“What do you think about Lamaze?” I asked Miguel as we made our six-hour drive to Baguio. His face was contorted in a frown, so I know he’s still probably thinking about what happened in the office earlier.
“Miguel,” I whispered, touching his face. “Look—”
“What if your parents asked me if I knew what meds you’re taking for your pregnancy? What if they ask me where we plan to have you give birth to our babies? What if they ask me how good or bad the babies are growing in your tummy?” he snapped, and I stayed silent. “I don’t know any of those, JJ,” he added in a hoarse whisper.
“Miguel—” I stopped, not knowing really what to say. He shook his head, and it was quite obvious to me that he is devastated. “You sure you still want to head up to Baguio?” I asked after a long while. He turned to me, glared, and said, “Of course.”
“Miguel, we’re taking it a day at a time, and we’ve just been together for three weeks tops. You don’t have to know everything about me or the babies all at once,” I said calmly, and he was still brewing in his anger at himself. I groaned.
“Come on. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive when you’re this angry,” I told him quietly. “If you still want to go, let me drive. I won’t let you drive when you’re fuming,” I added when it was apparent that he wouldn’t budge. He sighed and parked by the curb, and placed his head on the steering wheel, gathering himself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For putting you in danger just now. Driving when I’m not sane enough to.”
I reached out and gave his bicep a squeeze. “Miguel, one day at a time, okay? I won’t go away. Come on. I still don’t know when you lost your virginity, or what high school you’ve been to,” I said, and he sat up when he heard the first part of my statement.
“Why do you think I’ve lost my virginity before what happened to us?” Miguel asked, and I shrugged.
“You sound so guilty now, so you probably weren’t a virgin when it happened between us,” I countered, and he didn’t say anything. I got the weirdest of all feelings that he did the deed with Carole, and she was his first in many ways—first girlfriend, first ‘time,’ first heartbreak.
“We’re still going, okay?” Miguel said after a long while. I nodded quietly, my thoughts swimming in the pool called Carole. I still can’t get over that hump even though she assured me they’re as good as over.
Miguel started the car and we continued our own way again to Baguio. He searched for my hand a few minutes into the ride, found it on my lap, and gave it a slight squeeze.
“I think Lamaze would be a good idea,” Miguel said, and I turned to him and smiled.
Your Door Marked Exit 