Yesterwary

Lights weren’t very bright, in Yesterwary, but Demi had to squint against the dull blaze of a lantern above her. Blinking quickly until her vision focused, she took in her surroundings with confusion and just the slightest bit of fear. She was lying on a table in an unfamiliar room. Paper crinkled beneath her, and an array of ancient-looking medical instruments rested on a rusty tray at her side. Even if the conditions had been more sanitary, she never would have trusted such objects to be anywhere on, in, or near her body, and it caused her a moderate amount of concern that the morgue had been so much cleaner than the doctor’s office in which she currently sat.

“Hello?” she called, trying to prop herself up on her elbows, but falling back to the table as her head spun.

A door at the far side of the room creaked open, and a man who looked like he was playing dress-up in doctor’s clothing walked in with a clipboard. Before the door swung shut, Demi caught a glimpse of a terrified-looking Bastian, and a confused-looking Xander. But at least they weren’t attempting to kill each other.

“Miss Harper, I’m Dr. Mason,” he said, taking a seat in a squeaky chair next to the table and using a tiny mirror to reflect light into her eyes. “Were you sexually active before you arrived in Yesterwary?”

“What?” she asked, pawing at her aching head as she made a second attempt to sit up. This time she succeeded, but just barely. “Why would you need to know that?”

“It’s relevant.”

“Fine, whatever. Yes, I was.”

“And when was your last sexual encounter before your arrival?”

Demi sighed, squinting her eyes as she looked up to the ceiling in calculation of her sexual history, which was as dull as the lamp above. “About… two years before, I think.”

Dr. Mason nodded with a somber look. “I was afraid of that. You’re slightly anemic, which is why you passed out,” he said, in a tone that suggested anemia was the least of her concerns.

Demi’s eyes narrowed in on him. She had watched enough terrible medical shows in the old world to draw the conclusion that the doctor was about to speak. “You’re not going to tell me I’m pregnant,” she said. It wasn’t a question, but a hopeful order.

“About eight weeks, it seems.”

“Bastian!” Demi shouted, knowing he would hear her through the door.

Bastian bolted in, a nervous look on his face. He sat at Demi’s side, opposite from the doctor, and took her hand.

“Did he tell you?” she asked. Bastian nodded. “Is this even possible?”

The doctor said, “Afraid so. It’s happened many times, but it isn’t excessively common. Most people, here, aren’t in the mood for… well. The point is, yes, it is possible.”

Demi glared over at Bastian, as if he had planned the entire thing without clueing her in. His eyes widened, and he shook his head defensively.

“I had no idea,” he said. “I swear. I didn’t think—”

“Well, that does tend to be the main reason people get into this surprising situation, isn’t it?” Dr. Mason mumbled, even though Bastian hadn’t been talking to him. “Not thinking.”

Bastian scowled at the doctor for a moment, before returning his gaze to Demi. “I’m sorry.”

Demi sighed and shook her head. “It’s as much my fault as it is yours.”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry for overreacting about Xander,” he said, surprised that she thought he had meant anything else. “This is…” he said, awkwardly waving his hand over her abdomen, “shocking. But… I think we can handle it. Right? We can do this.”

Demi’s eyes widened as she gazed up at him. She’d had no interest in being a mother in the old world, at least not so early in life, and the thought certainly wouldn’t have ever crossed her mind in Yesterwary.

“Actually,” the doctor butted in, voice heavy, as if he didn’t want to deliver the news, “we’ve never had a successful pregnancy.”

“What do you mean?” Bastian asked, voice uncertain.

“The theory is that ‘souls’ have to go through the old world before they come to Yesterwary. Unless you were pregnant there, the child won’t actually exist. Most who choose to carry end in miscarriage. The few who went full-term were stillborn,” he explained.

“Choose to carry?” Demi questioned.

“Knowing that these are the only two possible outcomes, most who find themselves in this situation, and who find out early enough, decide to terminate the pregnancy. With the obvious limitations of our healthcare facility, after twelve weeks, complications are less likely if it’s carried to term.”

Demi thought for a bit, then looked up to Bastian. Even though the thing inside her would never be a child, the idea of getting rid of it made her squirm.

“Twelve weeks. So, I still have a little while to think about it, then?”

“Yes, but if you do decide to terminate, earlier is best.”

Demi rolled her eyes at how ridiculous the word “terminate” sounded, considering the circumstances, but nodded and swung her legs off the table. Bastian helped her to stand.

“Can I go?”

“Of course,” Dr. Mason said, retrieving a bottle of pills from his coat-pocket. “These are the closest thing we have to prenatal vitamins. They’ll at least help with the anemia.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, and leaned against Bastian until she regained her balance.

“Are we okay?” Xander asked, walking awkwardly beside Bastian.

“Yeah,” Bastian sighed, having already forgotten about their altercation. He had more important things on his mind. “Thanks for, you know… controlling me.”

Xander nodded. “So,” he said, motioning his hand toward Demi’s belly, “there’s a baby in there.”

Bastian stared ahead rigidly, distracted. Demi nodded, and tried to force a grin, but couldn’t. Finally, she explained everything the doctor had told them.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” Xander said, looking down to his feet.

They carried on in silence, until they passed the tenements, where Xander wished them goodnight, once again assured Bastian he wasn’t upset that he’d tried to kill him earlier, and veered off toward his apartment.

Bastian kept a firm grip on Demi’s hand, as if she might tumble down the stairs to her doom. She couldn’t be mad at him, he was only trying to help, to protect her.

They curled up into bed, on top of the covers, without changing into pajamas. Bastian lay behind her, arm draped over her belly, and nose nestled into her neck.

“I’ll support whatever decision you make,” he whispered.

“What do you want?” she asked, staring blankly at the wall ahead of her.

“I want you to be happy.”

Demi shifted her face into the pillow, uncertain of whether she might start sobbing.

“It could be different, though… couldn’t it?” he asked. His words sounded desperate. “I mean… You’re different. What if… You know?”

Demi held her hand above his over her abdomen, and clamped her eyes shut, a few tears leaking out through her lashes. She tried her best to sound believing of her own words. “Yeah. Maybe.”