by Hazel Kelly
"I don’t know yet. I've thought a lot about what I want in a donor, but I'm still trying to figure out which donor would best balance my personality, if that makes sense."
"Is balance what you want?” I asked. “Shouldn't you try to find someone exactly like you so you can raise the first sperm donor president?"
"I regret telling you. Maddy was right."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"She said you'd cope better if it was a one-night stand. She said you'd be full of attagirls and you got this and who needs men anyway?"
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Is the idea of me parenting alone the part that disturbs you?"
"Of course not."
Her right brow lifted.
"You're the most capable person I know," I said. "If anyone can raise a well-adjusted future president, it's you."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile my vote of confidence elicited.
"And I think you'll be a really relaxed, happy pregnant lady."
Her eyes sharpened on me. "You just had to take it too far, didn’t you?"
"What if you meet someone?"
"What if I don't?" she countered.
"Seriously, Maeve. What if the love of your life walks through that door moments after you've injected yourself with some other guy's swimmers?"
"The love of my life?"
"Yeah."
She lifted her chin as she considered the possibility. "I imagine he'll love me anyway," she said finally, leveling her gaze.
I ripped a chunk off my cinnamon roll and stuffed it in my mouth, partly because we were short on time and partly because I needed a second to think.
"Anyway, I’m not telling you because I need your approval."
I studied her as I chewed. The closest Maeve ever came to asking my approval was in junior high when she questioned whether I thought her mermaid costume was obvious enough without the itchy red wig.
"I just wanted to keep you in the loop," she said. "In case I make you an uncle before Maddy and Quinn do."
"I'm glad you're amused by that whole thing."
"Oh, I am," she said, her brown eyes sparkling. "And if the pep in Maddy's step these days is anything to go by, my amusement will last for a long time to come."
It was bad enough when Quinn gave me shit, but I really expected more from Maeve. Then again, it was nice to see her smile, even if it was at my expense.
"Speaking of amusing situations," she said, lifting her brows. "I heard you're playing house with Brie."
"I suppose you could say that."
"How's she doing?" she asked.
"Seems to be doing alright."
"Still a total bookworm?"
I nodded. "She's writing books now, too. Or a book, rather."
"Does she still have a crush on you?"
I froze. "Excuse me?"
"Don't tell me you didn't know?"
Was she for real? Even Quinn thought Maddy had only said that to mess with my head.
She scoffed. "Oh, come on. Surely you remember how she used to get all tongue tied around you?"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I said, deciding even a moment’s curiosity would be damning.
"Maybe I imagined the whole thing," she said, waving a hand to dismiss the thought. "And even if I didn't, I'm sure her tastes have matured."
"I wouldn't know," I said, fighting the urge to clench my jaw.
"It would be nice to see her sometime."
"Do you mean that?" I asked.
"Sure. Takes a village, right? Could be cool to reconnect. What kid doesn't wish they had more aunts?"
My neck grew hot under the collar of my button-down shirt.
"Besides, I always liked her. And it wasn't her fault what happened. Maddy should never have cut her out like that."
My chest relaxed with my relief. For a second there, I feared she was completely heartless.
"Has she forgiven Maddy?" Maeve asked. "For dropping her like a bad habit?"
"I don't think Maddy's forgiven Maddy," I said. "For how defensive she gets if Brie comes up in conversation, it seems like she's the one with unresolved issues."
"She's probably just embarrassed. As she should be."
I grunted my agreement.
"What about Brie, though?" Maeve pulled her phone from her purse to check the time. "Is she okay?"
I reached for my coffee. "Is anyone?"
"You know what I mean."
"She's better than okay," I insisted, startled by how much I meant it.
And in that moment, I knew I would stop at nothing to make it true.
S I X T E E N
- Brie -
There was a white bag on the granite countertop when I got home Thursday afternoon. It was plain apart from a small grey Apple logo. I probably wouldn't have noticed it if my name hadn’t been on the envelope beside it, written in handwriting that could only belong to a man.
Not that women couldn't have poor handwriting. Lord knows I couldn't read half the crap I scribbled on napkins. It's just that my name was clearly written in a hurry, and I couldn't imagine a human with a vagina not taking the extra few seconds to write neatly on an envelope. Especially when it was only a person's name. Brie wasn’t even centered.
I smiled at it like an idiot nonetheless, turning it over in my hands while goosebumps covered my arms as if the little girl inside me was hoping for a Valentine. Instead, I found a birthday card.
Happy Birthday, Brie. xx James
I stared at the two little x's. Was that a kiss kiss because he fancied himself European now? Or did he always sign cards that way? Or had he spent as long thinking about the inappropriateness of sincerely, kind regards, yours truly, and love for as long as I'd analyzed those little kisses?
Furthermore, it wasn't my birthday. My birthday was months ago. The big two-five. I didn't do much for it. My mom got me a pretty necklace, though. It was gold, which I don't wear much, but it was for my golden birthday, so she figured I'd enjoy it someday. “Grow into it,” were her exact words. She asked to borrow it a few days later. Hadn't taken it off since to my knowledge.
I didn't mind, though. If anything, it was a wonderful improvement on the birthdays I had growing up, which always went one of two ways. Either she'd forget entirely, or she'd plan a big party and embarrass me by drinking enough white wine to sedate an elephant. One year she even spilled her wine over my cake, putting out all the candles in one fell swoop. Looking back, it was kind of poetic. Still, I couldn't help but feel I would've appreciated the fucked-up metaphor just as much if it happened to some other kid.
I snapped out of the memory when I noticed the PS scrawled at the bottom of the card. If you want a different one, there's a gift receipt at the bottom of the bag. I blinked at the sentence again, my stomach knotting.
It was a brand new iPhone, the latest model. I only knew that because I'd seen the lines around the block when it came out a few months ago.
Nine shifts. That's how far away I was from buying a new smartphone. But a phone line this? I'd half to times that by ten. I set it down on the counter, careful not to snag the plastic wrap with my finger, pulled out my temporary Nokia, and called James.
"James Mason."
"It's Brie."
"Oh, hey," he said, his tone relaxing. "Can you hold on a second?"
"Sure." I heard him ask someone named Karen to stall his next appointment for a few minutes by offering them something to drink. "Is this a bad time?"
"No," he said. "I'm just a very important person."
I rolled my eyes.
"That was a joke. What's up?"
"I can't accept this phone, James."
"Why not?" he asked. "Do you not like the rose gold? I knew it was a gamble, but the guy said they'll exchange it for any one you want."
"It's not that," I said. "It's just too much."
"For your birthday?"
"Way too much for my birthday," I insisted
.
"When you think about it, it's actually quite a small gift considering how many years I’ve gotten away with not giving you a birthday present."
I opened my mouth to object, but he kept talking.
"Plus, that one you've been using must have a subpar notepad app," he said. "Or do you still prefer napkins?"
"I don't need your charity, James."
"It's not charity," he said. "If anything, I got it for you out of pure selfishness."
"I find that hard to believe."
"It’s true. That junk you're using now is useless for calling an Uber," he said. "And I'm losing sleep over the fact that you might wake me in the night because you can't get home safely. Plus, I might want to call in a favor someday when you're a bestselling author."
I sighed. "Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this."
"Or you could just say thanks and not make a big deal about it."
"Thanks," I said, feeling flattered and undeserving and a bit taken aback by his generosity.
"Or you could make a huge deal about it and dedicate a book to me someday. Your call."
"Really?"
"No, not really,” he said. “Unless you write a book about a devilishly handsome hedge fund manager with great taste in cheese, in which case I can't think why you wouldn’t?"
"Is that how you see yourself?"
"Only when I look in the mirror."
"Jesus," I groaned.
"Before I let you go, I was going to get a calzone for dinner from a place that just opened near my office. If you don't have plans, I'm happy to bring you one as well."
"Actually, I do have plans," I said, suddenly wishing I didn’t. "There's a campus band I like playing at Cassidy's, so I was just going to grab something there."
"Cool. No worries."
"Do you want to come?" I asked.
"To Cassidy's?"
"I know it's not your scene."
He laughed. "I do tend to prefer drinking establishments that actually have a top shelf."
"Does that mean dollar bottles and slices isn't enough to entice you?"
"Pizza slices?"
"Yeah,” I said, slightly ashamed of the pathetic invitation.
"Are you sure that place hasn't been condemned?"
"Oh, it has been," I said. "Twice in the last five years."
"Charming."
"You'll probably hate the band, too."
"I might not. My musical tastes are pretty eclectic. As long as it's not one of those screamy lesbian bands."
I swallowed.
"Spoke too soon, didn't I?"
"You don't have to come," I said, realizing I’d probably be desperately embarrassed if he did.
"I want to."
"You want to?" I pressed my ear to the phone.
"Did I say want to? What I meant was, why the hell not? It's not like I'll see anyone I know."
"You'll see me."
Silence.
"And a few of my friends."
"Cool," he said, like he didn't really mean it. "Do they know I exist, or can I put on a fake British accent all night?"
"You're not invited if you're going to do that."
"Probably for the best. No one would be able to appreciate it over the music."
"You might like it."
"If I don't, I'm going to buy extra pizza slices and use them as earplugs."
"Maybe I won't introduce you as family then."
"Really?"
"No, not really. Especially if you have pizza in your ears. How else do you explain bringing someone like that around?"
"An explanation isn't really necessary if you want me there."
I bit the inside of my lip.
"Do you really want me to come, or were you just being polite?"
"Both?"
"Then I'll think about it," he said. "What time?"
"The warm-up act starts at seven."
"There's a warm-up act?"
I shrugged. "Whatever sells pizza."
"If I come, I'm going to eat my weight in free pizza."
"It's not free," I reminded him. "But that will be much more entertaining than your fake British accent, I'm sure."
"Thanks," he said finally. "For the invite. Not for ripping on my accent."
"You're welcome," I said. "Thanks for all the birthday presents."
"My pleasure. I have it on good authority that the notepad app is very dynamic."
I laughed. "I'm sure."
"And I can teach you all about Uber and the other apps later."
"I'm not that out of touch."
"You were using a quill pen the other day to write a grocery list."
"Goodbye, James."
"Cheerio," he said. And then he left me hanging, leaving me to wonder all afternoon if he’d show up and embarrass me by sticking pizza in his ears and talking in a fake accent. Or worse, if he'd show and make me blush.
S E V E N T E E N
- James -
I knew I'd be late if I went home to change, but there was no way I was rocking up to Cassidy's in my suit. It was bad enough that I was bound to be the oldest guy in the joint. I didn't need to advertise that fact by being the weirdo in the dry-clean only clothes.
Then again, at least it didn't smell like black mold and dry wall, which was more than I could say for the gem I'd bought in Boystown. There were other smells, of course. Smells that transported me to my own college days, back when my thirst for sex and alcohol was greater than my need to not be in a place where the scent of urine occasionally wafted through from god knows where. Far as I was concerned, there wasn't a dark corner in the place that wasn't suspect.
On the plus side, the "headline act" was already playing when I arrived, which meant most of the crowd was facing the same direction. This made it easy to spot Brie after only a few seconds of searching. Like the rest of the students, she was completely fixated on the girls in black with pink and purple streaks in their hair, moaning melodically at the front of the room. Probably about some injustice they'd suffered at the hands of a deplorable member of my own gender. It was hard to tell, especially since all I could hear from the moment I spotted Brie was the blood pounding in my ears.
Did she know that guy's arm was around her like that? She wasn't leaning into him or anything and— Fuck. I was in trouble. I told myself when I bought that phone that I was just being a nice guy. But I didn't feel like a nice guy right now. I felt like a jealous guy, and I had no right to that emotion.
It didn't matter if she used to like me or if I used to like her back. It didn't matter how bad I wanted to ask her to homecoming junior year. Though if I hadn't stalled because no one had asked Maddy yet, I would've done it the day before my dad broke the news that he was leaving my mom for hers. Fucking timing. I don't know whose was worse: mine or my dad's.
She must’ve felt me watching her because she looked my way. And while I expected to see a fleeting expression of panic that I'd actually shown up, that wasn't what happened at all. Instead, she smiled so hard her eyes became crescents, and I swear something inside me cracked. The same way a dam cracks. Just a hairline fracture at first, but you know it'll never hold because there's too much pressure behind it.
She was happy to see me, and her smile warmed me so thoroughly it was like I'd swallowed a bucket of hot coals. Even before she waved me over.
I nodded towards the bar and gestured to ask if she needed a drink. She glanced at the bottle in front of her before giving me a thumbs up. I wasn't sure what that meant, so I weaved my way to the bar, deciding I'd spring for a bucket and a pizza in case anyone else was hungry or needed earplugs. Except the music wasn't actually that terrible, and the chick with the pink hair was holding a bass line that was nothing to sneeze at.
"Hey!" Brie said, making her way through the crowd. She gave me a hug as soon as I turned towards her, and the weight of her chest against mine woke parts of me it shouldn't have. Parts of me I would've left at home if it were an option.
&nb
sp; "Hey," I said, putting distance between us.
"My friend needs a drink, too, so I figured I'd just come over."
"I got a bucket," I said, trying to be heard over the music without shouting in her face.
"Nice!" She was wearing little hoop earrings and a silk shirt that hung off her smooth shoulders.
"And a pizza."
Her face scrunched. "Like a whole one?"
I nodded.
"I didn't know you could get a whole one."
A sly smile escaped one side of my mouth. "Stick with me, kid."
She made a face like she was groaning, but I couldn't hear the sound over the music. "So what do you think?" she asked, cocking her head towards the stage, which was essentially a raised platform at the far side of the room no bigger than a parking spot.
"You didn't tell me this was the band," I said, holding my place at the bar as I looked over my shoulder. "I love these guys."
She scowled like she knew I was bluffing.
"It's too soon to tell," I admitted with a shrug. "But you can't fault their musicianship."
"I'll take it!" she said, grabbing the bucket by the handle when the bartender set it in front of us.
"Go ahead," I said, lifting my chin towards her friends. "I'll follow with the pizza if you can make some room on the table."
“I’m on it,” she said, disappearing into the crowd, the golden crown of her head shining as it floated through the sea of bodies.
I told the exhausted-looking mature student behind the bar to keep the change from my twenty, and he raised his face, looked me in the eye, and said, "thanks, man," like I was the only person he'd spoken to all night. Made me feel bad I hadn't given him more. Granted, it wasn't my fault he worked there, but I knew what thankless, cheap assholes most college students were, and as the only other person in the place over twenty-five, my heart went out to him a little.
I walked through the crowd towards the table with less trouble than I thought. Then again, I was holding a full pizza over my head, so the sea of students probably parted more out of respect for the sacred, cheese-covered dough than anything else.
Brie told everyone to scoot towards the center of the round booth, and I was disappointed when room was created across from her instead of next to her. I would've berated myself for the inappropriate thought, but I didn't have time. She went straight into introducing her friends, who took turns raising their hands when she called their names. And then she introduced me as James. Not James, her stepbrother. Not James, her friend. Just James, and I felt my chest loosen ever so slightly.
