by Claire Adams
She started to laugh. “Wait—are you saying that you deserve some sort of medal or something? Some man of the year award, because you ended things with me when they started to get real? Holy shit, Ian, you’re stupid.”
“Watch yourself,” I said.
“Well, you are if that’s what you think. Listen, Ian. I wasn’t planning to get pregnant. I’m pretty good about taking my pills every morning. I may have missed a day or two here and there, but this is the first time this has ever happened to me.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you because I want you to know this wasn’t something I planned. But it’s happening, and I’m not going to get an abortion. I’m actually very pro-choice, but I just can’t do it.”
“You can, though. That’s what the service is there for. For unplanned pregnancies, especially when the mother is nowhere near ready to actually become a mother.”
“I am, though. And I was hoping you’d say that you wanted to step up and be a father, too. That we could do this together.”
I swear my blood pressure just shot up fifty points. “Listen, Annie,” I said. “This isn’t some fucking Lifetime movie where everything ends happily ever after. You don’t get to call up and announce this pregnancy and have me suddenly realize that I’ve been in love with you all along and that we should really be together. That’s not how it works. Or at least not in this case.”
“I wasn’t expecting that. It’d be nice, of course, but I wasn’t expecting it. No, what I was hoping, Ian, was that you would realize you were at least willing to give it a shot. I don’t think that’s asking too much, considering there’s going to be a whole new life entering the equation in nine months.” I cringed. “I was hoping that you’d realize that you could actually settle down and just be with one person, and that maybe you and I—and our child—could have a really nice life together. We already know we’re sexually compatible, and that’s a big part.”
Why had I answered the fucking phone? I stood up, so quickly that my chair almost toppled over.
“That is not going to happen,” I said. “And honestly, Annie, from the sounds of it, I’m starting to suspect that you got pregnant on purpose. That you conveniently forgot to take your pills, not just for a day or two, but probably more like a week or two. Or maybe a whole month.”
“That’s not true,” she said stiffly.
“Yeah, sure.”
The longer I had to think about it, the more I realized that that’s probably exactly what happened. I could picture her, standing in the bathroom, pushing the little pills out, dropping them, one by one, down the drain. Then having me fuck her six ways from Sunday. Women were always going on and on about how the world was sexist and they didn’t get a fair shake, but they had this power they could use whenever they wanted. They could be deceitful and manipulative and trap men by claiming to be on birth control when they weren’t. Fuck!
“Fine,” I said. “I obviously can’t make you have an abortion. But listen to me now and listen good—I am not getting together with you. Notice I didn’t say back together, because we would have had to be together in the first place. You and I are not going to have some happy little family. You can go ahead and have a kid if you want. Ruin your life. Have fun with that.”
“You’re such an asshole,” she said, and she sniffled, and she was probably crying. “This kid will be yours, too.”
“Yeah, well, I want a paternity test when it’s born. How the fuck do I know you weren’t out banging half of Boston?”
“I wasn’t. You were the only one I was with.”
“Go ahead and do what you want. I don’t even know why you called me to begin with when it’s clear that you’ve already made up your mind. I’m telling you, though, I don’t want to have a kid right now, and I certainly don’t want to have a kid with you. So if you want to go ahead and become a single mother, then by all means.”
“You don’t want anything to do with this baby? Really, Ian? Well, you’re at least going to have to pay child support. You’re right, I won’t be going on welfare or moving back with my parents—you’ll be paying child support, and don’t think for a second—”
I threw the phone across the room, where thankfully, it shattered, ending the call. I didn’t know how long I stood there for, trying to take deep breaths, waiting to wake up because surely this was just a horrible fucking nightmare, but after a few minutes, I realized that wasn’t going to happen. My phone was still smashed on the ground, the cereal I’d been eating was a soggy mess in milk. I’d been feeling so good that morning when I woke up, eager to get to work to see Daisy, and now suddenly that had all been completely obliterated.
God fucking dammit.
I was not in a good mood when I got into the office, and even Daisy’s smiling face didn’t do much to improve it.
“Good morning,” she said, and I tried to return her smile, though it probably came out closer to a grimace.
“Hi there.” Jonathan, of course, was right there, next to her desk; they’d been talking about something when I walked in but had stopped when they saw me. “I’ve got some business to take care of this morning.”
I strode on past them and into my office, closing the door behind me. I hadn’t shut the door since Daisy’s first day when I’d been changing my coffee-stained pants; I needed it shut right now, though. With it shut, my office turned into a controlled environment, almost a cocoon of sorts, and as I sat down in my chair and placed my hands on my desk, I felt a sliver of stress slide away. Only a sliver, but I’d take it.
The feeling that wasn’t going anywhere was the fact that Annie had trapped me.
I wasn’t sure exactly how much time had elapsed when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened slowly and Daisy peeked her head around. “Are you busy?”
“No, come in,” I repeated. She stepped in and closed the door behind her, though she didn’t push it all the way shut.
“I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay,” she said. “You’ve been in here all morning.”
“It is my office. I do have work to do,” I said. But I was touched, actually, that she’d come to check up on me. Which was strange, because if Annie had done the same thing, I would’ve found it completely annoying, overly cloying, kind of pathetic. I smiled. “There’s just some stuff I’ve had to take care of. How’s it going out there?”
“It’s good. Jonathan had to take some stuff to the post office and then was going to meet up with Dan at the civic center, but he said to tell you he’ll be back late afternoon. There was something he wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. He didn’t tell me what it was though.”
“All right. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Sure.” She put her hand on the doorknob and started to pull the door open but then stopped. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You seem a little . . . I don’t know, stressed, maybe.”
She stood there, today wearing a slightly shorter, more form-fitting gray skirt, with a white short-sleeve blouse, the top button undone. There was nothing more I would have rather done at that moment than told her exactly what had happened on the phone with Annie, but that wasn’t the sort of news you shared with the woman you were planning to sleep with next. Was that even a good idea at this point? Maybe taking the path of celibacy would be better for right now.
But no. I’d have to fire her if that was going to be the case, because there was no way I’d be able to have her around like this and not get with her. It was like I could feel it radiating off of her skin, this intense desire that she probably didn’t even know she had. What was it Jonathan had said when he was trying to get me to give her an interview? She’s a freak in bed. She probably was a freak in bed. I’d be the one to bring it out in her.
“Yeah, you know, things can get a little stressful at times,” I said. “
But that’s just how it goes. I try not to let it get me down.”
“Of course,” she said. “Well . . . if there’s anything that I can do to help, so you’re not so stressed, just let me know.”
The innuendo was there, but she didn’t realize it. I tried to hide my smile. I probably shouldn’t even go there at this point—my dick had gotten me into enough trouble—but there was just something about her that was completely irresistible.
“You’ve already helped, actually. Thanks.”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
I wanted to get up from my desk, push the door shut all the way, and tear open her blouse, the little iridescent buttons popping off, one by one. I’d lay her across my desk and squeeze her ass a few times before—
No.
Not just yet.
“I appreciate it anyway,” I said. And then the phone started to ring, and Daisy excused herself to go answer it.
At the end of the day, I could tell that Daisy was lingering, thinking that we might hang out, but after I went and saw Pete, I wanted to have some alone time, and if I wasn’t going to suggest we get together, I knew she wouldn’t say anything.
“All right,” she said, slinging her handbag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Bye, Daisy,” Jonathan said. “Here, let me walk you out.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” she said, but he followed her down the hallway like a loyal dog. When he returned, he was looking at me with hopeful eyes. Christ, he was such a fucking Boy Scout. He certainly wouldn’t have gotten a girl pregnant. He’d never find himself in a situation like this. I felt a flare of anger for him, for the fact that his life had always been so fucking easy, yet he didn’t even have the slightest clue.
“So . . .” he said. “How’s it going with Daisy? Did you have a chance to talk to her?”
“Yeah,” I said. I’d draw this out for a little while.
Those hopeful eyes brightened. “You did? What’d she say? How’d it go?”
“It went all right.”
“It did? What did you say to her? Really, more importantly, what did she say to you?”
A whole lot of shit you don’t want to know. I took a deep breath.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, man,” I said (or more accurately, deflate your dick), “but I just don’t think she’s ready for that sort of thing right now.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together and nodded slowly. “That makes sense,” he said, frowning. “That’s kind of the impression I was getting from her. I guess I really should learn to trust my instincts more.”
“Absolutely. Don’t take it too hard, man. There’s plenty of other girls out there, you know.”
“I know.” He looked disappointed. “It’s just . . . I really liked her.”
“That’s understandable,” I said, nodding sympathetically, “she’s a good person. But then again, so are you. So you’re bound to find someone that will be a good match. I just know it.”
And the thing was, he would. He might not realize it at the moment, but I sure as hell did. Things just always worked out for Jonathan, one way or another.
Not that you’d know it with that forlorn expression he had on his face at the moment, like he’d just walked in on me drowning his favorite puppy or something. Come on, dude, I thought. You are worse than a lovestruck teenage girl! I went over and clapped him on the shoulder, gave him my best expression of brotherly solidarity.
“Did she seem really . . . traumatized?” he asked.
“What—about the idea of you be interested in her?”
“No! You didn’t tell her that, did you?”
“I didn’t.”
“No, I meant by the whole thing with her stalker. Do you think that has made it so she’s never going to want to get involved with anyone ever again?”
“It’s hard to say. I did find out one thing, though . . .” I paused, letting the tension draw out. Jonathan looked at me hopefully. “She’s a virgin. Which doesn’t really coalesce with the notion that she's a freak in bed, now, does it? Remember how you told me that?”
“Yeah,” he said, his face reddening. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t know if she was, or that she was a virgin. I just thought if I told you that, you might be more apt to hire her, you know . . . since the whole thing with Annie and all.” He looked down at his shoes. “But I’m really sorry, man. That wasn’t cool for me to make shit up like that.”
“It wasn’t,” I said, cringing inwardly at the mention of Annie’s name. I’d managed to forget about her for a whole five minutes, and that had felt fucking wonderful, believe me. Why couldn’t Jonathan have a crush on Annie? Why couldn’t he be interested in her? He was the type of guy who would certainly step up and raise another man’s kid if said child was the offspring of the woman he adored.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to run; don’t want to be late seeing Pete.”
“Sure,” Jonathan said. He gave me a closer look. “It surprises me sometimes that you still go see him like this.”
“Does it?”
“Well . . . yeah. He was so awful to you. But I think that says a lot about you, that not only have you been able to forgive him and move past it, but you’re willing to go see him every week. I know some people whose parents ended up in a nursing home and they never go see them, and they’re not even on bad terms. So, yeah.” Jonathan nodded, smiling. “I think that’s pretty cool that you’re able to do that. And hey, thanks for talking to Daisy for me. I know it was kind of lame that I couldn’t just handle it myself, but . . .” He let the sentence die off. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t even mention it, man,” I said. I held my hand out and we slapped fives, and then I was off to go visit Pete.
This time, when I got to Eagle Hollow and parked, I looked up at the window and saw Pete parked there in his wheelchair, staring straight at me. For the briefest of moments, I experienced this strange longing to trade places with Pete; to be the one living in some facility, all of my needs taken care of, nothing to do all day but stare out a window, or better yet, stare at the nurses’ asses and down their shirts when they delivered the meal trays. Sure, I might not be able to speak, and I’d probably be shitting in a bed pan, but I at least wouldn’t have to deal with this whole problem that Annie had just brought to my attention. Of course, I snapped myself out of that reverie quickly; no fucking way did I want to be like Pete. I raised a hand and waved, then started to walk toward the building, running my hand over the Camaro’s hood as I went past. Inside, it was the same routine as it always was: there was Wendy, big smile on her face, giving me the hungry bedroom eyes.
“Whatever you said to Pete really seemed to help,” she said. “He seemed must less agitated after you left.”
“That’s great,” I replied, wondering if she was just telling me this because she thought it was what I wanted to hear, or because it was actually true. It seemed a little odd that he would find comfort in what I had said to him; I preferred to think that he had finally just given up. “I’ll do my best to continue to bolster his spirits,” I said.
Wendy gave my arm a squeeze before she left me at Pete’s door.
I went inside and walked over to the window. “Hi there,” I said. “It’s your favorite stepson.”
I pulled one of the chairs over and sat down, rubbed my hand across my eyes. Pete was wearing a red plaid bathrobe I’d never seen before.
“New threads?” I said.
He glared at me.
“I’ve had quite the day,” I said. “You know, Jonathan thinks that I’m commendable because I’ve somehow found a way to move past all the horrible shit you used to do to me,” I said. “That’s funny, isn’t it? Everyone thinks I come here because I actually give a shit about what happens to you, which really couldn’t be further from the truth. I know that seems heartless, and probably makes me sound like some sort of sociopath or something, but it’s the truth. Although, Jonathan and I wouldn’t even be fri
ends, I bet, if it wasn’t for you.”
Pete’s eyes shifted, left to right, then fixed at a point behind my shoulder. “That’s right,” I continued, “all because of you. They were basically my other family because all you seemed to want to do when I was around was to talk shit and kick my ass. Which must’ve been fun for you; I can’t figure out another reason why you would’ve done it. I wouldn’t have been one of those dickhead stepsons, I wouldn’t have tried to flex on you or anything like that, but you couldn’t have been bothered to even give me that chance. Would you like to know what my childhood memories are made up of? They mainly consist of living in fear that you were about to come home or spending my time at Jonathan’s, where everything was so fucking perfect it would’ve made your teeth hurt. Their family ate dinner together every fucking night. Sat down and ate an actual meal that his mom OR his dad made. They took Sunday drives. Jonathan had probably every single toy he ever wanted, and then a bunch that he didn’t want, too. And he didn’t have to hide these toys because he was afraid that they were going to stomped on because his father was mad at him, or just came home from work in a bad mood. He didn’t even know how good he had it.
“In other exciting news,” I said, “I found out that you’re potentially going to be a grandfather. Well, a step-grandfather, I guess would be the correct definition.” I stared at him as I said this; his reaction didn’t seem any different than with anything else I’d told him. He probably thought I was making it up. “While it’d be nice to say I was making this all up, I’m not. Trust me, I wish it wasn’t the case.”
Pete’s eyes went from looking out the window to looking at me. He made a sound that sort of sounded like a cat trying to hack up a hairball. The corner of his mouth twitched. Though his facial expression hadn’t changed that much, I knew suddenly that he was thrilled to see me uncomfortable, happy that I had found myself in such a position.
