The doctor was a very nice, gentle man, which I was thankful for. He examined me a little, took my blood pressure, heartbeat - all the normal stuff.
Finally, I asked, "Am I pregnant?"
He paused for a minute, looked at the charts, and told me, "Nope - you are under stress. The stress is aggravating your stomach and heart; over-exciting them. I can give you some pills, and if you think you might become pregnant, I can recommend you to a doctor who would know more: Dr. Fokin. He's specialized in that."
I thanked the doctor, paid the bill, and left. I went to the local pharmacy to see if they had what I needed, and sure enough, they did. I walked back to the hotel, and waited for The Who to return.
As soon as they got back to the hotel, all four flew into my room. I didn't know that they cared so much! Keith ran the fastest, threw the door open, and kissed me. Even John looked worried! "So wot's wrong, 'un?" Keith asked me.
I told them all about how the doctor said I was under too much stress, and Rog wasn't very good at hiding the look of guilt on his face. Luckily, I was the only one that noticed.
Finally, the excitement died down, and the others left. It was just me and Keith alone. He hugged me and said, "You know, that was prob'ly the worst we've ever sounded! We were all so worried about you... at least, I was."
He was so sweet! I kissed him, and we made love again.
The next morning, I felt sick again. Even after I took a pill, I didn't feel better. What now, I thought. Instead of going to the gig today, I went to go see Dr. Fokin.
The waiting room was empty. It made me nervous. Even the tropical fish they kept were white, like the rest of the room. The brightness was almost hurting my eyes.
Finally, a nasally receptionist called out, "Miss Nesmith?"
I shuddered as a flashback to my fourth grade school play occured. I had to play the teacher, and was called "Miss Nesmith" for the rest of the year.
"Yes?" I asked, coming back to reality.
"Dr. Fokin will see you now. Room 8, on the left."
I walked down the hallway, and into Room 8. Finally, some colour! A dark blue rug, grey furniture; well, it was better than white.
Dr. Fokin came in. He was probably in his late-thirties to early-forties, and seemed very nice. He asked me some questions, did a check-up, and then was finished. Again, the time came for me to ask the inevitable question, "Am I pregnant?"
"Even if you are, it is still too early to tell. But the vomiting that you are experiencing is from the stress you might be feeling. I want you to check back with me, or another OB/GYN in a month, okay? Then is when we'll be able to tell."
I sighed, and felt relieved. I thanked Dr. Fokin, went out, and paid my bill.
An hour or so after I got home, the guys returned, and I told them that I might be pregnant, but it was too early to tell. Roger was trying to hide the fact that he was worried, but Moonie was open about it.
Everyone else but Keith left, and we talked. He started the conversation. "Would you mind 'aving a baby?"
"Not if it's yours."
"I wouldn't either, if it was yours."
"Do you mean it?"
"Of course! I love you!"
"Maybe one day we will. Maybe we will."
" 'S a possibility..."
Conversation ended.
Another day passed. It turned into weeks, just constant touring, and a month soon came. Of course, we were far away from Dr. Fokin at that time, so I went to see another OB/GYN, as he had recommended. I was so nervous.
The exam was basically the same as the two before. I didn't even have to ask the question this time; the doctor came out and told me right away.
"Miss Nesmith, you..."
I felt dizzy. My head seemed to swirl around on my shoulders. Oh my God! Was this good or bad? How could I tell Roger, Keith, John, and Pete?
I was barely able to walk home. When I got to the hotel, I just laid down in my bed, shaking my head in disbelief. That's where the guys found me when they burst in, again.
"So?!" cried Pete.
"What is it?" added John.
"Are ya or aren't ya?" asked Rog.
"Please, we wanna know!" pleaded Keith.
"Alright guys, calm down! I'm... I'm... I am. I am pregnant."
First there was a moment of silence. Then the wild shouts and hollers happened. They totally trashed my hotel room, just like they were so famously supposed to.
I didn't believe it: Keith was hanging down from the ceiling fan, and he hadn't even had anything to drink!
But Rog did look a little worried, though it was very hard to tell that he was. He still had on this huge grin, and that could melt away any dynamic tension.
Well, that night, Moonie and I were talking in our newly-put-back-together room, which I had mostly cleaned.
"Hun, I'm so 'appy you're pregnant!"
"Yes, love, me too..."
"To think! I'm gonna be a father! That's my little baby! Wow..."
"Yes, love, I know. Our baby..."
He just smiled this humongous grin, and I felt guilty as I thought of what I'd done to him by sleeping with Roger. Keith was so sure it was his baby, and I should've been. I would've if I had just been faithful to him! Though the odds were in Keith's favor - odds never worked, sod it all!
I slept, though not peacefully, throughout the night. Another day in the tourbus, was the first thought that crossed my mind as I woke up.
That day, when I got on the bus, I was congratulated by Ivor. Jeez, I'll never escape this!
Moonie was talking to John and Pete in one part of the bus, lwaving me and Roger alone in another.
He said, "Wh-what if the baby's mine?"
I said, "We should've thought of that before, shouldn't have we? Before we slept together? Well, the odds are that it isn't yours, so there's no need to even tell anybody. And no more of us, ever. I love Keith, and you know that. I love you as one of my best friends, Roger, but I have to be with Keith."
He looked hurt and a little embarassed after my speech, but I couldn't back down now. "Alright, M," he said, and quietly walked away, but not before giving me one long goodbye-kiss.
Keith came back tot alk to me just as Roger left. "Wot's 'is problem?"
"Aw, he's just uptight," I answered.
"Why should 'e be? Ah, well. I just don't see 'ow anybody could be UN'APPY when I feel so 'appy!"
"Yeah, me too..."
No one disturbed us in the back of the bus. They were too afraid of the serious lip action that they would see!
You wouldn't believe how quickly four or five months can pass. My tummy had just started to get big enough to see, and Keith just wouldn't stop putting his hand on my tummy. He loved it so much when the baby kicked! Even John was happy when the baby kicked him! I wondered how a little unborn thing could bring so much joy to this band.
From then, for a few months, time seemed to slow down. The days didn't run together as much, and I knew every nook and cranny of The Who. We were about to celebrate Thanksgiving, upon my insistence (they're all British and don't really care about the Pilgrims). It would be my first real holiday with them, besides Pete's, Keith's, and John's birthdays.
I was thankful for many things, but I also couldn't get one lacking feeling out of my mind: Was my baby Roger's? It would disgrace me forever if it was, but that wouldn't be the worst of it. What if Moonie found out? I knew that today would be the day that I would have to really talk to Rog.
When Rog saw me, he perked up a little. " 'Ey, M! Anythin' new?"
I sighed. "Roger - - about the baby. If it does turn out to be yours, will you be prepared to support me and it? I know that Keith is, but..."
"Oh, sure, you know I will!" he said, almost too quickly.
"Alright, but how can we tell Moonie?"
"Tell Moonie what?" asked Keith as he walked in on our conversation.
"Keith, I think you should sit down," started Roger, trying to smooth things over.
"It's about me and Roger -" I began, trying to be gentle.
"The baby might be mine." Not very gentle, Roger.
Keith looked like he'd just been smacked in the face, but Rog's statement must've been much more hurtful than that.
I hung my head in shame. That led him on, so now he finally knew the truth. That I'd been unfaithful. That I'd been extremely stupid. The tears filled my eyes, but I wouldn't let them loose.
When I looked up, Keith had an expression of half-shock and half-incredulousness on his face. I thought he was about to cry, too. His words had an angry edge to them. I know he had every right to be angry. If he'd been sleeping with someone else, I'd be upset too! "So what if the baby isn't mine? Then what? M, I thought we loved each other. This 'ere, this isn't love."
The tears streamed down my face. I cursed at myself for being so emotional all the time. I tried to explain, but mostly ended up blubbering. I felt so alone, because it was Keith who comforted me at times like this, and now he was to angry at me.
"Let me guess. Those two nights when Jun, Pait, and I were at the studio."
I nodded and carried on again.
Roger tried to explain. "Don't get all on about 'er, Keef. I was the one 'oo liked 'er, and if it weren't for me comin' on to 'er, she never woulda done it."
A new expression crossed Keith's face. I could tell that it was intense rage. He lashed out at Rog, "So it was you! You, the man who could get any girl 'e wanted! But no, you 'ave to sleep wif my girl, 'oo loves me, and I love 'er! Now look at 'er! Do you love 'er when she's upset? When she wakes up in the morning after a regular night? Do you?!"
This display upset me, because though I knew Keith loved me, I never knew how much. Until now. And I knew that if Keith wasn't even the father of my baby, he would be the Daddy. That's all that mattered. I fainted.
I awoke a few minutes later, to Keith looking into my eyes, truly concerned. "M? Are you alright? I forgive you!"
I reached up and touched his cheek, which had a bruise and a cut. "What happened? You and Rog didn't - fight, did you?"
I looked over and sitting in a bus seat, ice up to his eye.
"And this is Thanksgiving? Well, I don't wanna see Christmas!" I said, trying to make a joke out of it.
Keith grinned a little, and I knew that he did forgive me. But I don't think he could ever forgive Roger.
Pete and John walked in at the same time, wondering what all the commotion was about. Pete was the first to speak up. " 'Ey, wot 'appened 'ere?"
I shook my head, and meekly replied, "Long story," before I explained to them both what had happened.
When Keith, Rog, and I were finished, John couldn't look me in the eye. Had he had some unknown trust in me? I never did find out.
All was about fine (save some tension between Rog and Keith) up until the eigth month of my pregnancy. (The guys had stopped touring just before Christmas, so now Keith and I were at his house in London.)
I wasn't doing too well, considering the size of my stomach and the length of my newly-shortened temper. At least Keith was coping with it: Trying to be gentle, nice to me, what a sweetheart! Even got me my french fries with malt vinegar.
So I was lying in my bed, resting a little bit, when I knew my water had broke. I screamed, "Keith! The baby!"
He ran in and got me packed up hastily, and drove somewhat recklessly (to put it LIGHTLY) to the hospital. I hoped we would get there in time!