“You don’t mean that. You’re angry now, I understand. You just need some time to calm down. I’m sorry, Lucy, that things had to happen this way—”
“I hate you,” I cut him off.
“You don’t,” he said after a moment, “and this is the most dishonest conversation we’ve ever had. I’m not sorry, actually. I’m excited that we’re having a baby. And I don’t think you hate me. I know you don’t.”
“I mean every word I just said to you. You make me sick. You really do. The way you went on and on about how important truth was to you. Do you remember how you felt when you discovered your last girlfriend lied to you for so long? That’s exactly how I feel now. I really, truly do hate you and I’m not going to be in a relationship with you again, and that’s the bitter truth, not that you would recognize truth if it bit you on the ass—”
“Lucy, enough! You’re tired, you’re angry.”
“No, I’m not angry, I’m not tired! You know what I am, Matthew? I’m defeated. I’m done.
My career is over. The love I had for you is gone, completely gone. I’m carrying a baby I don’t want, that I’m probably just going to get rid of, and then I’ll have to live with that guilt my whole fucking life even though it was your fault. But I prefer that to living with you, to having a baby with you after what you did to me, this awful disregard for me, this rape of my life—”
“Lucy,” he cautioned, “do not. Do not call it that.”
“That’s what it is, so just...go. I’m done. There were a lot of things you did to me that hurt, but I liked them, I wanted them. But this, I don’t want it. I keep waiting to wake up and find it was all just a dream.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. What I did was wrong, but what’s done is done.
You know I didn’t do it to hurt you. And I didn’t...I really...I only half thought it would work.”
“But it didn’t half work, because you didn’t half do it, did you? You did it all the way. You came inside me while I wasn’t even conscious, Matthew! What’s wrong with you?”
“Four times,” he murmured.
“What?”
“I came inside you four times, actually.”
“Oh, four times. That’s just great. Congratulations,” I said sarcastically. “Your guys can swim, you must be so proud. But I’m not having your fucking baby. Not a fucking chance. No.”
“Grégoire told me you didn’t believe in abortion.”
“I didn’t, until now. Now I think maybe in cases of rape it’s justified.”
“I didn’t rape you!”
“Yes, you did! It sure as hell wasn’t consensual!”
“Rape is something else, Lucy. It isn’t done with love. It isn’t done to help someone—”
“I fucking know what rape is! Believe me, I know. No one knows better than me, because I’ve been there, and now I feel like I’m right back there again.”
“Oh Jesus, Lucy, please.”
I turned away from him.
“What can I do?” He tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away, pulled myself as far away from him as I could.
“Leave or I’ll call the nurse.”
“Let’s talk about things again in a few days. Things might look different in a few days.”
“No, things are very clear right now.” I stared at the light blue wallpaper on the wall, the wallpaper that was the same pale blue color as his eyes. “I’m done. I know that. I’m sure of it.
This has gone too far for me. Mercy, Matthew. Mercy, okay? Mercy makes it end, that’s what you told me once. I want it to end.”
Again he reached for me, and I pushed the nurse call button.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll leave you alone. But don’t do anything, Lucy. Don’t do anything, okay? Until we talk again.”
I bit my lip. I was making him no promises after all his lies.
And no, of course I wasn’t going to have an abortion. I just wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me. Let him believe I was going to get it taken care of, let him feel that pain of cold-hearted betrayal, the same pain I was feeling now. Just one little lie, but everything else I’d said was true. I was done with him, done with his peculiar one-sided brand of honesty. In my mind, it was already completely over. Convincing him would be more difficult, but eventually he’d understand.
* * *
A couple hours later, Grégoire mustered up the courage to visit me. He lingered at the door like a repentant puppy, gauging my mood before he dared come near. I wished I had a rolled up newspaper to smack him with.
“I’ll only come in if you promise to listen to me, to listen to my side of the story.”
“What other side is there?” I snapped. “I was completely passed out.”
“His side. What did he tell you?”
“Nothing. I sent him away. I have less than no interest in what he has to say.”
“He didn’t explain to you why he did it?” He was still talking to me from the door.
“I know why he did it, but it was still wrong! And you...he never would have thought of it on his own. So this is as much your fault as his.”
“God, Lucy. I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. I can’t stand it, I couldn’t stand it...if you won’t be my friend...”
Grégoire’s tears finally undid me. I started to cry too. It was all so sad and ugly. My lips trembled and my words came out in a rush.
“I need you now, G. I need you to be my friend, now more than ever.” I reached out for him and he came to me, enveloping me in his arms. I cried into his shoulder, the shoulder I’d leaned on so many times both in dancing and in life.
“I can’t believe we’re not going to dance together again. I just can’t believe it’s over,” I sobbed.
“Aw, Lucy, it’s not over. Don’t say that, not yet.”
“But it is, isn’t it? I’ll never dance again. I can’t. I’ll miss dancing with you most of all, G.
How can it be over? Forever? I just wasn’t ready for it to be over!”
“I know, sweet, I know.” He crooned to me quietly, trying to soothe me. I don’t know what he said. I was crying way too hard to listen. The thought of never again moving across a stage with Grégoire, soaring through space propelled by his agile hands, it killed me. I looked down at his hand patting my leg gently, felt his soft, fine black hair brushing against my cheek. The smell of him, the solid feel of him against me. I knew why I was so sad. I’d lost not one lover, but two.
Besides that, besides being alone and losing my lovers, I would get fat and awkward when I’d been sleek and graceful all my life. I’d get fat with a baby I didn’t want, that I’d resent, and then I’d have to live with the guilt of giving away my flesh and blood to some strangers because I was too selfish to love it. I felt like my life was over, and nothing in my future seemed worth living for.
“It will be okay,” he said when I’d calmed down enough to listen. “Everything will be okay.
Maybe you can become a teacher.”
“I don’t want to be a teacher.”
“You say that now, but you’ll miss dancing. You’ll miss it enough to do anything, I think.
And you’ll have this little one to teach dancing to.” He laid his hand on my belly. “It would be a shame to waste your genes.”
“No,” I said. “No, never. No child of mine will ever be a dancer—”
“Lucy. If you hate dance so much, why are you going on and on about how much you’ll miss it?”
“You know why. You know exactly why.” He fell quiet. He did understand the love/hate relationship we all had with dance. His joints were nowhere near as bad as mine, but the end would come for him too. “I can’t stand to think of this baby going through this pain and loss someday...”
At that moment, as I said those words, I realized with horror that I was already protecting the thing inside me, and there would be no way to let it go. I was already attached to it, as much as I hated it. Grégoire still had hi