Brat

by Alicia Michaels

  I eyed his Levi’s critically. “I guess those can stay, but that T-shirt has to go. And for God’s sake, comb your hair.” Rifling through his open suitcase, I found a blue striped, button-up shirt. “Put this on instead,” I demanded, tossing the shirt at him and reaching back into the suitcase for the boots I’d spotted at the bottom. “These will look better with that than your sneakers.”

  “I should have known, rich people dress for dinner,” he grumbled, pulling the T-shirt off over his head and reaching for the button-up. I tried not to salivate over his broad chest and tapered waist, but it was damn hard. “Do I meet your approval now?” he asked as he bent to pull off the sneakers.

  “One more thing,” I declared, going back into the bathroom for my comb, brush, and hair mousse. When I was done, Chase’s locks were combed back from his forehead and slicked, parted on one side. He stared at himself in the mirror and frowned.

  “I look like a conceited douchebag,” he grumbled.

  I nodded. “Perfect. He’ll love you. Let’s go.”

  Chase followed me down the stairs, fidgeting the entire way and running his hands over his slicked hair. Sandra was filling water glasses when we entered the dining room, and my dad was already there, sitting at the head of the table. His black hair was slicked back in much the same style as Chase’s, and he was wearing a shirt and tie, his cuff links gleaming in the light of the chandeliers. His square jaw was clenched in a state of perpetual up-tightness, his lips pursed, and his eyes sharp as a hawk’s and black as pitch. He was an intimidating guy, but to his credit, Chase didn’t even falter in the face of that hawkish stare.

  He stood as we approached, ignoring me to look Chase over from head to toe. “So, you must be the young man Sandra told me about.”

  Of course Sandra had been the one to tell him I’d brought a boy home; Mom probably hadn’t spoken two words to him all day.

  “Chase Watkins,” he said, gripping my dad’s hand in a tight handshake. My dad’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at the tight grip. I fought back a smile, secretly proud of Chase in that moment for holding his own.

  “Derek Sanders,” Dad replied. “Please, sit. Margaret should be down shortly.” He couldn’t even hide his distaste at the mention of my mother’s name. If anything, just saying it caused his jaw to tighten even more.

  We sat across from each other, which put Dad to my right at the head of the table. I sipped my water in an attempt to calm the churning in my stomach. Of course, Dad went immediately on the offensive.

  “So, tell me about yourself,” he said to Chase, his piercing stare never wavering.

  “I’m twenty-three,” Chase began, his voice strong and confident, “an Austin native. I graduated from Texas A&M with a Bachelor’s in Biology, with a minor in Chemistry last year. I recently transferred to UT and enrolled in the graduate program there.”

  Dad frowned. “Biology? What do you plan to do with that?”

  Chase shrugged. “I’m still weighing my options,” he replied without missing a beat. “I spent part of the summer studying endangered rainforest wildlife, which is something I’m very passionate about. I’d love to spend my time fighting to save those species, or even researching rainforest flora. The cures to many diseases and illnesses are buried in the wilds of the rainforest, they just need to be discovered and engineered.”

  “Passion …” Dad weighed the word as he accepted a glass of deep red wine from Sandra. He studied the contents of the glass, swirling it around. “Passion will only take you so far. It doesn’t always pay the bills, son.”

  My hands clenched beneath the table, my wide gaze snapping to my dad. “Dad!” I hissed.

  He ignored me, eyeing Chase over the rim of his wineglass. Chase leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him calmly. “Passion is more than enough when a man is fine with living modestly,” he retorted.

  Dad scoffed mockingly. “I see. Tell me, what do your parents do?”

  I could see annoyance creeping into Chase’s eyes. “My mother stayed home to take care of us when we were little, my brother and me,” he said slowly, his green eyes flashing in a silent challenge. “Before my father passed away a few years ago, he was a plumber.”

  I could see the disdain on my father’s face for Chase’s father, and so could Chase. His jaw tightened perceptibly as he turned his attention back to his own wineglass. I ignored mine, drinking the water instead. Chase took a heavy swallow and set the glass down a bit roughly.

  My dad remained unruffled. “With a biology degree, you could do so much more,” he remarked. “You could start a pharmaceutical company. Why not set your sights on a more ambitious goal?”

  Chase’s eyes narrowed, and his fingers clenched into a fist around his fork. “For me, life isn’t about how much money there is to be made, or how much status I can grab. Sometimes, the hardest, most important work to be done comes with a small paycheck. That doesn’t make it any less important than, say, investment banking.”

  Dad’s jaw ticked in annoyance at that—him being an investment banker and all, I’m sure that little blow aggravated him. “In your opinion,” he countered, going back to his wine.

  My mother chose that moment to enter the room. “Oh look, everyone’s here,” she slurred as she swept into the room, full martini glass in her hand. I fought the urge to groan out loud as she took the seat on Chase’s other side. “My, don’t you look handsome tonight.”

  He looked like one of those dweebs who works at Best Buy, but I didn’t say that out loud. I lowered my head over the bisque Sandra had served and forced myself to take a few bites. Conversation was strained after that, with only the occasional question being asked over soup, salads, and dinner. My dad finally seemed to notice I was in the room and asked about my classes. Mom peppered Chase with questions about biology and pretended she understood what he was talking about. By the time coffee and dessert was served, I had a pounding headache.

  “Miss Chloe, I put a splash of Bailey’s in your coffee, just the way you like it,” Sandra said with a smile as she sat it in front of me.

  “Oh,” I said, blinking at the coffee. It looked great and smelled heavenly, but of course I couldn’t drink it. “Actually, Sandra, would you mind taking this back and bringing me just regular coffee?”

  Mom’s eyebrows furrowed at she turned toward me, feigning concern. “No Bailey’s? Sweetie, are you okay?”

  I cleared my throat and exchanged glances with Chase from across the table. There was no avoiding it anymore. “Actually, Sandra, forget the coffee. Would you excuse us for a minute?”

  Sandra gave me an odd look, but nodded and left, taking the Bailey’s-spiked coffee with her. Once she was gone, I snuck a glance at my dad from the corner of my eye. His reaction was what I feared the most. I could always count on my mother to act like an aloof idiot; Dad was the one who was going to thunder and roar.

  “I brought Chase here because we have something important to tell you,” I began, measuring each word carefully before speaking.

  My mother gasped, her eyes widening and a broad smile stretching across her Botoxed face. “Oh my goodness! I knew it, you’re engaged!”

  My father’s hand tightened into a fist on the table. “You can’t marry this boy, he has no prospects, no money … not even a tight grip on reality.”

  Chase’s entire body tensed, but he remained silent.

  “No one is getting married,” I snapped, glaring at my father for his rude comment. Rich, Southern people were supposed to have manners, but my parents were breaking all kinds of stereotypes tonight.

  “You’ve got that right,” my dad muttered.

  “I’m pregnant, okay?” I blurted. “That’s what I wanted to tell you!”

  The stunned silence was expected. My father’s cool response was not. He turned his coal black stare on Chase.

  “You did this?”

  Chase raised his chin a notch. “I’m the father, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  D
ad nodded slowly, his lips pursed as he turned his gaze to me. My mother still hadn’t recovered from her shock and was gaping at me like a fish out of water. “How far along are you?” he asked, his tone surprisingly calm.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe we could get through this in a calm, rational manner. “A little over eleven weeks,” I answered.

  “Good,” he answered. “Sandra, would you come in here?” he bellowed.

  Sandra scurried in from the kitchen, her eyes wide as she tried to assess the situation. “Yes, Mr. Sanders?”

  “Would you go to my office and bring my checkbook, please?”

  “Of course, sir,” she said before rushing off to do his bidding.

  Before I could ask what the checkbook was for, he turned to me again. “Eleven weeks, that’s not very far along,” he said. His eyes slid down to my body at the snug dress I was wearing. “You aren’t even showing yet. It’s not too late.”

  Sandra re-entered, toting the large, leather-bound checkbook he kept in his office.

  “Too late for what?” I asked as he flipped the book open and slid a pen from the pocket inside.

  “An abortion, of course,” he said, as if I’d just asked him the stupidest question in the world. “This should cover it.” Tearing the check from the book, he handed it to me.

  I kept my hands in my lap, refusing to accept it. My dad’s face hardened with anger and agitation.

  “Chloe, you cannot mean to have this baby,” he said when he realized I wasn’t going to take the check.

  “Of course she isn’t!” my mother interjected. “She’s not stupid.”

  “Sometimes I wonder,” Dad muttered, setting the check down on the table between us. “Okay, is that the way you want it?” He glanced back and forth between me and Chase. “You two are stupid enough to get into this situation and now you think you can actually raise this child. Do you have a job, young man?”

  “Of course I do,” Chase answered. “I have a full-time job as a lab technician.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure the pay is just swell,” Dad scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Does that come with insurance, benefits? You’ve made it clear you aren’t going to marry my daughter, which means financial support is all you mean to offer, and even then we’re not talking about much here. And you,” he added, turning to me without missing a beat, “use your brain, for Christ sake. You are in no way capable of caring for a child. Hell, you’re barely able to take care of yourself. What, did you think I would foot the bill while you shacked up with some plumber’s kid and your little bastard baby?”

  “Okay, enough!” Chase’s booming voice echoed through the dining room as he shot to his feet. His hands were clenched into fists at his side and his chest was heaving with barely controlled range.

  He’d never been sexier to me.

  My dad stood to face him, but Chase wasn’t backing down.

  “You don’t talk to her that way,” he said, “ever. Now, we’ve decided to have this baby. We considered termination, but Chloe couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was a hard decision, and instead of coming down on her, you should be proud of her for doing what she thought was right.”

  “Chloe,” my mom beseeched me, her eyes wide, “think about what you’re doing here, what you’re throwing away. Not that many successful men will marry an unwed mother.”

  “Mom, shut up!” I huffed, my control finally snapping. “My entire life isn’t about getting a rich husband, and if a man doesn’t want me because I have a kid, then maybe I don’t want him either.”

  “Your life is about journalism and fashion,” Dad pointed out, still surprisingly calm, though I could tell he was getting angry. “Do you think this boy is going to stay home with your kid while you jet set off to Paris or Milan or wherever the hell else you want to go?”

  “We are still working on a plan,” I told him. “But we will have one.”

  Dad laughed sarcastically. “Your plan will mean nothing two years from now when you’re stuck at home, knee deep in diapers while he’s off doing God knows what.”

  “I plan to be there for Chloe,” Chase protested. “Which is more than I can say for either of you.”

  Mother gasped. “Chloe! Are you going to let him talk to us this way?”

  I smiled, standing and rounding the table toward Chase. “Damn right I am,” I said. “Mom, Dad, we’re having this baby, and quite frankly, I don’t care about your approval.”

  My dad shoved his hands down into his pockets and shrugged. “Then you don’t care about my money either. If you do this, I’m through with you. Do you understand? I’m cutting you off financially. You think you and this punk can make it on your own? Fine. You’ll do it without me supporting you.”

  I squared my shoulders and took Chase’s arm. “Fine by me,” I stated. “Come on, Chase, we’re leaving.”

  “Happily,” he agreed, turning to follow me.

  The boldness I felt kept me on a natural high all the way up the stairs where I promptly packed my suitcase. I was flying high all the way back down the stairs and to my car, where I slid behind the wheel and told Chase to get in. I wasn’t spending another minute under my parents’ roof, or listening to them bash him. The high lasted until we had had put Dallas behind us. It wasn’t until we’d been driving for about an hour that it finally hit me.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered, my hands flexing on the wheel.

  Chase, who’d put his T-shirt back on and ruffled his curls into their usual disorder, turned down the radio and watched me closely. “Chloe, are you okay?”

  “Oh my God,” I repeated. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see him grin, his teeth glistening in the light of the street lights racing by in the dark night. “I know,” he said with a chuckle. “That was awesome! The way you stood up for yourself … I gotta tell you, princess, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  Jerking the wheel to the right, I pulled off the road and onto the shoulder. Gripping the passenger door, Chase yelped. “Chloe, what the hell?”

  I threw the car into park and unbuckled my seatbelt, jumping out before I was violently ill all over the upholstery. Running toward the front of the car, I almost collapsed, putting a hand against the hood to steady myself.

  “Oh my God,” I said yet again. “What did I just do?”

  Chase left the car and quickly rounded it toward me. “What’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

  I glared up at him through the hair falling in my eyes and slammed my palms into his chest. “What the hell did I just do?” I screeched like a banshee. “Why did you let me do that?”

  Chase rubbed his sternum and frowned. “Do what?”

  “He disowned me!” I yelled, flailing my arms like a crazy person. “Do you know what that means?”

  He shrugged. “That you’ll have to get a job?”

  “Aaaargh!” I screamed my frustration, running my hands through my hair. “He was right!” I yelled. “Can’t you see that? My dad was right! We are not ready for this, Chase.”

  He came toward me, his hands steady and strong on my shoulders. “Okay, you’re freaking out, which is understandable. That, what just happened back there, was huge. We will come up with a plan, it will work, and everything will be fine.”

  “Oh come on!” I said, pushing away from him again. I started to pace, my heart racing as reality hit me over the head like a ton of bricks. “You can’t honestly be that naïve. You think this will work? We’ll turn Jenn’s old room into a nursery and everyone will chip in to babysit when we need it so I can finish school and you can get your masters, and we’ll all live happily ever after?”

  Chase ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe not that simple, but—”

  “And what about after that, Chase?” I interrupted. “When it’s time to move on after school, then what?”

  “I don’t know, Chloe.”

  “Exactly!” I bellowed, following it up with a laugh that bordered on th
e diabolically insane. “You don’t know. I don’t know! Nobody knows, because we’ve been deluding ourselves. I got all emotional over an ultrasound, but the truth is I have no desire to do this. I have no desire to carry a living thing for nine months, give birth to it, and then raise it!”

  “Then why didn’t you terminate?” Chase asked, exasperation edging his voice. “For God’s sake you had an appointment, you were on the damn table!”

  “Because I thought we could do this,” I said with a sigh. “I thought I could do this. Who are we kidding, Chase? In the end, one of us is going to get screwed. I have this baby, and one or both of us is stuck putting their dreams on hold—probably even permanently—to raise this kid. And the poor child has to live with being resented because mommy and daddy didn’t live the lives they’d planned for themselves. How are we going to provide for the baby? What are we going to do about things like insurance and a place to live? We don’t have shit, Chase. No plan, and now that my dad is disowning me, no money.”

  Silence stretched on between us as the car’s headlights cast their yellow glow into the darkness. Even through the shadows falling over his face, I could see that my words had hit home.

  “There’s a way,” he said suddenly, his eyes wide and coming up to meet mine. “There is a way that you can have this baby and everyone is happy. Blob gets taken care of, and we both get to live our lives the way we planned.”

  “Chase, I swear to God if you ask me to marry you and get on public assistance, I will run you over with my car.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I wasn’t going to ask you to marry me.”

  “Well, damn. You didn’t have to say it like that.”

  “Seriously, you’re mad about a non-existent marriage proposal? Focus, please.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m waiting for you to explain this mythical way that everyone comes out happy in this situation.”

  “Adoption.”

  I frowned. “Adoption? You want to give Blob away?”

  He sighed. “Of course not,” he said. “But think about it for a moment. We’re not giving Blob away, we’re giving him a chance at a good life, at two parents who can support him and give him everything we can’t.”