This can’t be happening. I won’t let it. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen.

She set her purse down on the front seat and stuck her key in the ignition, but she didn’t start the car. She couldn’t face the office quite yet. Instead, she hid her purse beneath her seat, locked the car doors again, and walked across the street to a little park.

I have to do something. But what can I do? This is too big to fix alone.

She wanted to just forget that the last hour had ever happened. Forget everything that had taken place since the doctor had grinned maliciously at her and said, “Congratulations, Ms. Martin. You’re pregnant.”

I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant

The words kept echoing in her mind. But instead of getting used to them, every fresh repetition was one more jab into an already gushing wound.

She sat down on a little bench in the park, facing the street, her back to the horde of squealing toddlers who were playing together under the watchful eye of their parents.

Just get rid of It. Don’t think of it as a baby, think of it as an It.  Just make It go away.

It was so tempting. No one else would need to know. She hadn’t told Dwight about her appointment, and no one at church even knew she was seeing anyone.

Pam knew. Not about this, of course, but Pam knew about her relations with Dwight. But Pam was caught up in Jim right now. She wouldn’t be paying enough attention to notice this. Not if Angela could take care of it fast enough.

Everything can go back to normal. And then I can just forget all about It.

But as she sat on the bench in the middle of the park, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go through with an abortion. Her eyes filled with tears. But she wouldn’t let them fall here. It wasn’t quite so bad yet that she could justify crying alone in a public park in broad daylight. And there was no point in crying, after all. Crying wouldn’t make it go away. Nothing would.

I have to go back to work. Someone will notice.

How would she face the cameras? She always felt like they knew more than she realized. That lens was piercing. It seemed to bore into her soul, dredging up things she hadn’t thought about in years. She could just see herself coming in late and being immediately pulled into the conference room. They would ask her where she had been all morning. And when she wouldn’t be able to respond they’d press harder until suddenly she would burst into tears and admit everything.

What about my family? What will I tell them? When will I tell them? How will I tell them? What will they think of me?

Maybe she should just take the whole day off. It would look strange, she knew, because she never called in sick. But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t comprehend the idea of going in and trying to pretend that everything was normal, when her entire life had just been turned on end.

Can I keep It? Will I want to? What if It hates me?

She’d been around pregnancy before, but mostly just with her cats. She knew how the process worked, and she was confident that she’d be able to learn everything she needed to know, and probably a lot more than she needed to know, by the time she was ready to give birth, but then what? There was no place in her life for an infant.

What am I doing here? I have to leave; I have to go to work.

She made it back to her car and half way to work by numbing herself to the reality of the situation. She kept forcing her mind to reject every thought that had to do with family, doctors, Dwight and the future.

But there was one red light that lasted a little too long, and before she knew it her face was covered with tears and she was sobbing over the sound of the Debussy that was playing on the classical station.

Unable to control herself, she turned in the direction of her house. By the time she got there, her tears were mostly spent. She walked inside, slammed the door behind her, and headed straight for bed.

I hate my life. This is all Dwight’s fault.

She buried her head beneath the pillows and pushed away a meowing body that jumped up on the bed to try to comfort her. Her entire life had always been governed by numbers. She knew exactly how long it would take to pay off her mortgage, she’d even adjusted for inflation, pay raises and bonuses. Just a couple of years ago, everything had been proceeding exactly as planned.

And then Dwight had happened. She hadn’t expected to want him, but up until now, he’d just been a momentary glitch. Something she knew wasn’t a part of the plan, but not something that she couldn’t eventually recover from. God was gracious and merciful, after all. Surely, he’d forgive her for giving in to this temptation.

I’m being punished. That’s what this is. I deserve to be miserable. This is all my fault.

If only she had stuck to her plan. She’d figured it all out. She’d known what she wanted, and she had known exactly how to get to it. Her life had been balanced. All the numbers had added up.

But lying in bed, she had to acknowledge that life isn’t always made up of numbers. Sometimes there’s another factor that comes out of nowhere to mess with the entire equation. Sometimes you can’t predict exactly what will happen. And sometimes one plus one equals three instead of two.