After his cousin Richard’s wedding, my older man, Keegan, and I were so loved up and comfortable because of and in spite of our age differences. We both knew that marriage, kids, and a house were in order for us, but it didn’t come in quite that order. We had been house hunting together, but since I was well seated in my career, I insisted that I absolutely had to buy my own first home, by myself, without his money or jointly with him, in case things didn’t work out due to our age difference.
I had an offer accepted on a duplex in a small community with a good school district; we were both very excited about it. At the same time, I hadn’t been feeling quite well. My period was late and then it dawned on me that I may very well be pregnant.
I was scared and worried about being pregnant, as I had been drinking at his cousin’s wedding, and I did not want to be “that girl.” You know, the girl who had a baby out of wedlock to an older man, the girl who isn’t prepared and living in a tiny apartment with a neighbor downstairs who smokes like a chimney. I didn’t want to be that statistic.
However, there were bigger things on my plate that required my attention at that time. Keegan and I were doing great, but the situation with the duplex was not working out. The tenants started smashing up the house, the seller stopped communicating, and Keegan and I started fighting about what to do with the duplex. After much negotiating, arguing, pleading, and even crying, I backed out of the deal.
While I was at it, I was so angry Keegan tried to push me into continuing with what I thought was a bad sale, that I even ended things with him as well. We were done. I left him a note and told him to grab his shit from my apartment and get the hell out, and that I never wanted to see or hear from him again. Why on earth did I do that? To be honest, I have no idea. I was just upset. Now, looking back, I can see that I absolutely overreacted with the breakup, but I don’t think it was just because of the real estate deal going sour. There was something else going on with my body.
When I got back to my apartment the evening after I had left him a note to get his stuff out, I was exhausted. I had turned off my phone and just wanted to be alone. I had some Chinese takeout, four different boxes of pregnancy tests, and several chocolate bars. Whatever was going to come of the test, I would work it out somehow. I was absolutely devastated, but even more determined, despite the heartache of losing Keegan so quickly after such a lovely weekend together with his family.
So, there I was, standing in my apartment that had been professionally cleaned, with just my stuff inside. But there were flowers in every room, which didn’t take much since the place was so terribly tiny, along with chocolates near every bouquet and small trinkets of affection from Keegan in every room. A single card was on the coffee table with a picture of a little boy in an old man’s jacket and hat, handing a single red rose to a little girl.
Inside the card, he wrote, “Vivian, I was wrong. I should have respected your choices and I overstepped my bounds. I guess I had this coming, but please know that I am very, truly sorry for causing you any distress, for arguing, and for everything. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me enough to see me one last time, I promise you, I will be the man you need. Love, Keegan.”
I started crying, but I couldn’t stop thinking about those pregnancy tests. I really had to pee, so I decided it was time. So, test after test, after test, after test—I peed on every single pregnancy stick purchased and each one kept saying the same thing over and over…