

I press my lips into a firm line and follow her out of the studio, trying to work up exactly what I going to say.

Should I just lie and deny everything? Should I tell her a little about my situation?

Manon leads me down the hall until we are clear of other dancers. Then she leans against the wall and crosses her arms, looking at me. “What is going on, Kaia?”

I pursed my lips and shrugged. “I don't know. What is going on with you?”

She shakes her head again. “No, no. My friends found your ‘what do I do if I'm pregnant’ pamphlets. So what's the deal? Are you expecting?”

I look down and my mouth twist. “Is it crazy that I would even think about telling you anything? God, I miss Ella.”

Her lips twitch. “I won't tell anyone, you know. But I have to know, is it Calum’s?”

My mouth screws up. I look at her, taking her measure. I can’t think of a way to answer her question that couldn’t come back to bite me in the ass later. So I just favor her with a long look instead.

She rolls her eyes. “Come on. Be serious. You two are definitely full on dating. Maybe even living together. So it makes total sense that I would ask if it's his baby.”

I swallow. I'm definitely not prepared for her to know all that. “I’m not sure what you think you know…”

Manon narrows her gaze on my face. “What I know is that if Calum finds out that you are pregnant and still dancing, he's going to be angry, to say the least. If you are pregnant, you have to take care of yourself. Dancing at a professional level is freaking hard and it's stressful for anybody, even someone that's not with child. So I'll ask you again… Are you pregnant with Calum’s child?”

I start tearing up so I look down at my feet, my arms wrapping around myself.

“Yes,” I mumble softly. “It is Calum's. But I don't know if I'm going to keep it. I mean… I just haven't thought it through all the way yet.”

She draws in a breath and lets it out as a sigh. “How long have you known? Since earlier in the week when we talked about the possibility of your being pregnant?”

I shrug a shoulder. “Not long. A couple days.”

“Do you need anything from me?”

I look up at her, surprised. “From you?”

She nods.

“Yeah. I told you, I am trying to get in good with Calum's brother Lucas. And one way I can definitely do that is being nice to his brother’s girlfriend. Right?”

I give her a sour look. “I guess that is one way, yes. But I don't need anything from you. In fact, I'm not even sure why I put it out here in the first place. Talking to you is probably only going to encourage your dancer friends to start rumors.”

“Well, they're not exactly rumors, are they?”

I make an exasperated sound and turn away to head down the hall back to the dance studio. But Manon quickly grabs my arm and hugs me back to face her again. “Wait, wait. I'm sorry. That wasn't helpful.”

I pry her fingers off my arm and shoot her a tiny glare. “Definitely not.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to talk… you know, I'm here. I may not be Ella but I am a person that that you can talk to without worrying about it getting back to the whole dance company. I may not be of perfect person, but I know how to be discreet when it's called for.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m not ready to talk to anybody about anything. I'm just… I just need a little more time to process everything. I mean, I would be theoretically giving up my whole career if I were to carry Calum's child. And I haven't even gotten started on the fact that he specifically doesn't want this baby. Or any baby, as far as I know.”

Manon looks at me with a frown. “That's gotta be hard.”

“Yeah, well.” I shrug my shoulders helplessly. “It is what it is. Anyway…” I look down the hallway toward the dance studio. “I should get going. I need to refuel and maybe take a nap. But… thanks.”

She nod. “Of course. I'm around if you need me.”

Giving her a pasted-on smile, I head back toward the studio.