2.49 – Let’s Talk

Chloe’s PoV

No, I won’t tell him. There was no need to destabilize his life when I was getting an abortion anyway. I made an appointment at the abortion clinic, then I retreated back to my room. Until everything was back to normal I was going to stay in my room and work.

I managed to avoid all human contact for one whole day. Then Thomas called. And kept calling. And wouldn’t stop ringing my phone until I’d answered.

“Chloe? Oh, thank god! Are you okay?! Shaye said you were pregnant?! Is it Morty’s? It’s Morty’s, isn’t it. Have you been to the doctor? You need to set up regular appointments and–?”

“I’m not keeping it.”

“What?”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not keeping the fetus, Thomas.”

“Are you sure? You should talk to the doctors, get their opinion–”

“I’m not keeping it! I’m not!”

There was silence over the phone except for vague whispers that I interpreted as Thomas talking to Darlene.

“Chloe?”

“I’m still here.” And rather annoyed, but I kept that thought to myself.

“Have you talked to Morty? You haven’t, have you.”

I huffed angrily. “Why would I talk to him about this? I’m aborting it. End of discussion. He won’t have anything to worry about.”

Thomas sighed, sending a soft crackling through the device. “Have you thought that maybe he’d want it?”

I frowned. “This is not his choice.”

“Chloe. This isn’t just a decision to keep it or toss it. It’s a baby.” His voice had taken on that tone I knew only too well. It was slow and calm, like he was speaking to a small child. It was slightly infuriating.

“It’s a fetus,” I replied dryly.

“Chloe. Please. At least talk to him. At the very least, as the father, he has a right to know. It’s called communication. No relationship can survive without it.”

“I realize this,” I ground out. Calm, be calm, this is caused by a concoction of hormones. Stay calm.

“Then practice it!”

And before I had the chance to respond, Thomas disconnected. I stared at my phone in shock.

Fine! I though irrationally, shoving the offending communication device underneath my mattress. Fine! Hang up! I didn’t want to talk anyway!

Then I used my pillow to have a nice long scream.

Damn you, Shaye!

---

I braved the kitchen for some lunch. Old granola bars from my desk only provided a finite amount of nourishment.

I jumped and nearly screamed when the doorbell rang.

I could see him through the window. Mortimer. He looked harried. Upon seeing me, he began knocking frantically.

“Chloe! Can we talk?! Please!” His voice was slightly muted by the glass. But not muted enough. “Tommy called, he says your pregnant and you’re gonna abort it and can please we talk about this!”

Damn windowed doors! I growled to myself, trying to ignore him.

“Please! I know you’ve gotta have your reasons, you always do, and you’ve probably thought this through completely, every possible scenario, but I just really, really want us to talk about this!”

Against my better judgement, I sat down and listened. Why is he getting so worked up?

“I know! It’s your body! You have full rights to do whatever you want!. And…and I won’t stop you if you’re set on it! I just want to talk.” He had stopped pounding on the door and just leaned against it.

“It’s just…it’s my kid too! Don’t I get some kind of say on whether it lives or dies?!”

I found myself stepping closer to the door. Is he…crying?

“I like kids. Always wanted some of my own someday. Just wanted to get a stable thing going first.”

I frowned. “So do I! I don’t want children that I don’t have time for! I want to continue my own pursuits!”

At the sound of my voice, Mortimer raised his head. He is crying.

“Can we talk about this? Please?”

I sighed, but opened the door.

We ended up talking for hours.

We discussed the reasons for my hesitancy. As well as my fears. I didn’t want yet another item to keep me from my work. But also…the sheer amount of pain and discomfort Darlene had gone through during and after the quadruplets’ birth, that should be enough to scare any woman away from childbirth. It certainly does me!

We also discussed Mortimer’s wants. He had listened to my every concern and argument, so I listened to his. He wanted to keep the baby. The very thought of aborting it seemed painful to him. He realized it was a selfish want of his. But, I’ll admit it, he had been able to counter most of my concerns.

Money. Together, we had plenty of it. House. I already owned my own house that was already furnished with a nursery. Time. Between the two of us, there should be plenty. Pain. That’s why morphine and other anesthetics existed. Personal enjoyment. Of course, any spare time would have to be chipped away. A child required large amounts of time in care and social stimuli. But Mortimer considered it to be worth the investment.

By evening we had come to a decision.

We’d keep the baby. But it would be a we. Mortimer was insistent. He wanted to be a large part of the child’s life. And, so he said, he also wanted to be a larger part of mine.

We’ll see.

---

I shit you not, as I was debating upon whether or not to keep Chloe’s baby, Mortimer runs up to the house.  They chat, then I decide, fuck it, we’ll tell him about the baby.  He had the most enthusiastic response I’ve ever seen on a sim, and we, of course, discover that he is Family-Oriented, which is probably the reason behind his really excited response.  Immediately after that popup, Chloe rolled this wish:

So, yeah!  We’re keeping the baby!  And Mortimer too!

Thanks for reading!  ^_^