Catherine & Thomas Ch. 06

"How did you find out about Lisa?" he asked.

I looked at him as he spoke and was taken aback at his ashen expression.

"I can't say who told me but I know what happened. Why didn't you tell me about her Thomas?" I asked. "Surely I had a right to know?"

"I didn't want to talk about it. It was a sordid episode and I didn't want to rehash that sorry story. Any way, it had nothing to do with our relationship." he replied.

"But Thomas, it had everything to do with us. I would have understood why you were so dead set against Kyle and so possessive over me. Maybe we wouldn't have come to this." I said.

"Come to what? What have we come to exactly?" he asked.

"I, I, don't know for sure." I said. "It's all so much to take in. I know that everything's changed and I don't really know what I'm going to do but I don't think we can go on as we did before."

It all came out in a rush. There was so much more to say but I could see no point in continuing.

Thomas sighed deeply and laid his head back on the couch, closing his eyes. He looked so tired. I wanted to smooth away the frown lines on his forehead and kiss his sweet lips but I didn't. He spoke without opening his eyes.

"Does this mean it's over between us?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, no, I don't know. I don't know and that's the truth." I said. "Yesterday morning I thought I knew. I thought that it was over. Then I heard about Lisa and Kyle and how you were hurt, and suddenly I wasn't so sure. I'm confused Thomas. I know everything's changed and I don't quite know how to handle it or what to do but I do know that I have to take charge of my life. I can't be led by you, or Kyle or mom or dad or anyone else. I have to make my own decisions, right or wrong."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, rubbing his face repeatedly, like he wanted to wash away the exhaustion. Once again I resisted the urge to touch him, to run my fingers through his crisp black curls.

"Catherine..." he began.

"Stop calling me Catherine." I interrupted. "You never call me that. Call me Cat like you always do."

He smiled at me tiredly. "Cat is a child's name and you're no longer a child. Are you? Like you said Catherine, everything's changed."

I had no reply.

"Do you think...do you think I could hold you? Just for a few minutes?" he asked hesitantly.

I hesitated for a few seconds and then carefully moved closer. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight against him. I nestled up against him, fleetingly thinking of how comfortable it felt to be so close to him. We held each other for several silent minutes. He stroked my hair and occasionally I felt his lips press against my head. I closed my eyes and felt the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. I heard and felt the steady beat of his heart. I wondered if I would ever be in this place again; if I would ever again listen to his heart beat and be able to inhale the scent of his skin.

Finally he broke the embrace. He cupped my face in his hands and stared intently into my eyes. His thumb lightly stroked my lips, sending a shiver through me.

"Catherine, I'm not going to tell you what to do. Like you said, you need to make your own decisions. But you need to know that I'm not going to give up and quietly go away. I truly believe that you and I are meant to be together and I will do whatever it takes to make a future for us."

He said this quietly and with complete conviction.

"Oh Thomas." I sighed. "Don't say that. Please don't say that. You're making everything so much more difficult."

He didn't reply with words. Instead, he kissed me softly on my mouth. I trembled with love and desire as he kissed me. It was a kiss filled with love and longing and a sad sweetness. This was definitely not making anything easier for me.

He didn't stop at the kiss. He unbuttoned my shirt and slowly and deliberately started undressing me.

"Don't. Thomas, please. Don't do this." I protested weakly. Oh God, here I was again. In exactly the same place I had sworn I would avoid.

"Please, Thomas. This is so wrong. You're making things worse. We mustn't. I don't want to." I said, weakly trying to push him away.

He stopped immediately and looked searchingly at me.

"Are you sure, absolutely sure you don't want to?" he asked softly. "What if this was the last time? You can still do whatever you think is right for you - tell me you never want to see me again or tell me you'll be with me always. Whatever you decide, none of that has anything to do with me wanting to love you right now. Put everything else aside Catherine. Just take this moment for the two of us and forget everyone else. No one else exists until we leave this room."

I knew he was wrong. I knew we couldn't hide away in our lovemaking. I knew I shouldn't do this. But can you honestly tell me you've always made the right decision? Can you say that you've always turned away from the kiss, the touch, the desire, the person that wasn't good for you? Can you tell me you were always resolute in making the right choices? Well, I was only human too.

Thomas and I made sweet, gentle love. I tried to remember every move, every touch, every sound, smell and taste. I tried to burn our lovemaking into my mind. Somehow I knew this was the last time. He told me over and over how much he loved me. I ached to tell him I loved him too but I managed to hold back. At least I could try not to compound my mistake in letting it go this far.

We had little to say to each other later on as we dressed. He told me he'd call me later and I asked him not to. He looked hurt and I explained that I needed some time to myself and it would make things more difficult if were still in contact. He opened his mouth as if to argue but then changed his mind and nodded agreement.

He squeezed my hand hard as we said goodbye and I left quickly, before I could change my mind. I didn't look back as I walked away. Every fibre in my body was telling me to go back but I kept on walking.

I spent the following weeks getting my life in order. I organised my finances and looked for a job and an apartment of my own. I knew I could no longer live in my parents' home. The apartment Thomas bought for me was obviously out of the question too. I eventually found a small bachelor apartment in an unfashionable part of the city that suited my needs and finances. I wasn't ready for a full-time job and I managed to find two part-time jobs that kept me busy without taxing me mentally. I also kept in touch with Veronica and she was an unfailing source of support and friendship. She tried to talk to me about what had happened but I told her I wasn't ready to talk about it again. I knew she suspected there was much more to the story than what I had told her but she was kind enough not to press me.

Thomas respected my wishes and didn't try to contact me. I was relieved but also disappointed. He'd said that he wouldn't give up on us but it didn't seem that he was doing anything to back up his words. As soon as I thought this I berated myself for contradicting my own wish for our relationship to be over. I couldn't have it both ways. I couldn't want Thomas to pursue me and for it all to be over. Yet, I wondered at his silence.

I don't know how long I would have coasted along on automatic pilot. I had no pressing desire to change things. I was in a comfort zone with no real need to change. It was comforting to be alone and not have to deal with Thomas, Kyle, my parents and all the other complications of my former life.

However, it wasn't to last. It all came to an end in the most unexpected and terrifying manner.

I discovered I was pregnant.

I had been feeling ill for several weeks. I couldn't keep my food down and I felt tired and listless. One day I fainted at work and my worried boss insisted I visit the doctor. I walked into the first doctor's surgery I encountered, not wanting to visit my family doctor. He asked me routine questions about diet, stress, medication, allergies, etc. and I answered that I didn't have much stress, was eating normally, wasn't taking medication besides oral contraception and neither did I have any allergies. When was my last period, he asked. I started to answer and then realised I didn't know. He saw my confusion and suggested that he do a pregnancy test. He gave me a plastic cup and said he'd leave me alone for a few minutes while I gave a urine sample.

I stared dumbly at the cup after he left. Surely I couldn't be pregnant? That was unthinkable. It wasn't possible. I had always religiously taken my pill. I wasn't ever careless.

My hand trembled as I handed the cup to the doctor when he returned. He gave the sample to the nurse and told me to wait for a few minutes and that he had some more questions. He asked me when I'd last had sex, how many partners I'd had. I answered numbly, obviously leaving out the identity of my lover.

Then he checked the test results.

"Well Catherine. Here's the reason for your recent illness. You're pregnant." He stated baldly.

I couldn't talk. I was in a nightmare. Suddenly I wanted to be sick. The doctor saw my face change and he rushed forward with a bed pan. I vomited what little food was left in my stomach and kept on heaving painfully even after I was empty. By now I was crying uncontrollably. My life felt like it was over. Once I'd cleaned up and resumed my seat the doctor spoke to me seriously.

"You're obviously not happy about this Catherine." He said. "Can you discuss the situation with the father?"

"I don't know." I whispered. "I don't know if I can tell him, if I even want to tell him. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"That decision is up to you of course but I would suggest you think very carefully before you make any definite decisions. You've just heard life-changing news and I can only assume that you and the father are not on the best of terms. You have options Catherine. I would suggest you speak to someone you trust or I can arrange for you to see a counselor." He said kindly.

I nodded but I couldn't answer. The doctor wrote out a prescription for anti-nausea medication and gave me the details of a counselor. I thanked him and left in a daze.

I was hardly aware of my surroundings as I walked home, a good twenty blocks away. I wasn't even aware of the distance. My mind was consumed by the horror of my situation. I could never tell anyone about this. How could I? I'd have to reveal the identity of the father and then my life would be over. Thomas would be destroyed too. Oh dear God. What was I supposed to do?

When I reached home I crawled into bed, pulling the covers over my head. I listened to the muted sounds of the city. All those people going about their business; blissfully unaware of what was happening to me. I had never felt so alone. I cried myself to sleep and unexpectedly slept for the rest of the day and right through the night.

I woke the next morning and felt as if I had been drugged. My head was stuffy and aching and I felt sick to the pit of my stomach. Within minutes I was rushing to the bathroom to be violently sick. I cried hot, bitter tears as I knelt on the cold bathroom floor. I cried until I had no more tears. My eyes were swollen and dry and gritty. I looked with dull shock in the bathroom mirror at my ravaged face. I couldn't go to work looking like this.

I called in sick and got back into bed. I called in sick the next day and the day after that. I didn't care if I lost both my jobs. I couldn't leave my apartment. I barely ate, having no appetite. I think I wanted to starve the baby out of me. I hated it, even though the poor mite had no choice in its own existence.

I listened without interest to the few messages on my answering machine: Veronica calling to say hello, messages from colleagues asking when I planned to return to work and eventually, messages from both my bosses telling me not to bother to return. I didn't care. Nothing mattered any more. My life was over.

Eventually, after about a week of misery, I roused myself from my marathon of self-pity and faced the fact that no mystery saviour would swoop down and make it all go away. It was all up to me. My actions had consequences and the big consequence was that Thomas and I had created a life. I was responsible for the life growing inside me and God help me, I didn't know what to do.

I also had to decide if I should tell Thomas or not. On the one hand I didn't want to go through this alone but on the other hand I didn't feel up to coping with Thomas's reaction. I was still mulling over my decision when I came across the note from the doctor with the counselor's contact details. It was a glimmer of hope. I dialed the number with trembling fingers and made an appointment for the following day.

The next day, as I sat in the waiting room, I stole glances at the other women waiting their turn to see the other counselors. I wondered why they were here. They looked so ordinary and calm. Could any of them be feeling as I did? Was one of them thinking that her life was over? That she had no choices and no one to help her? What did they think of me? These pointless questions whirled through my mind. I was so caught up in my silent panic that I didn't hear the receptionist call my name. She raised her voice and called my name again twice before I heard her. One or two of the waiting women looked at me curiously but otherwise there was no reaction as I made my way on unsteady legs into the counselor's office.

A pleasant-faced middle-aged woman came out from behind her desk, smiling kindly at me as she ushered me to a seat. To my surprise she didn't return to her seat behind the desk and instead took the chair next to mine.

"Now, Catherine...Rosslyn is it?" she asked as she checked the file she'd picked up from her desk. "My name is Louisa Shand. I see that Dr. Jacobs referred you to me. Good man that. Is this your first visit to a counselor?"

I nodded, unable to speak.

"I see. Well, I'd like to start by asking you a few routine questions. That will help me to compile a basic profile of you and will give you some to relax a little. Will that be ok?" she asked in her kind, soft voice.

I nodded again.

She spent the next half an hour asking me questions about my health, education, family, work, hobbies and interests. As I talked she made notes, glancing at me occasionally to give me an encouraging nod. Then she put down her pen and smiled at me as if I'd completed my homework without any mistakes.

"Now Catherine, we've got all the routine questions out of the way. We need to talk about the reason you're here. Are you ready to tell me why you look as if all the troubles of the world are resting on your young shoulders?"

Well, that did it. Her kind face and sympathetic words broke me. I sobbed like a child; ugly, gulping sobs racked my body. Louisa wordlessly handed me a huge stack of tissues and I made use of all of them. When I finally stopped crying I had a mass of crumpled, wet tissues in my lap. Louisa was a pro and simply handed me a wicker basket.

"Feeling a little better?" she asked once I had cleaned up and could look at her again.

"Yes." I replied, and oddly, I did feel a bit better.

"Do you feel able to tell me what's wrong?" she asked in the same patient tone.

I nodded and took a deep breath before speaking.

"What I tell you here. Is it all confidential? I mean, you're not allowed to tell anyone are you?" I asked worriedly.

"Our sessions are 100% confidential. What you tell me stays here, with me only. My files are locked away securely and only I have the keys to those cabinets. I don't make recordings of my sessions and prefer to make notes instead. If you insist I won't make notes but it does help if I have notes to refer to when dealing with your case. It makes it easier for me to help you." She explained.

"I understand. I'll let you know if there is anything I don't want you to write down." I said.

"I have another question though. Do you, are there, are there some things that are so disgusting that you don't want to take on a patient?" I asked hesitantly.

She frowned, perplexed at my question.

"What kind of things Catherine? What do you think you did that I would find disgusting?" she asked.

"Well, it's just that, it's just that, I'm afraid that you'll judge me and won't want to speak to me after you hear what I have to tell you." I replied.

"I hear all kinds of stories in this room Catherine, from ordinary people who tell me extraordinary stories. It's not my place to judge them or you. My job is to listen and to help, nothing more or less than that. Does that answer your question?" she asked me gently.

I took a shuddering breath and nodded.

"I'm pregnant. And I don't want the baby. I haven't told the father or my parents or anyone else. I don't know what to do." I said.

"I know this feels like the worst thing in the world to happen to you Catherine and I have no doubt it's the single most important thing that has happened to you. But you are not alone and you do have options." Louisa said.

"There's more." I said, before she could continue. "There's more and it's a big 'more'."

Louisa waited patiently. Then I said it.

"The father of my baby is my brother. He loves me and I love him and we started sleeping together a few months ago. He was my first and only lover. I know what we did was wrong but it didn't feel wrong. It never felt wrong. I ended it about two months ago. I mean, I think I ended it. I told him I needed time alone but, well, I still think of him and I know he doesn't want it to end but it has to. It has to end, doesn't it?" I looked at her, afraid of what I would see in her eyes.

She was taken aback. I could see that. But there was no judgment or condemnation in her eyes. I started to relax a little. The truth was out and the sky hadn't fallen on my head.

"Catherine." She began and then stopped.

I could see her thinking hard about what she was going to say next. She spoke again.

"Catherine, you may not believe this but you're not the only two people in the world in this situation. I'm not saying I know how you feel and I'm definitely not downplaying your distress and unhappiness. All I'm saying is that others have been where you are. They survived and so can you my dear."

I had not expected this level of tact and understanding and took comfort in knowing I could talk freely to Louisa without being afraid of her disapproval.

As mine was the last appointment of the day, we talked long past the allotted hour. I told Louisa everything. The words poured out of me until there was nothing left to say. I was drained and exhausted at the end of it.

"We have much to discuss further Catherine and there is some urgency to it because you're already at least two months into your pregnancy. Normally I would not rush this kind of thing but you have an important decision to make and only a few weeks left in which to make it. I could make an urgent application for a second trimester termination, based on your circumstances. That is, of course, if you choose to terminate the pregnancy. There are other options we can discuss."

"I don't want anyone else to know who the father is." I said hurriedly. "No one must know. Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't. I won't tell Catherine. It's ok. I won't do anything without your knowledge and consent." She assured me.

"This does mean that you only have the next two or three weeks to make a decision. You must be exhausted so you should go home now and get some rest. I'll schedule another appointment for tomorrow and we can talk about this further. You're not alone my dear. You can get through this."

I thanked her sincerely and took down the details of my next appointment. Assuring her I could get home safely on my own, I left her office feeling better than I had since the last time I'd seen Thomas. I had a chance of getting through this. I just had to remain strong.