The Proposal

Photo courtesy of Pretty Little Liars.

I could’ve actually let Jane drive me back to the apartment, the problem is I won’t be able to stop by the drugstore to buy a pregnancy test. She would never let me out of the car without a thousand questions about it.

As soon as I parked in the driveway, I immediately run to the bathroom in our room. I quickly inspected the house and concluded that Nate went out for a run. He always does at this hour, and I guess, my reply was enough to relax him and get around to his usual daily routine. I saw his laptop plugged in on his usual working corner, and a fresh set of clothes for when he gets back.

I tore the wrapper off the stick and made the necessary squat and pee. I haven’t been done yet and I already heard the door of the room open and shut. Nate’s here. And he also checked the bathroom door, realizing someone’s in there, he shouted:

“Marg, is that you?”

I snapped, and quickly stood up from the toilet. Holding the stick in my hand, I opened the door, as if by reflex.

He looked at me, and his eyes suddenly got fixated on the stick in my hand.

“Honey.” He said, in his calming voice, somehow, hinting the nervousness behind it. He holds my other hand and brings me to the bed, like I was hypnotized by simply being around him. He pushed me to sit down on the side while he moves next to me. The stick is still on the other hand. I cannot look at him. I can only look at my lap.

“Look. Here’s the thing. I love you and I’m ready to be with you. I’m ready to give myself to you, Margo.” He started to say, and somehow, I don’t know where he’s getting at.

“It’s just that,” he continues. “I don’t know if we’re ready to commit to this thing.”

“What?” I finally found my voice, and at the same time I realized how confused I am.

“No. What I mean is, I love you. And I can commit TO YOU. I will commit to you. But maybe, we should do something. I mean, wouldn’t it be fun if we just have a time of our own? Just the two of us. It’s enough for you, right? Am I not enough for you?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Still trying to figure out what he means.

“I’m just saying, let’s get married, okay? Will that not make you happy? Will that not make you feel enough?”

“And,” I said, finally understanding what he wants to do. “At the expense of our marriage, you want me to not be pregnant, is that it?” I suddenly put the stick under my butt, as if hiding it means hiding the very thing that we wanted to detect by it.

“Well, it sounds awful if you put it that way.”

“It is awful, and there’s no other way to put it!” Now, i feel the anger rushing in.

“I just wanted us to have a time for ourselves after marriage. Just the two of us, enjoying each other’s company. My friend said that somehow, it made their relationship stronger.”

“What made them stronger? Marriage? Or the abortion that you’re actually subtly suggesting.”

“Hey, Margo! Can you not be so angry about it. Let’s try to make sense of this.”

“Okay. Let’s. You want us to get married, and get rid of the baby? That’s the solution that you came up with?”

“We can compromise!”

“Compromise, how? What if I wanted to actually have the baby?”

“You don’t believe that, how can you raise a baby at this age? We’re just at our 20’s. We’re still enjoying our life.”

“Yes. But, I don’t like the idea of abortion.”

“Then don’t think of it that way. Think of it as a medical thing. It’s avoiding something that you are not ready for.”

“But how do you know that I’m not ready for it?”

“Because I am not, so I know that you’re not either. I’m not ready to be a father. I can’t be a father.” He finally said it, exasperated. And at the end of the sentence, I sensed how blurting it out somehow made him feel better. Like he’s no longer tensed of the situation.

“Then maybe that’s the problem, you’re the problem.” I said, as if giving up with the situation. I finally knew what I wanted. And seeing how different he wants to approach this disgusts me.

“Look, we’ll get married. I’m gonna be there for you. I’ll be your husband, your partner.”

“And you’ll do that if we’re not having a baby now?”

“Well, yes.” He said, not proud of his answer.

“Then, I don’t want a marriage.”

“But I can’t…”

“And you can’t have a baby. So I guess, this is it. Maybe we’re done.”

“Maybe? That’s a maybe Marg, what I’m offering you is a full time commitment.”

“You’re offering something that you don’t know how to give Nate! I’m done. This is finished.”

I stood up and went straight to the bathroom. I locked myself in, even though I don’t really know for how long I’ll be in. But with the looks of it, it wouldn’t be that long. I almost forgot the stick on my hand, and looked at it. Just a single line.

It’s a false alarm, but the alarm was loud enough for me to wake up from my dream to date the best version of Nate. I thought I wanted to be different from the other girls. I wanted to be someone who wouldn’t let Nate feel like he needs to change himself for me. So I let him be himself, while I struggle to adjust to his ways that I wouldn’t ever be comfortable with. I stopped being me so he can be just the way he is. I never knew that because of that, he’d actually want to force himself to do something he resisted from the beginning, and I ended up turning my back on that chance.

I looked at the stick that shouted NEGATIVE, and I’m left to wonder what to do now. I just broke up with my boyfriend for nothing. Is it for nothing? I don’t know anymore. I heard the bedroom door shut and I decided to come out of the room. He left the house without even calling me out. Is he okay with what just happened?


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