It’s a few moments before I reply.
“I never thought I’d be able to say the same...yet here I am.” I turn to her and smile, and the one she gives me back melts my heart all over again.
“I can’t wait to see this child come into this world, Cassie,” I whisper. “I’ll give it everything I can in this harsh world.”
“It’s a boy,” Cassie whispers back, and I blink, peering at her.
“How do you know?”
“Just do,” she says with a tilt of her head.
I watch her for a moment, then chuckle and feel giddy, my mind swimming with thoughts. “I suppose we’ll have to decide on a name — and whether it will be an American or Russian one.”
“I’m open to ideas,” she says with a grin, then closes her eyes and cuddles into me.
My chest moves up and down slowly, and I’m about to drift into a light doze when her voice reaches my ears again and snaps me back to attention.
“I can’t wait to tell my parents.”
18
Cassie
I stare down at the cell phone in my lap, the fancy new iPhone I’ve hardly used since Andrei bought it for me a month ago. I’ve never had my own phone before, and I generally only used it to look things up and play games. But now, holding it in my trembling hand, there is a truly serious call I needed to make.
It’s time to contact my parents.
Ever since the wedding, I’ve had to push them out of my mind just to get through. Being with Andrei nearly every waking hour has certainly helped assuage my homesickness, as well as distract me from my conflicted emotions regarding my mother and father and what they did to me. At first, they were constantly on my mind, their stern voices scolding me and shaming me for everything I did. But over time, their influence over me has waned, and I’ve started to finally feel more independent — like my decisions are finally mine to make. I’ve had to grow up fast, after eighteen years of living in a conservative vacuum with my insular community.
And now I’m making a huge leap into full adulthood, taking on the ultimate responsibility: motherhood. Butterflies flit around in my gut just thinking about it. Curled up on the couch in the living room, I look up out of the huge window to watch the sun starting its slow descent toward the peach-pink horizon. I smile nervously to myself and rub my hand over my stomach, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that there is a tiny flicker of life growing inside.
I’ve got to call them. I need to. I’m having their first grandchild! Surely they will be ecstatic to hear this news. I can’t imagine them reacting negatively to something so pure and beautiful as a new baby. After all, as a woman of God, it is one of my primary duties in life to have kids. Surely they’ll appreciate that.
Even if they disapprove of everything else. But… I don’t have to give them all the details, do I? They don’t need to know what all I’ve been up to since they married me off to a big, strong, mysterious stranger. But they do need to know that I’m having a baby with him!
My heart hammers in my chest and I bite my lip anxiously as I slide the phone screen open and click on the call icon. I dial my parents’ phone number, the only number I’ve ever memorized besides 911, then hesitate before pressing “CALL.” My thumb hovers over the button for a full ten seconds while I start to reconsider. What if they ask too many questions? What if they are disappointed in me?
No, I tell myself firmly. They love me. And they will love this baby, too.
With that warm thought, I smile to myself and confidently press the call button, lifting the phone to my ear. I listen to the ticking sound of my phone trying to connect, my heartbeat at a galloping pace by now. I wonder who will pick up the phone? It’s a home line, and part of me hopes that Isaiah beats them to the phone so I can finally hear his voice again. My soul aches for such a sweet, familiar voice.
After a couple seconds, I scowl at the phone, wondering when it’s going to start ringing. Perhaps I just don’t get very good service in this particular spot, I think to myself. So I get up and walk into the bedroom, pacing while the line still attempts to connect.
Finally, there is a pause… and then a loud BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.
A female voice says, “We’re sorry. Your phone call could not be completed as dialed. This number has been disconnected. Please check to make sure you have dialed the correct number and try again.” Then there’s a final beep and the line goes quiet, the call ended.
My blood runs cold, but I refuse to believe it. I check the number, make sure I typed it in correctly, then press “call” again. I bite my nails as I pace back and forth in the bedroom, getting impatient as the phone tries once again to connect, only to receive the same error message.