by Claire Adams
“Wait!” I can hear him calling behind me.
The only reason that I stop is that he has my phone and my dad could call at any moment.
The conversation went something like this:
I said, “Hello.”
Linda said, “Hey, are you okay? Your voice sounds funny. Is something wrong?”
I answered, “No, I was just sleeping. What’s up?”
She asked, “Are you with Eric?”
“Yeah, he’s here, why?” I responded.
“I just really need to talk to him,” she said.
Eric told me that he was going to go grab some towels and he left the room as I was saying, “He’s kind of busy at the moment. Is it important?”
The line was quiet for a few seconds.
She finally answered, saying, “I just got back from the doctor. I’m pregnant. I really need to talk to Eric.”
Already knowing the answer, I asked, “Why do you need to talk to him?”
The line was quiet again.
“Linda?”
She took a loud breath and said, “Because he’s the father.”
That’s when I left the room and found him wiping himself off from the sex we’d just had.
Now, he’s standing in front of me, asking his question into the phone, “Are you sure?”
I just stand there, ready to rip the phone out of his hand, but I’m stuck, unmoving.
“All right,” he says, finally. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.”
He hangs up and I snatch the phone from his hand, yelling, “What the fuck?”
His hands are up and in front of him and he’s saying, “It happened a few months back, before anything happened with us.”
“Funny how you never bothered mentioning that you fucked one of my employees,” I rejoin. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I don’t know how this happened,” he says. “We were careful.”
“Careful?” I ask. “You don’t get someone pregnant by being careful. Did you use a condom?”
His hesitance is not doing him any favors.
“No,” he says, “but I pulled out well before I… you know.”
“God, you’re a fucking idiot,” I tell him. “Were you ever planning on mentioning this to me?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says. “It only happened the one time. I haven’t even thought about it in—”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be a fun story to tell your new kid,” I interrupt. “I need to get the hell out of here.”
“Please,” he says, “wait. I want to talk to you about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about!” I shout at him. “Do you have any idea what that’s like: having the most intimate, mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had in your life and immediately afterward to get a phone call saying the person you just slept with has a baby on the way and oh, by the by, it’s with a friend of yours?”
He takes a step toward me, saying, “Listen, I know I should have told you, but it happened months before we ever got together.”
“Get some fucking clothes on,” I snap. “I can’t be here right now. This is so fucked.”
He follows me about as far as the door, but he stops short of public nudity. All the while, he’s calling behind me, saying, “Wait!” he’s saying, “Jessica, stop!”
I’m not stopping for a fucking thing.
I get down to my car and I just sit there in the driver’s seat for a minute, waiting for the rest of the world I was beginning to envision to crumble before me.
Yeah, we weren’t together when it happened and as far as I know, Linda still doesn’t know that we’re together.
Why did she try to call him on my phone, though?
That’s an easy enough answer: they didn’t even bother exchanging phone numbers.
I feel like an idiot, and when my phone rings again, I’m ready to throw it out the fucking window, right until I realize that it might be my dad with an update on my mom.
“Oh, I need good news right now,” I mutter as my hands shake over my phone’s screen. “I can’t handle bad news right now. I can’t take any more fucked up—” I answer the phone, “Hey, Dad. Did they get the test results back?”
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks. “You sound upset.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell him. “I’m going to be fine. Have you heard anything about Mom?”
“The doctor just came in,” he says. “It looks like they got everything. They’re going to have her come back to make sure it doesn’t regrow, but from the look of things, she’s going to be just fine.”
“Oh, thank God,” I tell him. “I really don’t think I could handle any more bad news right now.”
“What’s going on, Jessica?” he asks.
“I really don’t want to talk about it right now, Dad,” I tell him. “Thanks for calling and telling me what’s going on with Mom. When do you think they’re going to let her go home?”
“They’re going to keep her overnight just to make sure her SATs stay where they need to be and give her another night with the painkillers. They gave her a prescription, but I guess it’s not as strong as what she’s getting in—sweetheart, are you crying?” he asks.
“Yeah, Dad,” I tell him. “I’m crying. I’m sorry. It’s just been a rough day since I left your house.”
“Did something happen with Eric?” he asks. “What’s going on?”
“Dad, I really don’t feel up to talking about it right now. What’s important is that Mom’s going to be okay,” I tell him. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise,” I lie, “I’m going to be just fine.”
Hesitantly, he responds, “All right, sweetheart. If you need anything at all, even if you want to just talk, you give me a call, okay?”
“Okay,” I tell him. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he says, and I hang up.
After that, I just hunch over the steering wheel and bawl.
Chapter Twenty
Drowning in Your Sleep
Eric
She won’t answer her phone or any of the messages that I’ve sent her. I know that I should probably give her some time, but I just don’t want to see things with Jessica end like this.
As if the situation wasn’t already awkward, to put it very lightly, I still don’t have Linda’s number and I sure as hell don’t want Jessica to have to be on the other end of one of those phone calls again.
I honestly wasn’t trying to hide it from her. Up until last night, it was all ancient history as far as I was concerned.
Yeah, I knew it was stupid going without a condom, but I figured the chances of conception after pulling out with so much time before… but that doesn’t matter. The fact is that Linda’s pregnant with my baby.
She’d gotten back with her boyfriend very soon after she and I hooked up, but apparently, the two wanted to get to know one another again before they brought the relationship back to the bedroom.
I asked her if she’d been with anyone else during the period of time—but she wasn’t. It’s definitely mine.
Linda told me that she wasn’t asking for anything, but she just wanted to let me know. Still, the fact of the matter is that it’s my child, and I’m going to make sure he or she is supported, whether or not I go for any kind of custody.
Custody.
Jesus.
Part of me has always wanted to have a kid, but this has to be the furthest thing from the way I imagined it happening.
The store should be opening up, and I’m not sure if Jessica’s at work or not. Regardless, I need to get Linda’s phone number. The fact that I didn’t get it before now seems so ridiculous, but it really was just a one-time thing.
Wasn’t there something about a boyfriend?
Isn’t that why she called it off after that first time?
Part of me wants to think that she’s lying about being pregnant or lying about being mine, but the rest of me hates myself for even hoping f
or something like that.
Yeah, I’ll ask her about the boyfriend, but I’m not going to try to get out of the responsibility if it is, indeed, mine.
I look up the phone number for Lady Bits online—the only number I had for it before was Jessica’s personal line.
Come to think of it, I haven’t checked my work phone since before I met up with José, Ian, and what’s his name that bailed halfway through the meeting.
That doesn’t matter right now.
I call the number and pray for a friendly voice on the other end of the line, though I don’t expect one.
“You’ve reached Lady Bits, home of—”
“Linda?” I ask. It sounds like her voice, but I’m really not keen on taking that kind of chance right now. As much as I’d love to talk to Jessica, this is not the context.
“Yes?” she asks. “Who’s this?”
“It’s Eric,” I tell her. “I don’t have your phone number, and I wanted to make sure that we could keep in contact.”
“Oh,” she says. “Can I call you back in a few minutes? I’ve got a customer coming up to the front.”
“You don’t have my number,” I tell her.
“That’s all right,” she says. “I’ll just get it from Jessica.”
“No, wait!”
She’s already hung up.
I start to write Jessica another text, but decide against it. Instead, I press redial.
“You’ve reached Lady Bits, home of—”
“Linda, it’s Eric,” I tell her. “Take down this number.”
She sighs. “All right,” she says. “Go ahead.”
“All right,” I tell her, “it’s 555-2625. Did you get that?”
“Yeah,” she says, “555-2625. I really have to go now. I’ve got a customer waiting.”
She hangs up the phone and I feel like I’ve dodged a bullet. Okay, maybe not a bullet, but at least one BB from the shotgun blast.
The rest of it, it seems, is headed straight for me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I have no idea what to do here. There doesn’t seem to be anything left that I can do except for wait and hope for the best.
I’ve never been so good at waiting.
I pull my phone back out of my pocket and dial the number.
“Hello?”
“Hey Irene,” I say, “I don’t suppose Alec’s around, is he?”
“No, he’s out,” Irene says. “They’re just finishing up in Jersey. He should be back tonight, though, can I take a message for you, Eric?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, “no. I don’t know. I’m kind of gotten myself into a mess here, and I don’t know what the fuck to do.”
“Ooh,” she says, “lady problems?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, “but make that plural.”
“You sly dog,” she says. “What’s going on?”
“I really don’t know if you want to hear about it,” I tell her. “It has to do with one of your friends.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you got things going with Jessica and then decided to sneak around with that sister of hers,” Irene says. “She really needs to stop doing that shit. I mean, she’s pregnant for fuck’s—”
“Everybody’s pregnant,” I mutter.
“What was that?” she asks.
“No, it doesn’t have anything to do with Kristin,” I tell her.
“Then what’s going on?” she asks.
“I really don’t know if I want to talk about it,” I tell her. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Are you home?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I answer. “Why?”
“I’m on my way,” she says.
“You really don’t have to do that,” I tell her.
“Oh come off it,” she giggles. “I love giving advice. You should really know this by now. Besides, you’re one of my friends, too.”
There really doesn’t seem to be any better option on the horizon, so I say, “All right. I’ll be here.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Irene does love giving advice. How useful it is, though, generally depends on how much she’s had to drink that day, and from the sound of things, she’s already had a couple.
Before I set my phone down, I send Irene a text, saying, “You’re not driving, are you?”
I wait a few seconds and then pull up her number to call, but I get a text back, just one word: “Cab.”
Well, this should be embarrassing.
Chapter Twenty-One
Of All the Clothing Stores on the Upper West Side…
Jessica
I come into work a bit late, but I’m just glad I summoned the courage to come in at all.
Last night, the vengeful part of me wanted to fire Linda, but she can’t really be blamed for what happened. Yeah, I told her specifically not to sleep with Eric—of course, back when I said that, it was just because he was going to be working in the store—but still, unless it happened after Eric and I got together and she knew about it, I can’t really be too mad at her.
Still, when I walk through the front door and see her standing at her register, I have to clench my teeth to keep from unloading on her.
“Hey, Jessica,” Linda says as I walk past without looking. “What’s up?”
I just keep going until I get to my office.
The store is busy today, so I can’t very well just make up an excuse and leave. Cheryl’s here, but there’s just too much to do.
If nothing else, maybe work will help me take my mind off of everything.
Cheryl knocks on my door.
“Did you see?” she asks. “We’re bouncing back.”
“Yeah,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. (It’s not a large amount.) “It looks like things are really moving out there. You’re doing great work, Cheryl,” I tell her. “Thanks for keeping an eye on the store the last couple of days.”
“Not a problem,” she says. “I am loving this whole manager thing. There are a few things I wanted to go over with you, though.”
I’m so spaced I didn’t even realize she’s been holding a clipboard this whole time.
Cheryl goes over sales numbers by department over the past couple of days that I’ve been gone, and makes some suggestions regarding how we might increase those sales in the departments that are still lagging.
She has some good ideas, I think, but I’m nowhere near paying attention. At the moment, I’m looking through the office doorway at Linda, trying to see if she’s showing yet.
“Jessica?” Cheryl asks.
“Yeah,” I answer, returning my focus on her.
“I was just saying that we’re starting to move enough product in the rest of the store that we might just have some leverage to renegotiate with Burbank and get a better deal so we can lower prices and get some more people in every part of the store,” she says.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “He seemed pretty full of himself when he left here last time.”
“That’s why I was thinking we might want to consider bringing in a negotiator to help us here, now I know that’s going to cost some money, but if we can talk Burbank out of throwing us the rest of the way off the ledge, I think we can really make a difference here,” she says.
“Did you have anyone in mind?” I ask.
“I was hoping you might know someone,” she says.
“Wish I did,” I answer. “I’ll keep my eyes out, though. If there’s any way we could even get him to sit back down with us before the term of that contract is up, I say it’s worth it.”
“Also,” Cheryl adds, “I think we’re going to need another full-time cashier, maybe two. I’ve been jumping in when I can, but even then we’re getting overloaded.”
“I’ll look into it,” I tell her.
“Great,” Cheryl says. She smiles and walks back out the door.
As she goes, I’m only just starting to realize exactly how busy we are.
I
stand up and move to the doorway, my mouth dropping further as more of the store comes into view.
How did I miss that?
The store is full of people milling about, holding up clothes to themselves in mirrors, talking, laughing—what’s more, they’re buying.
The line in front of Linda’s register is six people deep, and by the time Cheryl opens up the next register over, that number just continues to grow.
Women of all shapes and sizes are moving about every department, so many of them with a smile on their face.
I walk out into the store and just listen to what people are saying as I go.
It’s positive. It’s all positive.
People aren’t just talking with each other; they’re talking about the store, about the clothes. I have no clue what Cheryl’s been up to in the few days that I’ve been gone, but whatever it is, it’s working.
The biggest draw, it seems, is the recessed area in plus sizes.
Where they exist, there are plus sizes among all of the other departments of the store, but this section, this little piece of the store where plus-sized women can get items that aren’t available anywhere else for anyone else, is thriving.
“Excuse me?” a woman asks, coming up to me.
“Yes? How can I help you today?” I ask.
“I was wondering if you happened to have this in black?” she asks, holding up a dress. “I know it’s probably a long shot, but I really think this dress in black would just be perfect for me.”
One of the upsides of spending most of my life in this store as a control freak is that I know every single item that’s in it.
“I know that we used to have it, but let’s see if it’s still in stock,” I tell her, and we walk over to the next rack over from where she got the dress she’s holding.
I look through, and sure enough, it’s right there.
“Oh, thank you,” she says as I hand it to her. “You really have a wonderful thing going here. You know, I used to walk by here all the time, but one of my girlfriends showed me these shoes she got here, and well, I just had to come in and see it for myself.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, and I’m actually smiling as she walks away.
I don’t know if this upswing alone is going to be enough to convince Burbank to sit back down with me, but whenever we do talk terms again, so long as this keeps up, I’m going to have a hell of a lot of leverage.
