“Do you really think I'll be a mess for six months?” She sounded worried. This was scary for her too. More than for him. He hated the inconvenience, she had to deal with it, either way. It was traumatic for her.

“I hope not,” he answered her question. “Just go to sleep.”

She tossed and turned all night, and when he woke up in the morning, she was in the bathroom and he could hear her getting sick. He stood outside the bathroom door, wincing. It sounded rough.

“Shit,” he said out loud and went to shower and shave. She came out ten minutes later. He had kept his bathroom door open so he could see her when she did. She looked green. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I'm great.”

He made her tea and toast when he was dressed, told her he'd call her from the office, and kissed her before he left. And then he thought of something terrifying on the way to work. She was Catholic. What if she refused to have an abortion? Now that really would be a mess. What would he tell his kids? Or his parents? It didn't bear thinking. He made the necessary calls as soon as he got to the office, and called her at work at noon. He gave her the names of two doctors, in case one was too busy to see her, and told her to try and see one of them as soon as she could. She called both that day, used his name as he had told her to do, and got an appointment for the following afternoon. Adam offered to go with her, but she said she could handle it alone. At least she was being decent about it. But they hardly talked to each other that night. They were both too stressed.

The following night, after her appointment, she was in the apartment when he got home. It was her day off, and she was doing homework when he walked in.

“How did it go?”

“It went fine.” She didn't look up at him.

“How fine? What did he say?”

“He said it's a little late, but they can say that my mental health is at stake if I threaten suicide or something like that.”

“When are you doing it, then?” He sounded relieved, and there was a long pause as she looked up at him with huge eyes in a pale face. She didn't look well.

“I'm not.” It took a long moment for it register, and he stared at her.

“Say that again.”

“I'm not having an abortion,” she said carefully, and he could see from the look on her face that she meant it.

“What are you going to do about it? Give it away?” That was a lot more complicated and took a lot more explaining, but he was willing to do that too, if she preferred. She was Catholic after all.

“I'm having the baby. And I'm keeping it. I love you. I love your baby. I saw it on a sonogram. It's moving. It was sucking its thumb. I'm three and a half months pregnant. Sixteen weeks, the way they figure it, and I'm not giving it away.”

“Oh my God,” he said, letting himself fall into the nearest chair. “This is insane. You're keeping it? I'm not going to marry you. You know that, don't you? If that's what you think is going to happen, you're crazy. I'm never getting married again, to you or anyone else, with or without a baby.”

“I wouldn't marry you anyway,” she said, sitting up very straight in her chair. “I don't need you to marry me. I can take care of myself.” She always had before. Although she was terrified now, but she wouldn't admit it to him. She had spent the whole afternoon figuring out how she was going to pay for it. She was determined not to take anything from Adam. She had to do this herself. Even if she had to quit her job, give up school, and go on welfare. She wanted nothing from him.

“What are my kids going to think?” he said, with a look of panic. “How are we going to explain that to them?”

“I don't know. We should have thought of that on Yom Kippur.”

“Oh for God's sake, all I was thinking about on Yom Kippur was how much I hate my mother. I wasn't thinking about a baby.”

“Maybe it was meant to be,” she said, trying to be philosophical about it, but Adam didn't want to hear it.

“This was not meant to be. This was both of us being sloppy.”

“Maybe. But I love you, and even if you leave me right now, I'm having this baby.” She had dug her heels in and she wasn't moving an inch. The sonogram had done it. She was not killing their kid.

“I don't want a baby, Maggie.” He tried to reason with her.

“I'm not sure I do either, but that's what we've got. Or what I've got.” She sounded calm and unhappy. It was a lot to deal with, for both of them.

“I'm going to Vegas this weekend,” he said miserably. “We'll talk about it when I get back. Let's take a break from it till then. Let's both think some more, and maybe you'll change your mind.”

“I won't.” She was a mother lion defending her young.

“Don't be so stubborn.”

“Don't be so mean.” She looked at him sadly.

“I'm not being mean. I'm trying to be a good sport about this, but you're not making it easy. It's mean to have a baby that no one wants. I'm just not prepared to have a baby, Maggie. I don't want to get married again. I don't want a baby. I'm too old.”

“You're just too mean. You'd rather kill it,” she said, bursting into tears, and he wanted to cry himself.

“I'm not mean!” he shouted after her as she ran into the bathroom again, as much to hide from him as to be sick.

The rest of the week was no better. They stayed off the subject, but it hung between them like a nuclear bomb ready to go off. He was relieved to leave for Vegas on Thursday. He needed to get out. He stayed over on Sunday night. He was waiting for her when she got back from work on Monday. He was sitting in a chair with a look of resignation.

“How was your weekend?” she asked, but didn't come over to kiss him. She had been upset all weekend, and wondered if he was cheating on her because he was upset. She hadn't left the apartment, and she had cried herself to sleep every night, thinking that he hated her and would probably leave her and she'd be alone with their baby, and never see him again.

“It was fine. I did a lot of thinking.” Her heart nearly stopped as she waited for him to tell her that she had to move out. She had become an embarrassment to him.

“I think we should get married. You can come out to Vegas with me next week. I have to go back anyway. We'll get married quietly, and that'll be that.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean, 'that'll be that'? Then I leave, but the baby is legal?” She had thought of a thousand terrible scenarios, and not one good one. He had.

“No, then we're married, we have the baby, and we live our life. Together. With the baby. Okay? Now are you happy?” He didn't look happy either, but he was trying to do the right thing. “Besides, I love you.”

“ 'Besides,' I love you too, but I'm not going to marry you.” She looked quiet and determined.

“You're not? Why not?” He looked stunned. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

“I never said that. I said I was having the baby. I didn't say I wanted to get married,” she said resolutely as he stared at her.

“You don't want to get married?”

“No, I don't.”

“But what about the baby? Why don't you want to get married?”

“I'm not going to force you to marry me, Adam. And I don't want to get married 'quietly.' When I get married, I want to make a lot of noise. And I want to marry someone who wants to marry me, not someone who has to. Thank you very much, but my answer is no.”

“Please tell me you're joking,” he said, dropping his head into his hands.

“I'm not joking. I'm not asking you for money, and I'm not going to marry you. I'm going to take care of myself.”

“Are you leaving me?” He looked genuinely horrified at the thought.

“Of course not. I love you. Why would I leave you?”

“Because you said I was mean last week.”

“You're mean if you want to kill our baby. But you're not mean if you ask me to marry you. Thank you for that. I just don't want to, and neither do you.”

“Yes, I want to!” he shouted. “I love you. I want to marry you! Now will you do it?” He looked desperate, and she looked calmer by the minute. She had made up her mind, and he could see it too. “You are the stubbornest woman I've ever met.” She smiled at him, and he laughed. “That wasn't a compliment. Oh, for God's sake, Maggie.” He came and put his arms around her and kissed her for the first time in a week. “I love you, please marry me. Let's just get married, have the baby, and try to do it right.”

“If we'd done it right, we would have gotten married, and then had the baby. But you'd never have married me then, so why do it now?”

“Because you're having a baby,” he nearly screamed.

“Well, get over it. I'm not getting married.”

“Shit,” he said, and went and poured himself a shot of tequila, which he downed at one gulp.

“You can't drink. We're pregnant,” she said primly, and he gave her an evil look.

“Very funny. I may become an alcoholic before this is over.”

“Don't,” she said gently. “It'll be okay, Adam. We'll work it out. And you don't have to marry me. Ever.”

“What if I want to marry you someday?” He looked worried.

“Then we'll get married. But you don't want to right now. I know it. You know it. And one day the baby would know it.”

“I won't tell him.”

“You might.” People did things like that sometimes. I had to marry your mother.… She didn't want that for her child. And she didn't want to take advantage of him, even if he was willing to do the right thing.

“Why are you so fucking honorable? Every other woman I've ever known wants me to pay their bills, marry them, get them jobs, and do a million other things for them. You don't want shit from me.”

“That's right. Just your baby. Our baby,” she said proudly.