“Stop it,” I said. Strange emotions swirled around inside me, and I couldn’t grasp the meaning of them. “Don’t try to be romantic. There’s nothing between us and you know it. I’m just a good bed partner.”
“Says who?”
I lifted up on a elbow. “Says me. You have no more interest in getting romantically involved right now than I do. It’s just sex. So, if we want to do it and we realize that’s all there is to it, fine. But don’t try to romanticize this!”
“I’m not. I never said anything except that you have beautiful breasts and that I want to be inside you so bad I would give my left nut.”
“Oh.” The disappointment felt like a kick in the gut. I didn’t know what I expected, or what I even wanted from this man. One thing was for sure. I didn’t want to open up to him like I had with Stephen. I couldn’t stand that kind of pain again. But I wanted more than just sex. Hell did I know. My emotions were like a roller-coaster, and if I didn’t understand them I couldn’t expect him to. And so I inched away. “Well, I think it’s a mistake.”
His hand traveled back down to my patch, and before I could stop him he touched me and found me hot and moist. “Are you sure? I think you want it as much as I do.” He kissed me where his hand had been. “We can make love for the pleasure of it. We don’t need any other reason.”
I froze, and I don’t know why. I’d made love simply for the fun of it on many occasions. Why now did I get all hormonal and have to validate it?
Sadly, I whispered, “I can’t do this…” I’d already made one huge mistake tonight. I couldn’t afford another.
His eyes held mine for a moment. “Lydia, can we talk about this? Really talk? I mean, you’re confusing the hell out of me. One minute you’re all over me and then the next, you’re pulling back. I don’t get it. I thought you wanted it too.”
Sniffing, I said, “I did, and I do. But Jed, I just feel that if we make love right now it will make things worse.”
* * *
It was eight o’clock in the morning when the phone rang. I picked up and noticed on caller ID that it was Fran.
“So did you do it?”
“I certainly did not.” What a question. How did she know that I came close…
“But you said you would…to be sure.” Fran’s voice trailed off. “Okay, I know it’s none of my business.”
“Oh!” She’d meant the home pregnancy test. “No, I didn’t. Actually I had a plan and it kind of backfired.”
I told her about it, and she started to laugh. “It isn’t funny. I really screwed myself. I’m sure if I wasn’t pregnant before, I am now.”
“Oh, Lydia, I’m sorry, but it is kind of funny.”
I snapped back, “Not when the person it’s happening to is you.”
Hearing her silence, I melted. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “I’m in a real jam, aren’t I?”
“Kind of. But a nice one. I think it’s wonderful news. It’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you, you’ll see.”
“We’re just speculating here. It isn’t a foregone conclusion.”
“So, what are you waiting for?”
“Certainly not a miracle. I think I’ve had enough of those.”
She laughed. “Time to face the music.”
“Look, I’m still in bed,” I said, well aware I was procrastinating. But so what? Sue me. “I’m going to get up in a few minutes, have some breakfast, read the newspaper, and then, we’ll see…”
“Want me to come over? Need some moral support?”
“No, but thanks anyway. I think I need to do this alone.”
“Okay, but call me later, will you?”
“Sure.”
I didn’t get up right away. I tried to think about how my life would change, and for the better, but I couldn’t find much to get excited over. Visions of my sister weighted down with diaper bags and formula, sweatshirts crusted with baby vomit, her entire identity that of a mummy. That, sure in hell, wasn’t me.
I had a leisurely shower, washed my hair and shaved my legs. Then I had to blow dry my long, thick hair, which is painfully slow, and put on a little make-up. After that I chose my clothes for the day, but they were more wrinkled than my Aunt Maggie’s face without her teeth, so I dragged out the ironing board. After putting it away, I realized I hadn’t vacuumed in at least a week.
Then it was noon. I checked out my e-mails, read the paper, drank my coffee, had my dry piece of toast, the only thing that seemed to settle my stomach.
I’d procrastinated until I ran out of things to do.
The time had come for the fat lady to sing. Drum-roll, please.
* * *
I opened the second EPT box defiantly, because I hadn’t liked the result from the first. The second test was no better.
I was having a baby. Me, a mother, what a laugh! I wasn’t even all that fond of kids, and I have no patience whatsoever. None, zero. I wouldn’t want to have me as a mother. I’m all about me. It’s my apartment, my car, my career, my family, my friends, and until recently, I wasn’t very good about that. See what I mean? Where would the baby fit in? And I don’t have space. My second bedroom is my home office, and I’m not about to share mine. There’s no way. I’m way too selfish. The baby will just have to go away to wherever it came from, because I don’t have the time or the space or the inclination to change my life and raise a child. So there!
I flung the empty box across the room, then marched over and kicked it. Stupid piece of shit. A little strip that I pee on is supposed to inform me that I’m having a baby, and that whether I like it or not, nine months from now, a demanding little attention getter was going to descend on me and make my life a living hell.
I don’t think so, buddy. I could terminate the pregnancy; that’s what I could do. It’s my legal right. And I would be doing the baby a favor. He or she could go back to embryo-land and wait to be born to someone else. I felt my tummy and swore vehemently.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it. Honest. You can stay if you want to. We’ll figure it out, don’t worry. We’ll work on this together, you and I. I might not be the best mother in the world, or the most tolerant. As a matter of fact, if you’re a girl I might never let you go out with a boy alone, and I might harp at you to eat your vegetables, and to clean your room if and when you have one, but we’ll be friends, sure. People do like me, and I think you will too, once you get to know me.”
Oh, shit. There I go again. It’s all about me.
“And as for you, if you’re a boy, well, we will have to figure out a way to communicate. I don’t know what boys think about, and I’m not sure that I want to. But whoever you are, I will love you the best I can, I will support you in all your endeavors, I will encourage you to shoot for the stars, and do everything in my power to make up for the fact that I don’t want you. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m sorry, little one. I’m so sorry.”
I felt like a monster. Why wasn’t I born with a motherhood gene? Where was I when they were being passed out? Playing baseball with the boys? Oh shit, what was I going to tell people? That I was expecting a baby in…when? My fingers tallied up the months. I’d slept with Jed on August 10th, September, October, November, December, January, February, March, April. Yes, April the tenth. No, that wasn’t right. It would be May the 10th. My father’s birthday. Oh wow! How cool.
I must admit I did get a little excited about the prospect of telling my dad that he was going to be a grandpa on his birthday. But the downer was that my parents would want to know who the father was. Bummer.
He would be Mr. X—the x factor. What should I call the baby then? Malcolm? He would need a name. A good strong name to make up for the fact that he only had one. The Y chromosome produced boys, the X made girls. The song, Jeremiah was a Bull-frog came to mind. It kind of leaped there. Could use Jer or Mia. Both were cute names. For bull-frogs.
My fingers drummed on the counter top. I’d love a glass of wine, or a quick shot of
something, but that was out. Just one of the many things in my life that was about to change. I felt a moment’s panic. What wouldn’t? Was their any portion of my world that wouldn’t be affected by this one little oops? I didn’t think so. I had to talk it out, but it wasn’t Fran that I needed right now. It was Shannon.
Dialing the number, I was relieved when I heard my sister pick up.
“Shannon. I’m so glad you’re home. I need to talk. Have you got a minute?”
“A minute—not much more. I’m getting ready to pick Amber up from school. What’s up?”
“Are you sitting down. No? Then do so.”
“Okay, I’m seated. Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Lydia, what is it?” Shannon asked in alarm. “Are you sick?”
“Kind of.” I drew in a deep breath and then expelled. “I don’t know any other way to say this. I’m pregnant!” I blurted.
“No.” Shannon’s voice, betrayed her shock. “Jed’s?”
“Don’t be silly. It’s nobody’s.” I started to laugh, rocking back and forth and holding my tummy, “It’s mine.”
“Lydia? You sound upset.”
“Upset?” My voice broke on a sob. “Why? I’m having a baby,” I blubbered. “The poor little thing. I’m going to be a terrible mother. I’m a monster who doesn’t want her own baby.”
“You are no such thing. Lyd, you’re wonderful with kids. You’re everybody’s favorite Auntie.” Shannon stopped. “Oh, crap. What are we going to tell Mom and Dad? They’ll have a fit.” Her voice grew firm. “Have you thought this out? You’re sure you want to do this? You have a small apartment, no patience whatsoever, can’t cook worth a damn, and you don’t like to get out of bed before seven. How can you possibly raise a baby?”
“Damn it, Shannon. I called you for support, not to be reminded of my short-comings.” I swallowed a lump in my throat, “I can do this alone. Look at all the women who have. Rosie O’Donnell, Candace Bergman, Cher.”
“Cher had Sonny.”
“Point taken. Okay, I’m not perfect, but I can change. And I will. What about you? What did you know about raising babies and being a stay-at-home mom?”
“I had Kyle, but you’re on your own. Who will mind the baby while you work?” Shannon sighed, “Sometimes you put in twelve-fourteen hour days.”
“We have an office day-care, but they don’t take babies until they’re six months old. So I’ll hire someone.”
“What will happen to your career if people find out the baby is Jed’s?”
“I admit to nothing. The father’s last name will be listed as unknown. The baby will be O’Reilley, and that’s all there is to it.”
“I hope you’re right.” Shannon still didn’t sound convinced, and this made me feel worse.
“Everything will work out fine. Just you wait and see.” I’m a very capable person and raising a baby isn’t rocket science. I can and I will do this alone.
Shannon exhaled. “I know, Sweetie. It’s our upbringing. You really have no choice but to have this baby, and I’m behind you one hundred percent.” She added, “Tell you what. I’ll even watch the baby while you’re at work for the first six months.”
“Who’s baby?” I heard Kyle ask.
“Lydia’s,” she whispered back.
I heard a noise like something had fallen. “What’s Kyle doing home?”
“He’s got a meeting in Atlanta. His flight leaves in a couple of hours.” I heard her do a sidebar to her husband. “No, I’m not kidding. Lydia’s pregnant.”
I marched over to the patio doors, opened them wide and shouted, “Hey, everybody, I’m pregnant.”
Shannon asked, “What are you doing?”
“I went out on the balcony and shouted it to my neighbors.”
“Why?”
I rolled my eyes. “I was telling you this in confidence and you turned around and told Kyle. So much for keeping it in the bag! I guess I no longer have to worry about telling the family. You two can do it for me.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. You know I can’t keep a secret from Kyle.”
I quickly relented. “Everybody will know soon enough. I won’t be able to hide it for long.”
“You’re so thin you probably won’t show for five or six months.”
“Either that or I’ll look like the toothpick that swallowed the olive. You really will take care of the baby? I’d pay you of course.”
My fab sister scoffed. “I’m not taking your money.”
“I couldn’t let you do it unless you did.” I puffed with indignation. “Deal?”
“Well, Amber would love a computer, and my dishwasher is stuck in one cycle. Deal.”
A little while later I called Fran and updated her on the news. She asked me when I was going to tell Jed.
I had no idea. I didn’t answer the phone for the rest of the day. Sometime around eight I heard a knocking on my door, but I pretended I wasn’t home.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I made the doctor’s appointment for the following week, and since my period had still not arrived, it was no big surprise when she said, “Congratulations. You’re pregnant.”
I stammered something and tried to act excited but she could see right through me.
“Lydia, was the pregnancy planned?” she asked in a non-judgmental voice.
“No, not at all. It’s a bit of a shock, really.” I cleared my throat. “Don’t worry. I have nine months to get used to the idea.”
“We can discuss options, of course,” Dr. Shelby spoke calmly, as if I had a mild yeast infection, instead of a baby. “Don’t make any hasty decisions right now.” She added, “we can discuss it on your next visit in one month’s time.”
“Thank you. But I’ve already made up my mind. I’m having this baby.”
“Good. I think you’ll make a wonderful mother.”
“Come on, Doctor, you’re just saying that ’cause you have to. You’ve known me a long time.”
“Twelve years, and that’s one of the reasons I have full confidence in you. Once you decide to do something you don’t let anything get in your way. You’ll be terrific.”
She walked across the room and put together something that reminded me of a welcome pack. “Here.” She handed it to me. “There’s a lot of information for you to assemble, so take your time, read up on it, and I’ll see you back here in a month. Make an appointment on your way out.”
“Thank you,” I said again, as the idea became larger than life. I didn’t budge from my perch on the edge of the table.
“Everything is looking fine. Do you feel good? Any problems?”
“I’ve been queasy in the mornings.”
“We do have some medication you can take for that, but try Saltines. Put some next to your bed, and eat a few crackers before you get up. That should help. We also recommend that you take a pre-natal vitamin. I have included in your pack several samples from different distributors, and some literature to help you choose.”
The doctor continued, “We also need to take your pre-pregnancy weight, blood pressure, and a urine sample. I’ll have one of the nurses take those right away.”
“Thank you.” I don’t know why I kept thanking her, but she seemed so matter-of-fact about this life altering baby issue that I was momentarily reassured.
“If you need to talk before the month is up, call me, okay?”
“Okay. Doctor Shelby, I appreciate it.”
After the nurse had come and gone, I walked out and tried not to stare at all the other pregnant ladies sitting in their chairs waiting to see the gynecologist. Most of the women were very pregnant, and I was just a little. Kind of. Maybe. I could be, or I could not. My choice. A woman’s right to choose. Not my baby’s right. Mine.
So, you better be good, baby, you hear?
* * *
I rode down the elevator with my new pregnancy kit, feeling like a stranger in my body. An alien had taken over. I was somebody else, not an unwed, terrifi
ed mother-to-be. If the elevator had a mirror in it I would surely see someone else looking back. Not a high powered divorce attorney. Not me.
I remembered my mother telling me that I’d been a fighter from the day I was born. The umbilical cord had been around my neck and I almost died, but didn’t. Dad says I’ve been pretty much fighting ever since. And it’s paid off.
I was successful, I had pretty much everything I wanted, and what I didn’t have, I didn’t need. True, I had been a gawky kid-overly tall, skinny, and clumsy. I’ll never forget the one time in middle school when a captain actually chose me for her basketball team, since I was a head taller than most, but I couldn’t dribble the ball and run at the same time, and everybody made fun of me. I remember practicing all summer until I could dribble, and talk, and blow bubbles, too, but it didn’t matter. I never got a chance to prove myself.
I’m also accident prone. Little stuff mostly, like tripping over my feet or my shoe laces, falling off my bike head first because I didn’t see a pothole in the road. Once I jumped out of an upstairs window to sneak off for a moonlight swim with my girlfriends and landed in a prickly bougainvillea bush. Earned me a trip to the emergency room which cured me of that habit.
Would my baby be a fighter? Would she be tall and red-headed and gangly like me, or handsome and fair and coordinated like Jed? And speaking of Jed, what was I going to say to him? He’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want me to have this baby, but if I did, I just knew that he’d get involved and want to share in the raising of my child, and like hell would I let him. My baby, my decision, my responsibility. Not his.
* * *
It was time to tell my parents before they heard it from anyone else. I took Mom and Dad to Joe’s Stone Crab, one of their favorites.
“Hi.” We kissed each other’s cheeks. “Glad we came early,” I said. It was only six but already there was an hour wait. We knew the routine and were prepared to have cocktails in the bar until the first available table was ready.
Dad was a big drinker, but not as bad as he used to be. When we were kids, Dad owned a bar in Somerville, New Jersey, and Mom used to say he drank the profits. She persuaded Dad to sell the business, and he bought a bowling alley in Charlotte, North Carolina.
The Candy Bar Complete - 4 book box set: Candy Bar Series Page 12
