How to Cook a Dragon by Linda Furiya

Author:Linda Furiya
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Publisher: Seal Press
Published: 2014-06-27T16:07:36.801973+00:00

I took a cab straight from the medical center to Eric’s office. By this time the skies were dark and spring rain showers were falling. I didn’t know if he would be free to talk; all I knew was that I needed to see him before I went crazy.

By the time the cab pulled up to the white tile-topped pagoda building where Eric’s office was, every imaginable insecurity and fear about our relationship was thrashing around inside me like fluttering moths.

Questions streamed through my head with alarming intensity: Would Eric want to keep the baby? Did I want to keep the baby? Would he think I expected him to marry me because I was pregnant? Would he think I’d done this as a way to get him to marry me? If he asked me to marry him, would it be because he wanted to or because he felt he had to?

I found Eric on the phone in his office, making dinner plans with Andrew while trying to fax a document. He smiled and waved when I walked in.

Eric put his hand over the receiver and asked, “How about having Andrew over for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know, can we talk—” I walked across the room and sat down in one of his chairs. There was a loud beep as the fax machine jammed.

“Darn it! Andrew, let me ask my other half and call you back,” Eric said, trying to open the fax machine with his free hand. “This machine is driving me nuts!”

“Eric, I have to talk to you about something.”

“Hey, can you bring me the roll of paper towels over there? I have ink all over my hands.”

I stood up and took the paper towels from the credenza to him, then closed his office door.

He looked at me quizzically as he wiped his hands and sat behind his desk.

I sat back down and said calmly, “Eric, I went to the clinic today and had a pregnancy test. It turned out positive. I’m pregnant.”

I studied him carefully. His first reaction was crucial to me.

He tilted his head back against his chair and rubbed his face with both hands, then sat forward to rest his face in his hands and his elbows on the desk.

He looked at me and said, “Fuck.”

I felt as if I were sitting in the principal’s office or in front of my parents, admitting to a mistake and waiting to hear what my punishment would be.

I knew this wasn’t a fair way of approaching the situation. My being pregnant was a surprise, an accident, and I was springing it on him. I couldn’t know what was going on in his mind.

I kept telling myself that we were both responsible for this. We were here, it had happened, and we would make a joint decision about what to do.

Eric took his face out of his hands and just looked at me—not accusingly or judgmentally or tenderly. He just looked at me.

I felt like I had to say something, but all that came out was “I guess this answers your question about dinner with Andrew tonight.

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