"So, what do you want to do for your 23rd birthday, Hondo?" asked my boyfriend of just over one year and the love of my life.
"I want a roller-skating party," I said hopefully. "I know it sounds silly, but I would love nothing more than to get all of my friends together and have a skate party at Crystal Palace. And I want a brand new pair of roller skates ... with hot-pink wheels and a big rubber stopper and I want a giant birthday cake and tons of balloons, but most of all, I want to skate couples with you." I sounded like a 12-year-old, but it was what I wanted more than anything else in the world.
He shook his head and for a brief moment I was afraid he would tell me to take a hike, but he didn't. He always gave in to my every whim. He loved to make me happy and I honestly believed that he was put on this Earth to do just that. Even though he knew all about me—all the ugly little secrets that I had hidden away from the rest of the world as a child, I had entrusted him with, and he still loved me. In fact, to this day I believe it is because of all of the adversity I had to overcome that made him love me so much. He said that I appreciated everything, even the smallest gestures and that my heart was true and good. He said that there wasn't anyone like me and he swore he'd never let me get away. We were just kids, but we were crazy in love.
And so, on my 23rd birthday, I was skating awkwardly backwards, completely out of practice as he held onto me for dear life. Journey was on the stereo singing, "I'm forever yours ... Faithfully ..." And everything was right with the world. It was the best birthday I could ever remember and later that night as he held me in his arms, tears streamed from my eyes and into my hair.
"Hey," he whispered in the darkness, holding me tightly, "what's this all about?"
"It's just that ... that ... I ... I never knew ... I never dreamed ...," my crying turning into big blubbery sobs.
He held me tighter still. "There, there, it's all right, shhhhh."
"No one has ..." Sniff, Sniff. I tried to regain my composure. "... Ever loved me so much ... I've never been so happy ... you skated with me ... and you sucked, but you ... still skated with me ... I ... love ... you."
I started to sob again. "I feel so ... so ... safe and loved and ... happy." That hadn't always been the case in my life, and he knew it.
"I'll skate couples with you for the rest of your life," he said, kissing the diamond solitaire pendant on my neck that he'd just presented me with for my birthday. It was smaller than the eraser at the end of a No. 2 pencil, but to me it was the most fabulous, glamorous diamond ever made. "Even if I do suck," he said playfully. "And do you know why?" he asked, still kissing me gently.
I shook my head, afraid that if I spoke I'd start to bawl again.
"Because you're my Pook and I love you, that's why. And no one is ever going to hurt you again, you hear me?" And I believed him.
The next week, as I sat in the tiny exam room waiting to see the doctor for my annual "woman's stuff" appointment, I was daydreaming about what an incredible birthday I'd had and how he went to such lengths to make sure it was special. God, I loved him so.
"First day of your last menstrual cycle?" asked the nurse, interrupting my reverie.
"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, hmmm," I said, counting back. Sensing that I couldn't quite remember, she handed me a calendar. "Thanks," I said, staring at it blankly. Geez, when was my last cycle? Being that I weighed 99 pounds soaking wet, they had always been irregular; I had to remember to ask the doctor about that. "Um, I'm not sure," I said.
"Are you pregnant?" she asked, smiling.
"Oh, no. No! No way. Nope," I said.
"Are you sure?" she asked, still smiling.
"Totally sure. We've been really careful. See, I left my old company and just started with a new broadcasting group and so I had to wait 90 days for my insurance to kick in." I was babbling. "And I was all out of pills, so we have just been, well, you know," I said, shifting uncomfortably. "Yeah, we've been really careful, so um ..."
"Why don't we just take a test to make sure?" she asked.
"Well, we can, but really, there's no need. I've been really stressed out lately, what with the new job and. ..." By this point she had her hand on my back as she guided me into the ladies room with a little plastic stick.
Three minutes later she looked at the stick. "Negative," she said, writing in my file.
Whew! We really dodged a bullet; I couldn't wait to tell my fella; we'd have a good laugh about it later. I mean, thank goodness, right? I was only 23, for crying out loud, and although we'd talked about it more and more frequently, we weren't even married yet. There was no way we were ready for a baby. So why did I feel a slight pang of disappointment?
"Oh, will you look at that?" said the nurse.
"Huh?" I said numbly, tuning back in.
She opened the drawer at her desk and pulled out a tube of Wite-Out. And just like that, she changed my negative to a positive.
Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?