Pregnant by the Playboy

by Jackie Lau

  Afterward, I go back home, and I think about texting Brian. That’s what I used to do when I was feeling down. We wouldn’t talk about anything important, but we’d go out and have fun. Though for most of the past few years, I wouldn’t have been awake at this time on a Saturday.

  I wonder if he’s awake.

  It doesn’t matter. The last person who needs to deal with my broken heart is Brian. Besides, I don’t actually want to go anywhere.

  I head to my living room and take out a bottle of whiskey, but then I put it back.

  Instead, I sit vacantly on my couch and stare at the black screen of my enormous TV, feeling utterly useless.

  She said no.

  I’d been convinced that everything would be perfect. She’d say yes, and we’d feed each other cheesecake beneath the blossoms and try not to jump each other...and sometime before Baby came, we’d have a small wedding and move into a house together. Somewhere conveniently located for our families and her job. Decent-sized, but not huge and showy. Baby would come, and we’d spend the first year looking after our child together, and then she’d go back to work and I’d stay home.

  I had it all mapped out. It seemed so real—and so close. Like I could reach out and touch it. Sure, she’d never said she loved me, but it felt like she did, even if she couldn’t say the words.

  I didn’t think she’d turn me down. Again.

  Am I right about her father?

  I don’t know, but what does it matter.

  A no is a no.

  And I hurt her.

  I don’t fully understand it, but I did. That’s my own damn fault, for not knowing shit-all about relationships.

  I lie down on my couch, curled up in a ball. I put my hands to my chest, like I’m trying to reach my heart and ease the pain.

  Of course, my heart is inside my fucking body and I cannot just reach inside and take it out and if I did it would kill me and I think I saw something like that on Once Upon a Time? One of those shows I binge-watched when I had nothing better to do.

  My phone buzzes. Holden is in town for the weekend.

  I tell him I’m not up for it.

  I continue to lie there, for I don’t know how long, and wonder what Marissa is doing.

  I hope she’s not crying anymore.

  * * *

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  When I wake up, the weirdest thing is happening.

  Someone is taking off my shoes.

  I open my eyes and am relieved to see it’s Brian.

  “How did you get in?” I ask.

  “Uh, you left the door unlocked?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Holden texted me, worried when you said you weren’t up for seeing him this weekend.”

  “And why are you taking off my shoes?” I ask as he sets the second one on the floor.

  “Because it offends me, as an Asian and a Canadian, to see you wearing shoes indoors. When you’re sleeping on your couch, no less.” He shudders.

  “Fair point.”

  “What happened?”

  “I asked her to marry me, she said no.”

  It’s completely unfair for him to have to remove my shoes and listen to me moan about my heartbreak.

  Somebody loves me, but it’s not the person I want.

  “You don’t need to be here,” I say. “I’m perfectly fine. Haven’t even drunk any alcohol.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  “Touching, but... You know I’m not going to change my mind about you.”

  “I know,” Brian says, slightly annoyed, “but as your friend, I don’t think you should be alone. You look like shit.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.”

  “Cut the sarcasm and tell me who to call for you.”

  “My grandmother.”

  “Very funny,” he says. “I know that’s the last thing you want.”

  “My brothers.”

  “Alright. I can do that.”

  “Thank you,” I mumble before drifting back to sleep.

  * * *

  “General Bloopy says good morning!”

  This time, I wake up to a stuffed purple dinosaur nuzzling my nose.

  I sit up and rub my eyes. It’s dark outside.

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  “It’s time to wake up and touch your toes!” General Bloopy speaks in an annoying, singsong voice. He dips his head to touch his left front foot, then his right front foot.

  “Oh, fuck off,” I mutter.

  General Bloopy gasps. “Such shocking language! Somebody needs a snuggle.”

  The dinosaur then, uh, vigorously snuggles me as only a bloopisaurus can.

  On the other side of the room, someone cracks up with laughter. It’s Cedric.

  Julian is the one manipulating General Bloopy into saying completely out-of-character things, believe it or not.

  “You seem to think I’m Evie,” I say, “rather than a grown-ass man.”

  He shrugs. “Now you know how I feel when you piss me off.”

  Perhaps he has a point.

  “So you’re sleeping at eight thirty in the evening,” Cedric says as he sits down in a recliner. “This is what happens when you get dumped?”

  “To be clear,” I say, “I didn’t get dumped. She simply refused my proposal and decided she didn’t want to see me for a week.”

  “So you’re still together?”

  “Maybe? I don’t know.”

  “Seems like it might not be all that bad, then.”

  “She has no idea when she’ll be ready, and Baby will be coming this fall.”

  “That’s many months away,” Julian points out, in irritating older-brother fashion.

  “You call you child ‘Baby’?” Cedric asks.

  “We don’t know their name,” I say. “What am I supposed to call them? Fetus? Goji berry? What did you call Evie, Julian?”

  “Bean,” he says, “but ‘Baby’ is sensible. Like how Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s refused to name her cat, just called him ‘Cat.’”

  “But we’ll name Baby eventually. Just not until they’re born.”

  “I’ve still never seen Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” Cedric says. “Remember how Mom wouldn’t let us watch it?”

  Julian nods. “Because of Mickey Rooney. A white guy, playing a horrible stereotype of an Asian man. And yeah, it was that bad. But we’re getting wildly off topic. We’re here because Vince looks like shit after Marissa refused his proposal. I admit I was surprised she said no, but Courtney wasn’t.”

  Ugh. I should have listened to Courtney.

  “Stop being melodramatic and acting like it’s the end of the world,” Julian says.

  “Me?” I say. “Melodramatic? Well, I never!”

  He shakes his head and puts his hand to his temple. I think I’ve given him many headaches over the years.

  “Wait a week, like she asked,” Julian continues, “then see what she says.”

  “A week feels like forever,” I groan.

  “The melodrama. Save me.”

  “She said she doesn’t love me. I told her it was because I’d never be able to live up to the image of her dad she’d created in her mind. She started crying.”

  “Look, I understand being entirely sure about someone, even when it hasn’t been very long. But it really hasn’t been long, and maybe it takes her time to fall in love. Hopefully she’ll give you more time, and then you can be there for her. Be patient.”

  “We’re having a baby together.”

  “You don’t need to have everything perfectly arranged by then.”

  “I don’t think you’d cope well with that,” I tell Julian.

  “You may be right. But you love Marissa. Think about what she needs, not what you need, and find something to do with your time rather than obsessing about this.”

  “You know I won’t be able to help that.”

  “But still. Try. Don’t just sleep and play vi
deogames all day.”

  “Marissa says I need to find something to do with my life, other than being a parent. Not a career like what I had before. Just...something.”

  “Marissa has a point.”

  “Yes,” Cedric says, “I agree.”

  “She feels like being the center of my universe is too much pressure.”

  “Well,” Julian says, “I’m sure she’ll be the center of your universe, but it’s healthy to have multiple interests, and you’ve told me before that you’re bored. So, find something.”

  “As if it’s that easy.” I try to sit up, but my body hurts. My mind hurts. I lie back down. “She suggested the TCCC, but other than giving money, there’s only so much I can do without speaking any useful language.”

  “You could learn.”

  “Yeah, thank you, Mr. I-speak-five-languages-fluently.”

  “Six.”

  “Whatever. I’m utter shit at languages, as you know.”

  My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, under that blasted blooming cherry tree.

  “Let’s order some food,” Cedric suggests. “Yang’s Dumplings?”

  “No. Not that.”

  “How can you not be in the mood for dumplings?”

  “I’m not in the mood for anything.”

  “Vince,” Julian says sternly.

  “Marissa and I had Yang’s Dumplings together. Let’s have pizza instead.”

  Then I remember that first weekend, when we ate cold pizza.

  Fuck it. I have to eat something. Pizza it is.

  “Oh, by the way,” Julian says, after he places the order. “Dad had Marissa investigated.”

  “Jesus Christ. I didn’t want him to do that. I hope nobody was following her.” I hate the thought of her privacy being invaded.

  “Well, it’s over now, and he’s convinced she isn’t angling for all your money. So he’s not against this anymore.”

  “Perfect timing.”

  “Vince, this will work out. It’s not going exactly the way you wish, but you have to accept that the world won’t always bend to your will, as hard as that may be for you. Just...be there for her in the way she wants. Give her space when she needs it. I suspect that finding herself unexpectedly pregnant has brought up a lot of things for her, and you might not feel like you’re rushing into this, but she does, and that’s okay. And she’s the one who’s pregnant, not you. She trusts you, right?”

  “Yeah, she does.”

  “I do, too,” Julian says. “Even if there were years when you were constantly talking about hookers and blow, and I could never be sure what was real and what was a joke.”

  Apparently our conversation has gotten too heavy for him, because he pulls out General Bloopy again.

  “I love you, Vince!” the bloopisaurus says. “I’m sure you’ll make a great dad.” He plants a kiss on my cheek.

  “Julian, man, I think you’re losing it,” Cedric says.

  “Evie refused to sleep last night.”

  Our pizza arrives, and I confiscate General Bloopy from Julian. I start feeling a little less like complete shit, which is an improvement.

  What else could I do with my life?

  It’s terrifying, yeah, but a little exciting at the same time.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, after spending most of Saturday sleeping on the couch, I have a terrible night’s sleep. I suppose I should get used to this for when the baby comes.

  After coffee and cold pizza for Sunday breakfast, I stumble into the room full of things for Baby and look around. I can’t wait to meet Baby.

  And God, I miss Marissa. And I will keep missing her. But I will keep my mind on the ultrasound at the end of this week, when I’ll see her next.

  She might not love me now, but that doesn’t mean she never will.

  I refuse to let everything go to shit. I remember burning out and how badly I coped with it. Now, I’m going to create a balanced life that will not destroy my mental health.

  It doesn’t sound glamorous, but I don’t need that anymore.

  My gaze falls on Baby Loves Coding! and it gives me an idea.

  Chapter 28

  Marissa

  I’m in the waiting room. My ultrasound is in twenty minutes, and Vince isn’t here yet, but that’s okay. There’s still time, and I know he’ll be here soon. Usually he picks me up for my appointments, but this one is at the end of the day, and he was going to visit his niece first and asked if he could meet me here instead.

  I’ve thought about Vince a lot in the past week, and I think I want to keep seeing him. Maybe I’ll come to love him, and it’s just not something I can do quickly.

  That doesn’t mean I’m broken.

  He’s able to fully commit to things in a short period of time, and I admire that about him. It’s not me, though, and that’s okay. He just has to understand.

  Still, something bothers me.

  He said I couldn’t love him because he couldn’t live up to the superhero dad of my imagination. I suspect he regrets it. I know he feels terrible about hurting me. I know he’ll listen to what I have to say today.

  But I can’t help wondering if there’s an element of truth to it.

  Yes, my dad was a bit of a superhero in my mind. Perhaps, although I didn’t grow up with any important adult men in my life, that’s why I had high expectations of the men I dated.

  Except I didn’t really have high expectations, did I? I just expected to be treated decently, and the fact that some people might see that as unrealistic is sad.

  I don’t think Vince is right, but it still bothers me.

  Sitting across from me is a woman, about my age, who looks very pregnant. She’s here alone, but she’s got a ring on her finger. We smile at each other.

  The last time I had an ultrasound, I was suffering from morning sickness and puked in the garbage can when the couple nearby called Everclear “classic rock.”

  That was seven weeks ago. A lot has happened in seven weeks.

  Just then, I experience a strange fluttery feeling.

  I grin. I think I just felt Baby move for the first time!

  Oh, I wish Vince was here. I send him a text.

  I wait a few minutes, but he doesn’t reply. He’s probably driving. He’ll be here soon.

  Baby is apparently now the size of a mango or tomato. Last week, they were the size of a pepper. Honestly, a tomato is a terrible basis for comparison. Tomatoes vary a lot in size, don’t they? And I’m not talking grape or cherry tomatoes—I know that’s not what they mean—but all the others. Aren’t they often smaller than peppers?

  Hell, maybe mangoes vary a lot, too. There’s just not a lot of variety in mangoes at my local grocery store.

  This reminds me of my conversation with Vince about limes and plums.

  God, where is he?

  It’s less than five minutes until my appointment time.

  A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been surprised. I would have chalked it up to him being Vince Fong, the playboy who somehow managed to knock me up. The guy who’d be the fun father, showing up a couple times a month to take our kid out for ice cream and play catch.

  But I know him better now, and this isn’t like him.

  I send him another text. Where are you??

  Surely he should be out of his car by now, right? Hurrying from his parking spot to the ultrasound clinic?

  He’s going to be late. It’s not like Vince to be late and not tell me anything.

  In fact, it’s really not like him at all.

  Whenever I have an appointment or an unbearable craving for cheesecake, he’s a hundred percent committed. Even when Cheese & Me was sold out of matcha double fromage cheesecake, he didn’t give up. He got me what I wanted.

  Sure, things are a little awkward between us now, but he loves me. He loves Baby. He would be here no matter what.

  One minute.

  He would be here no matter what.

  Unless... />
  My blood runs cold.

  I put my hands on my stomach to comfort Baby, even though there’s nothing I can do to comfort myself.

  Something terrible must have happened. That’s the only explanation.

  My dad went to get a bag of Cheetos for my mother, and he never came back.

  When I met up with Vince after discovering I was pregnant, I was thrilled I’d be able to give my child a father, the father I didn’t have, even if he wasn’t exactly the one I would have chosen.

  Except now I think Vince will be the best father possible for Baby.

  And the truth is, I did have a father when I was nothing more than a mango-sized fetus in my mom’s uterus. Maybe he talked to me. Maybe she placed his hand on her stomach so he could feel me kick.

  He held me, he changed my diapers, he played with me.

  He sang to me.

  I had a father for three years.

  He was younger than Vince when he died.

  It suddenly seems ridiculous that I haven’t worried about anything happening to Vince, and now he’s not here when he’s supposed to be.

  It’s all wrong.

  Oh, God. Baby isn’t going to know their father at all. Baby won’t even have a hazy memory of their dad singing them a Cantonese lullaby.

  No, this can’t be happening.

  And maybe it isn’t. Maybe there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation...except I can’t wrap my mind around that. If he couldn’t be here, Vince would have contacted me some way or another. If his phone was dead, he would have grabbed a phone off a random passerby and punched in my number—I’m sure he has my number memorized.

  “Are you okay?”

  I blink and realize I’m crying.

  “Are you okay?” the woman across from me asks again.

  “Yeah,” I say, even though it’s clearly a lie, but she lets it go.

  He’s three minutes late now, and I’m just thankful they haven’t called me in yet. We’re supposed to find out if it’s a boy or girl today.

  Now it will just be me finding out.

  How is this happening?

  I never even got to tell Vince that I love him.

  It hits me now, overwhelming in its intensity.

  I do love him.

  And I understand why I couldn’t tell him, why I couldn’t acknowledge it to myself. It had nothing to do with him not living up to my father.