Free The Day to Remember by Jessica Wood Page A

Brandon. Live a little,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “ It’s just a beer. I have a couple of leftovers in the fridge, and well, as we both know, I can’t drink now, so I need someone to finish them off for me. Don’t tell me you’re okay with wasting beer?”
    “Sorry. Thanks,” I said as I took the beer from Des. My eyes darted to the growing bump on her stomach, and a bolt of fear and excitement shot through me. Competing thoughts crossed my mind: I’m going to be a father. How will Emma react to the news? Will I be ready for all this?
    “Stop staring at me like that.” Des’s voice broke through my thoughts. I blinked and looked up at her.
    “What?”
    “You were staring at my stomach like you were in a trance. It’s creeping me out.” I can tell from her voice that she was more amused than serious.
    “Sorry, I just spaced out for a second there.” Then a thought came to me. “Hey, how come you didn’t tell me sooner about you being pregnant?”
    Her expression stiffened and a few seconds passed before she responded, “Well, things were a little awkward after we slept together. I could tell you were avoiding me, so I wanted to give you some space. I wasn’t sure until I took a pregnancy test two months later, in September. After that, I was still trying to decide whether I wanted to keep it, to even tell you.” She avoided my eye contact, and I wasn’t sure if she was crying.
    “What made you decide that you wanted to keep it?”
    “Because it was your child— our child. I would never intentionally destroy a part of you that’s inside me.”
    “Oh.” I grappled with the meaning behind Des’s words. “Des, I’m … I’m sorry. I wish I could give you what you want and what you deserve …” My words trailed off.
    “You can,” she whispered. My heart ached for her because we both knew that it wasn’t true.
    About an hour later, I had finished off most of my beef and broccoli, half of the chow mien, and three beers. We ate mostly in silence as I checked and responded to some work emails. I felt myself relax a little from the beers as my muscles began to ache from the long day of heavy-lifting. I stretched and rubbed my neck with my arms.
    “Do you need a back massage over there?” Des asked from a few feet away.
    “Come on, Des. I’m here to help you move. Nothing else. We’ve gone over this already. Don’t push your luck.” I knew I needed to make it clear to Des where I stood with her. I needed there to be no doubt in her mind.
    “Alright, alright,” she said with her arms in the air. “I was just joking. You used to have a sense of humor, Brandon. What happened to you?”
    “Sorry, Des. I just have a lot of on my mind. I know we both made the mistake that night when we slept together. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
    “Brandon, it wasn’t a mistake for me.” I hear d the hurt in her voice.
    “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
    I heard her sigh as she rubbed her tired eyes with her hand. “I’m tired, Brandon. I’m going to go take a shower and get ready for bed.”
    As she walked away, I was filled with guilt at my harsh words. I knew that I was more at fault than Des was.
    I thought back to July when everything happened. Des had called me in the middle of the night in hysterics. She told me that her father had suffered a cardiac arrest earlier that week. They had rushed him to the ER, but attempts to resuscitate him had failed, and he had died en route to the ER. When she called, it was the night of her father’s funeral. She was really drunk and was talking irrationally about the meaning of life. Worried that she would hurt herself, I went out and found her roaming around on the beach by herself and brought her back to my place. When we got to my place, she wanted more alcohol and threatened to leave or scream if I didn’t give her some. She said she needed to numb the pain. It was a feeling that hit close to home. I had offered her