The shade of the chestnut tree was heavenly and the two of us leaned against its thick trunk.
"I think I'm pregnant," I said to Caleb never taking my eyes off my tired looking shoes as I did so.
My name is Irene Best, and I am dating the twenty five year old son of a Scottish minister. I am not pregnant. In my own childish way, I am testing my boyfriend to find out if he thinks enough of me to stick around, should I accidentally become pregnant. You don't have to tell me, it's shallow and deceptive at the same time. The truth is, I don't think I'm good enough for him. I have terrible insecurities. Throw in the fact that I've always wanted a large family when I get married, if I get married, and what do you have? A potential recipe for disaster that's what. He told me right from the start that he didn't want kids. Did I listen? Like all women 'hell bent' on being the only one who can change a man from the proverbial 'bad boy' into a doting husband with three or four kids, I chose to put him to the test.
"I'm going to wait one more week, then make an appointment with our family doctor," I said, running my fingers idly through a deep crease in the trunk of the chestnut tree.
Still no response from the man of my dreams. Is he pondering the idea of marriage? More likely is the possibility that he is toying with the idea of giving me the boot. I wish he would just say something. Anything.
"Of course I'll have to tell my parents, and I would appreciate it if you were there for support."
I want to make eye contact, but I can't afford to. For one thing, it should be guilt that keeps my head looking down. Looking up would be like having a 'tell' in poker, signaling the fact that I am bluffing. I desperately want to see his face and gauge how the news is affecting him, but I manage to fight the urge.
"They're going to be terribly disappointed in me," I said, still looking at my feet.
I know what you're probably thinking. If he decides to stand by me, then I will go ahead and try to really get pregnant. This I won't do. If he commits and then finds out that I'm not pregnant, chances are he will still be one step closer to thinking about marriage having already considered it, am I right? That's the hand I'm betting on right now. Why doesn't he say something?
"I would imagine your father will be equally devastated, what with him being a minister."
"You know what?" he said, "you're absolutely right."
"I am?" I said, taken aback at his sudden willingness to join in the conversation.
"Absolutely," he confirmed, "let's go straight to your parents house and break the news together, just like you suggested."
"I think it's probably best if we leave it for another week, just to make sure, don't you?"
"Nonsense," he said, grabbing my hand and dragging me away from the shade of the chestnut tree.
"Now that I think about it, I can't believe how excited I am at the prospect," he said with that tone of finality in his voice.
I should have been elated at his last remark. Why then was my stomach churning. What if I couldn't persuade him to wait another week just in case my 'fake overdue' period showed up? The chestnut tree was perhaps three hundred yards from my father's front door and at our current pace, no more than three minutes away from either me coming clean or him addressing my father. I had three minutes to persuade him to wait just long enough for me to 'find out' that I'm not pregnant.
"I really, really think we should wait another week," I said, trying my best to keep the fear out of my voice, "my period has been known to be a month late. Really, it has."
"Irene," he said, "I know your dad is going to be really pissed when I give him the news, but please don't try to dissuade me. As the man involved, it is my duty to give him the news, not yours."
"That's okay," I begged, my voice close to breaking now, "you go home. Knowing my dad, that kind of news would probably be best coming from me, anyway."
He stopped in his tracks, my father's front door a mere hundred yards from where we stood.
"What kind of man would I be if I let you do that Irene? He must be home, his car is parked outside, come on."
"Okay, okay! I'm not pregnant, I was just... testing you." The world stopped turning right about then. At least my world did.
"What!" he gasped, the sheer horror of the enormity of my betrayal etched all over his features. You would do that to me?"
Shakily I sat down on the warm pavement, my legs buckling from underneath me. I felt sick, and my oxygen supply seemed to have run out. I could hardly breathe. My eyes are darting everywhere as I search for a solution and try my best to salvage something from the nightmare I alone created.
"I'm sorry," I kept repeating, "it was only a bit of fun..."
"Fun? This is your idea of fun? I'm sorry Irene, this changes everything. I would never have believed that a woman would put a man that she had any real respect for, through such an ordeal. I'm sorry, I can't handle this, it's just too... cruel."
There was nothing false about the tears that were coursing down my pale cheeks though. I begged. He stood his ground. I pleaded, and for a second it looked as if he was reconsidering, then he shook his head. It was over, my bluff had been called. I ran the last hundred yards to my house and burst through the front door, leaving it swinging in my wake. It would be three weeks and one overheard conversation later that made me realize that he had made up his mind to dump me long before I concocted up my idiotic plan. Now I felt doubly stupid. He had played me perfectly, letting me believe that my silly test had been my downfall. He must have had a good old laugh at my expense. I was wrong to do what I did, but I was in love. Clearly he never was.
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