[ WP ] A 25 year old reacts to his girlfriend admitting that she is pregnant . A true , honest-to-god reaction .

`` I've been thinking,'' she calls to me. `` About us.'' 
 
 `` Okay.'' It's a weird time to have a conversation, hanging off a mountain, but Steff's always been a talker. `` I hope you're not going to dump me.'' 
 
 It hangs there in the cold dry air between us, words falling like hope dropping like sales numbers and loans declined. This trip was on her dime. She would n't take me all the way up here just to dump me, would she? 
 
 *She might, to* drop *me*, the writer part of my brain says. But that's the writer brain, not the woman. Stupid. 
 
 `` Steff?'' 
 
 She's leaning back against the harness, looking back at me and out over the cloudshadowed prairie beneath us. The wind whipping her hair into a golden halo, freezing the tears on her cheeks. 
 
 Tears. Hold it. 
 
 `` What's up?'' 
 
 `` This,'' she says. `` This thing. Where I support you. I do n't mind, I do n't, really.'' 
 
 *Get a job, hippie, * she means. But the new book, the new book is, it's going so well -- 
 
 `` Okay,'' I say. Cautious as a cat. I walk my way up the rock to her. We're separated by six feet. Safe. `` You said it would n't be --'' 
 
 `` It has n't,'' she says. `` Only, things are changing.'' 
 
 I blink. The marriage thing? `` I thought -- I mean, you know I ca n't afford a ring. Not right now. But if you want --'' 
 
 Her hair blows around her face as she shakes her head. `` Not that. I do n't care about that. Well, maybe I might. But not yet. You're just a kid.'' 
 
 `` You're not *that* much older than me,'' I say. It falls flat. She's thirty-three. Eight years right now is a lifetime. My legs are shaking. *Is* she dumping me? Up here, halfway up a mountain? 
 
 `` I'm quitting,'' she says. `` I have to.'' 
 
 Did n't see *that* coming. `` Um. Why? I thought you loved --'' 
 
 `` I ca n't work sixty hours a week anymore,'' she says. She closes her eyes. `` I'm pregnant, Marc.'' 
 
 `` Um.'' *Is it mine* comes to mind. But that's the writer brain again. 
 
 `` Yeah.'' She opens her eyes again, looks at me, hard. Her eyes as blue as the sky around us, the dry air bringing out the faint wrinkles around her them. 
 
 I look past her, up the mountain. Joe and Al said I was just her boy toy, her kept man. I was okay with that. When it was just sex and trips and fun and time to write while she was at the office doing whatever it is that bank vice presidents do. This? This is... 
 
 `` You're keeping it?'' I ask. She was talking about a change. That only happens if -- 
 
 My dad ran off when I was nine. My stepdad beat me. My mom, let's not even talk about her. I do n't know jack all about being a father. When Steff said she did n't want kids, just wanted to have fun, that was fine by me. Still would be. 
 
 But. 
 
 `` We're keeping it,'' I say. Looking at her. *Looking* at her. At the vulnerability in her eyes. The roundness to her face that I had n't seen before. `` You and me. And we're getting married.'' 
 
 `` Marc --'' 
 
 There are tears in the corners of my eyes now. A lump in my throat. `` I love you, Steff. Have, for a while, but I have n't said it. Because you did n't want that, you said.'' 
 
 `` I do n't.'' 
 
 She came from the same kind of situation I did. Worse, I think. But she wo n't ever talk about it. We were a perfect match. *Are* a perfect match. To the core. 
 
 I move closer to her along the rock. I can reach out to touch her, now. I do. Her cheek is cold. Slick with tears. 
 
 `` I'm not him,'' I tell her. Meaning, my him. Her him. Either. Both. `` And you love me. You do.'' 
 
 `` No,'' she says. Shaking her head hard. `` I'm sorry, Marc. But --'' 
 
 `` You double-checked my straps,'' I say, moving closer still. `` You asked whether I wanted fruit in my trail mix even though you know I almost always do. On the off chance that I might not, today, you asked.'' 
 
 `` That does n't --'' 
 
 `` I know you do n't want to believe it,'' I tell her. My heart thumping. My legs weak. `` But you love me. Even if you ca n't say it.'' 
 
 We can live off her savings while I look for a job. I wo n't make what she did, of course. I have n't *had* a real job yet. But I'll do what I need to. To be father to our kid. Her husband. 
 
 `` And you're going to marry me.'' 
 
 She puts a hand on her belly. Rubs it up and down. Down and up. Toward her heart. 
 
 And she says yes. 
 
 
 
 

