Pregnant by the Playboy

by Jackie Lau

  I experience a slight twinge, but I try not to show it. “Yeah.”

  “Vince, when did you lose the ability to walk and talk at the same time? We’re impeding the flow of pedestrian traffic.”

  Courtney laughs.

  “Hear that, Evie?” I lean toward my niece. “Try saying ‘pedestrian traffic.’”

  “Ba,” she says.

  “Close enough.” I pat her head. “Anyway, Julian, you should thank me for my interference, because now you have a wife and daughter. If we hadn’t forced you to take time off—and if I hadn’t tried to make you attend an orgy—you never would have met Courtney. See, I’m a genius.”

  “We’re still not walking,” Julian mutters, but he gives me a smile.

  “And now I’m copying you again. Except, rather than being a successful businessman, I’m going to have a kid and wife. But don’t worry, I very much want those things. I’m not doing it just to be like you.”

  “That’s good,” he says. “I’m glad you seem happier these days and less, uh, inclined to party until eight in the morning and throw up in my living room.”

  “I only did that once.”

  “Actually, you did it twice.” He begins walking again, and I hurry to catch up. When I reach him, he touches my shoulder again and says, “Thanks.” Then, “You’ll do great.”

  “I know,” I say, all cocky, but I really do appreciate his words.

  We continue through the park, passing more trees, more people. Courtney takes lots of pictures and tips her face toward the sun. I keep my eyes peeled for the perfect location.

  “What about here?” I say.

  Courtney gestures to a row of portable toilets nearby. “You can do better.”

  “Right. Good point.”

  We walk down the hill to Grenadier Pond and spend a few minutes looking at a swan. Evie cries when Mean Daddy Julian tells her that she cannot ride it. She is comforted when Awesome Uncle Vince flips his sunglasses up and down to make her laugh.

  We arrive at a smaller collection of cherry trees to the east, and I decide it’s the right spot to bring Marissa tomorrow morning. We’ll have to wake up early. We should probably be here by seven thirty or eight so it won’t be too busy.

  I don’t need to propose in front of a giant crowd.

  Courtney spreads out a picnic blanket and takes some pictures of Evie. After we eat gingersnaps and fruit, Julian and Courtney lie back on the blanket and look at each other like lovesick fools—not that I’m in a position to judge—while I play with Evie. I sit her down beside me, and she immediately crawls away at breathtaking speed and attempts to stuff a stick in her mouth. I pull her back and hold onto her.

  There’s a gust of wind, and petals fall from the trees like snow. Evie tries to slap them.

  Next year, I’ll be able to do this with Marissa and our own child. We don’t know if it’s a girl or boy yet, but we’ll find out at the ultrasound next week, and I’ll be happy either way.

  I glance over at Julian and wonder if we’ll have a second child. I like having siblings, but if Marissa doesn’t want to do this again, that’s okay.

  Evie continues to play with petals and sticks, and Julian falls asleep, which he never would have done before. A nap! In the middle of the afternoon! My older brother supposedly stopped napping when he was six months old.

  Courtney sits up. “This is a lovely spot, but are you sure it’s the right time to propose?”

  “Yes,” I say sharply.

  I understand why Marissa kicked me in the shin the first time I proposed to her, but now she’s much more than a two-night stand. Now, we truly know each other, and I love her.

  I think she loves me, too, even if she hasn’t said so, and perhaps it’s foolish, but Brian’s feelings for me are reassuring. I don’t want him to hurt—I hate that part—but now I know that my deep, dark fear of being unlovable is unfounded. Even when I was a bit of a mess, somebody did love me, somebody who isn’t family and wouldn’t feel obligated to do so.

  But I’m desperate for confirmation from Marissa and to have everything settled.

  “You haven’t dated for very long,” Courtney says. “You think she’s ready?”

  Marissa has to be ready, right?

  By this time tomorrow, she’ll have my ring on her finger and we can start planning our future together. It’s what I need.

  And it will be perfect.

  Chapter 26

  Marissa

  “Hey, Marissa. It’s time to get up.”

  “I’m sleeping,” I mutter.

  “I have a surprise for you,” Vince says.

  Hmm. A surprise. Could be nice.

  But you know what’s really nice? Sleep. I pull the blankets up to my chin.

  He sighs. “Humor me and get out of bed.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  When I stay motionless under the covers, he lifts me up and sets me on my feet.

  “Soon I’ll be too big for you to do that,” I say.

  “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

  I look at the clock. “It’s not even seven, and it’s Saturday.”

  “I’m aware. But what if I’m bringing you to a cheesecake buffet?”

  This is a good point. Probably not true because if so, he’s just ruined the surprise. But perhaps it’s something equally good.

  I get dressed and curse the fact that pregnancy doesn’t allow me to start my day with three cups of coffee.

  We’re out the door ten minutes later without eating breakfast, but Vince is carrying a picnic basket, so apparently food is coming with us.

  Good. I used to skip breakfast sometimes, but no longer.

  A car is waiting for us outside his building, and it takes us west, dropping us off on Parkside Drive.

  We walk into High Park. It’s a little chilly at this hour, but Vince puts his arm around me and it’s not so bad. I haven’t been here in years. We pass the adventure playground, which reminds me of a castle, and I imagine him catching our child at the bottom of the slide.

  Next, we pass cherry trees at peak bloom.

  Ah. That’s why we’re here. To see the cherry blossoms before the park gets busy. A few people are walking their dogs or jogging, but it’s not crowded.

  Yeah, okay, maybe it was worth waking up for this, even if the sky is a little gray.

  We’re approaching the pond when Vince stops walking and puts down the picnic basket.

  “I want to take a picture of you,” he says. “You’re pregnant and cute, remember.”

  I make a show of rolling my eyes, but I pose beside a cherry tree and hope I can smile properly at this time on a Saturday morning without any coffee.

  But I’m with Vince, standing under a blossoming tree, and it’s kind of magical here.

  And then he gets down on one knee, and I freeze.

  Oh, no.

  He pulls something small out of his pocket. I know exactly what it is.

  Sure enough, he opens up a velvet box, revealing a ring. It’s white gold or platinum, with a sensibly-sized diamond. It’s just the sort of engagement ring I’d want.

  And it scares the crap out of me.

  “Marissa Chan,” he says, smiling up at me, “will you marry me?”

  This time, I know he’s not joking.

  This time, I don’t kick him in the shin.

  I cover my mouth with my hand, and I shake my head.

  “Marissa?” he says.

  Perhaps he thinks I’m overcome with joy.

  I slip to the ground, and I keep shaking my head.

  He reaches out to steady me. “Marissa?”

  “No,” I whisper. “I can’t.”

  “Why not? I love you. I want to spend my life with you.” He’s all earnestness now, and I hate it.

  “We haven’t been together for long.”

  “But I know what I want. And we’re having a baby together.”

  “Yes, goddammit, I’m aware of that. Nobody is more aware of that than me.”

&nbs
p; “Do you love me?” he asks.

  “I’ve loved many men, but I didn’t marry any of them.”

  “Do you love me?”

  I shut my eyes. I can’t bear to look at him now. “No.”

  We’re quiet for one long, horrible moment.

  Then I open my eyes, and he says, “You act like you love me.”

  “I care for you. I know you’ll be a good dad. But I can’t marry a man I don’t love. Put that goddamn ring away.”

  Finally, he snaps the box shut and stows it back in his pocket.

  “I’ve never felt this way before, Marissa.”

  “I believe you love me, but I still feel like you’re desperate for me to save you. For me to give you this idyllic family life that you think will complete you. But it’s not going to be idyllic.”

  “Look, I know there will be sleepless nights and utter exhaustion and piles of poopy diapers, but it will all be wonderful because I’m doing it with you.”

  “It’s too much pressure. Being the center of Vince Fong’s universe. Being responsible for your fulfillment. What person could deal with that?”

  “You don’t have to do anything special. You just have to be you.”

  “It still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t love you.”

  He turns away from me. “Dammit.”

  I’ve never heard him angry like this before. Anger is just not part of who Vince is, and yet I’m doing this to him.

  I wish I could say yes. Oh, I do.

  But I can’t.

  Something is holding me back from loving him. And besides, there’s the pressure. The whirlwind of this whole thing.

  I just cannot. The thought of having that ring on my finger makes me cold. My life has changed so much lately. The baby is enough for now.

  “I know why you can’t love me.” His voice has an unfamiliar edge to it. “Why I’ll never be good enough.”

  “Vince, you’re—”

  “Because I’ll never be as perfect as your father. The version of him that you’ve created in your head. Nobody can compete with that.”

  “No! That’s not true.”

  His eyes are hard stone. Me, I’m trying not to burst into tears. Stupid hormones.

  “You’ve had lots of relationships, but you’ve never been engaged. Why? It’s not because you don’t believe in marriage. It’s not because you were waiting for me, the man whose baby you’re carrying.”

  “You act like that means something, other than a freaky failure of birth control.”

  “I think it does.”

  “It can’t.”

  “So why have you never been engaged?” he presses.

  “I just didn’t love them enough!”

  “And why can’t you love me even a little?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. Why do you keep pushing me? I won’t marry you, I wish I could, but I can’t. Isn’t that enough of an answer? Why do you want to make me feel more broken?”

  I really don’t want to cry, but I do.

  I never used to think I was broken. Sure, I hadn’t found a partner, but that didn’t mean there was anything wrong with me, right? Just bad luck, like my father’s accident.

  Now, I can’t stop crying, because I can’t help thinking I’m too broken to be a good mother, and what if I can’t even love my child?

  “Oh, shit,” he murmurs. “Can I hug you? Will you let me?”

  I nod, because even though I’m pissed at him for putting me in this position, I do like him. I find his presence comforting.

  “I have food.” Vince opens up the basket. “Do you want anything?” He pulls out fruit salad, rolls, and bakeapple jam. There are wraps with spinach and cheese. There’s even a mini matcha double fromage cheesecake, plus a thermos with tea. He pours me a small cup.

  I immediately put it to my lips and burn my tongue, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it should. Then I grab a wrap and stuff it inelegantly in my mouth before I start wolfing down the cheesecake.

  Vince watches me with an unreadable expression. He wants something I can’t give him, and I feel awful. It breaks my heart, quite frankly.

  If it hurts so much, does that mean I love him?

  No, I don’t think it does.

  Maybe he’s right, and I see my dad as a superhero that no one will ever live up to.

  No, I don’t think that’s quite right, either.

  I’m mad at him for pushing me. How long has it been since he proposed the first time? Three or four months? That’s not enough time for me to change my mind.

  But maybe it should be.

  I’ve had lots of experience, and I know myself well. We’ve gotten quite close. He’s a good person.

  Is it unreasonable for me to feel like he should have something more in his life, other than me? To feel like it’s too much pressure?

  I have no idea anymore.

  I feel like we’re breaking each other.

  And yet, we’re having this baby.

  I stop eating and put my arms around him. I want to hug him and kick him in the shin at the same time. My thoughts are a jumble. Another person might be elated right now, yet here I am, a quivering mess.

  “You shouldn’t have asked me,” I tell him.

  “I can see that now,” he says mildly.

  “I wasn’t ready.”

  “When will you be ready?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He sighs. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “I know you are. I know you don’t want to hurt me.”

  “Of course not. I would never.”

  He doesn’t take back what he said about my father, though.

  “Do you want to keep dating?” he asks. “Or is this over?”

  I pretend I don’t hear how his voice is shaking. “I’m not sure. Give me a week, okay? I’ll see you at the ultrasound on Friday, and I’m sure I’ll have figured everything out by then.”

  At least, I hope I will.

  “Alright,” he says. “I’ll help you home now?”

  “No, I’ll stay here for a while.”

  “I’ll make sure there’s a car waiting for you where we entered the park.”

  I want to protest, but I don’t have the energy. It’s Saturday morning, and I’ve already had a proposal, but no coffee.

  I sit there for another ten minutes after he leaves, keeping my mind as blank as I can. Then I get up and head back, under the fluttering blossoms.

  * * *

  I don’t go home. I have the car take me straight to my mom’s.

  When Larry opens the door, I throw my arms around him. He’s the closest thing I have to a father now. He hugs me back, somewhat awkwardly—this isn’t the sort of relationship we have, and maybe that’s my fault, maybe I haven’t tried hard enough with him and his children. I was so used to it being just me and my mom, but I have more family now.

  After a few seconds, he calls for my mother, and she comes up from the basement.

  “Marissa!” she says. “What happened? Is the baby okay?”

  “Baby is fine,” I say, relieved this much is true. “Vince proposed to me again.”

  She doesn’t need to ask what happened. It doesn’t take strong powers of observation to see that I am not happily presenting a ring.

  I know she would have liked us to be together, but she doesn’t tell me that I’m an idiot for rejecting a rich, well-connected, handsome man who’s good to me.

  For some reason, I think of Pearl’s mom, who definitely would have said that, who would have been horrified if Pearl had gotten pregnant outside of marriage. Pearl’s mother has been dead for over a decade, and yes, they had a complicated relationship, but my friend would have given anything for her mother to be a nuisance when planning her wedding, when pregnant with her two children.

  Why is life so complicated?

  My mom hugs me for a long time, the one person who’s always, always been there for me, even when I screamed at her for singing lullabies to me. Even when I told her
that Dad would have let me go to the mall. Even when I was fifteen and asked her why the fuck she’d wanted Cheetos, because if she hadn’t, he would still be here. Every now and then, I said something truly awful, as I bet most teenagers do, and she still loved me.

  And now I know, with startling clarity, that I shouldn’t worry about loving my child. That I will love them no matter what. That I learned from her, and it will be okay.

  I know sometimes mothers have trouble bonding with their babies. You’re expected to feel an immediate, everlasting bond when they put the baby on your chest, but not everyone experiences that, and I can’t say exactly what will happen in those first couple months. Maybe it will take some time, but I know I will come to love my child.

  Vince, though. He’ll be there, of course, teaching our baby about coding and rocket science and singing to them in Cantonese even if he doesn’t understand the words.

  I sniffle into my mother’s shirt, and she says something eminently sensible.

  “Let’s go out for dim sum.”

  When I was a kid, this was our big treat. I would walk past the restaurants near our Agincourt apartment and see other families, bigger than two people, eating and laughing and arguing. But Mom and I, we would only go out a few times a year, because she was counting her pennies—back when we still had pennies in Canada—to pay the hydro and phone bills.

  Still, sometimes we would go out, and it would be A Big Deal.

  Now, we’re lucky. We can’t afford penthouses and the fanciest restaurants and vacations, but we don’t need that. We can go out for dim sum—and not at the cheap place—every week and stuff ourselves silly, and at one point, that would have been an unthinkable luxury.

  I ate an hour ago, but whatever, I’m pregnant and hungry.

  I manage a wobbly smile. “Yes, let’s have dim sum.”

  Chapter 27

  Vince

  When I leave High Park, the ring still in my pocket, I get a call from my real estate agent. There’s a new house on the market, and I have the cab driver take me to Yonge and Lawrence to see it.

  It’s exactly what I want.

  I push aside the images that bombard my brain as I walk through the house. Images of Marissa and Baby at different ages.

  Instead, I try to focus on what’s here. The immaculate house, everything arranged just so, probably by a staging company.