Falling for Jordan

by Liz Durano

  Like me, Campbell’s known Rachel for years. Along with Caitlin, the four of us grew up together and had more adventures than we could remember. We rode our bikes around the neighborhood and even did homework together. We all played video games whenever our parents had dinner at the house. Rachel’s dad, Russ, has been Dad’s right-hand man at O’Halloran Builders since we were kids. When Rachel and I started dating toward the end of senior year, Campbell was the third wheel until he went off to study business at the University of Pennsylvania. While working for my dad, I earned my Associates degree at Queens College while Rachel studied business management and then later, took some advanced management classes through NYU. Just before we split up, she’d been working for a dermatologist in Brooklyn. She must have changed jobs while I was out of the country.

  “What did she say?”

  “That you cheated on her and you have a kid. Said it looks like you,” Campbell says, suddenly serious. “Is it true?”

  “I didn’t cheat on her and you should know that,” I reply. “As for the kid, it’s a she. Her name is Piper.”

  “And who’s the baby mama? Why don’t know anything about this?” Campbell asks.

  “Because I just found out about it. And her name is Addison.” I lean back, exhaling. Hell, I’m still in shock as it is.

  “How long did you know this Addison woman?”

  “One night,” I reply.

  “So what are you gonna do?”

  “If she’s my kid, then I take responsibility,” I reply, taking another swig of beer. “But she’s definitely mine.”

  Campbell raises an eyebrow. “Newsflash, man. Normally, most men would not admit the kid’s theirs right off the bat.”

  “That’s why we did the paternity DNA test even if it’s not really necessary,” I reply, taking my phone and pulling up one of the photos Addison sent me. I slide it toward him. “There. Now you tell me.”

  “Whoa! That looks just like Cait in her baby pictures. You, too. Only prettier.” Campbell slides the phone back to me. “So what does this girl do?”

  “She’s a doctor. A nephrologist.”

  Campbell whistles. “How the hell did you end up with a fucking doctor, man? You lucky dog!” I toss a French fry at him and he laughs, raising his hands to protect himself. “Alright, alright. So, you like her or what? Rachel sounded pissed. She asked me if I knew anything about you and Addison. Wanted to know if this new girl’s the reason you broke up with her after five years together.”

  I scoff. “I broke up with her three months before I met Addison, so no, I didn’t cheat on her.”

  “Three months, three weeks… it won’t matter to Rachel. You know that, right? Even when you weren’t cheating on her, she was always convinced you were. All a woman had to do was look at you sideways and she’d think you were sleeping around.”

  “So what did you tell her?”

  Campbell shrugs. “That I had no idea what she was talking about. Not that it would have made a difference if I knew or not, you know I’m not going to say anything. She accused me of protecting your ass anyway, saying us guys protect their own, that kind of thing. But in the end, whether I knew the deal or not, it’s no one’s business but yours and this Addison chick.”

  “Damn straight,” I mutter. “You and I know I didn’t cheat on Rachel. I just got tired of her pressuring me to marry her every chance she got.” Toward the last six months we were together, there was always a hint. If it didn’t come from her, it came from her family and her friends. Even Mom finally asked me to make a decision instead of making the poor girl wait. Rachel had the dress picked out.

  “Damn. I didn’t know that,” Campbell says. “But what can I say, man? If she isn’t the one, she isn’t the one… even if you’ve known her forever. Sometimes it takes awhile to figure that shit out, you know?”

  In my case, five years.

  “What are you gonna do now?” Campbell continues. “Oh, and my mom knows, too. I guess after Rachel told your mom, she called my mom to see if she knew and then Mom called me to ask me if I knew. I mean, this is big news, man.”

  I just wish I’d had enough time to process it first without the whole world imploding in less than an hour. “Why don’t we stop talking and start eating?” I ask, needing to change the subject. I’m also hungry.

  Fifteen minutes later, I signal for the check, reaching for my wallet just as Campbell pulls out his credit card.

  “I got this, Jory. Business lunch.”

  “Yeah, right,” I say, resting my wallet on the table before me. It looks pretty beat up after a year of traveling.

  “Hey, you’ve been gone a year, alright? So let me get this,” Campbell says as the server arrives with the check and he hands her his credit card. “Besides, you’re gonna need it for diapers. I hear babies use a shit load of them.”

  Chapter Five

  After my morning with Jordan, my parents call to ask if they can come over a day early. They usually spend the weekend to dote on their granddaughter while I run errands, but Ma is a godmother to one of my cousins who's getting confirmed on Sunday morning, so they've asked to come by on Friday afternoon instead. With Marcia having the weekend off, my parents' presence enlivens my otherwise too-serious apartment. And as she always does despite my telling her she doesn't have to, Ma brings along containers of food she precooked during the week, individual servings of pancit bihon, a dish made of transparent noodles, adobong manok, chicken cooked in vinegar, soy sauce, and garlic; and pinakbet, a one-pot vegetable dish with okra, green beans, eggplant and bitter melon.

  She arranges them in neat stacks in the freezer before taking Piper in her arms and talking to her in Visayan, her local dialect. I understand a few words here and there but that's about it. Dad knows even less, although saying I love you in her dialect is enough to make her swoon.

  They met indirectly through letters. The way Ma tells the story, she had a friend in college, Stella, who'd signed up for a pen pal exchange and got Dad's name, Robert Harrison Rowe. She thought he was cute. Blond hair with blue eyes, she told my mother that she would make beautiful babies with such a man. With more women than men in the queue, Dad ended up with more pen pals than he could manage and so he ended up typing a form letter, requesting that the women send a hand-written letter (to make sure that they were literate) and a photo. When Stella didn't send a photo with her letter, Dad sent her another form letter saying he wanted a picture or he wasn't corresponding any further. And so Stella sneakily sent Ma's picture instead of hers—and Dad fell in love.

  For six months, Dad thought he was corresponding with someone who looked like my mother. When he finally called her long distance, she fessed up and introduced Ma to him over the phone. Ma had no idea what was going on but when Dad asked her if he could call her again, Ma surprised herself and said yes. Dad flew to the Philippines six months later and married her in a courthouse before filing all the immigration paperwork. It took another year of red tape before Ma finally joined him in Forest Hills and two years and two miscarriages later, I was born. A complication during the delivery left her unable to have any more children, which made me their only child.

  “Hey, Peanut, we just set up the sofa bed and your Ma had me set the bassinet out there for the night. Got time to chat?” Dad says as he pokes his head through the door of my bedroom. Ma is sitting in the living room watching one of her favorite reality TV shows, waiting for me to finish nursing Piper.

  “Sure, about what?” I ask, taking a picture of Piper with my phone as she sleeps. Dad shakes his head and mutters something about kids and their selfies these days. Next to me is my laptop and file folders filled with research results that Harlow sent me. I don't really need to work on them but they keep my mind sharp. I also get to pretend that behind all the breast milk stains and under-eye circles, I'm still a doctor.

  “How are you doing?” Dad asks.

  “I’m doing great,” I reply, feeling the mattress shift as Dad sits on the edge of the
bed.

  “What's this I hear you're back to seeing patients already?” He frowns. “You need money?”

  I hate talking about money. “Of course not.”

  “Is the hospital short of doctors? Does it have to do with operating expenses?”

  “Dad, everything's covered. I've got fellow physicians covering my patients three days a week. The employees are happy; they're getting paid and have good insurance and everything is running smoothly.”

  “Is Dr. James still not back?”

  “She had twins, Dad... and she moved to New Mexico. She is planning on coming back when they’re a year old.”

  “Which is any day now,” he says.

  “I know I told you I was going to be on maternity leave for about twelve weeks but I decided to go in a few weeks early. It's just a few hours a day and I'm just really reviewing patient files.”

  I know I'm beating around the bush but what can I tell him? Should I tell him that I was going crazy taking care of Piper all by myself? Or that even with the most beautiful baby in the world and a nanny who came in twice a week, I still felt completely alone… and unwanted? Should I tell him that the postpartum blues hit me harder than I thought and unable to find my daughter’s father, I’d sunk into a deep depression that I simply needed to get out of the house?

  “Peanut, if you need any help…”

  “Dad, it’s not what you think. I’m fine. Really.” I touch his forearm and smile my best reassuring smile. With his salt and pepper hair, he’s the handsomest man I know. Ma’s friends always tell me I inherited Dad’s fair skin compared to Ma’s dusky complexion and they’re right. No one can tell that I’m half-Filipino, not that it mattered growing up in Queens. But for Ma it was a different story. Unless we were with Dad, people always assumed she was my nanny.

  “Are you still in contact with that mom’s group?”

  I make a face. I’d joined a local moms’ group that met in Chelsea twice a month, only to panic after I mentioned my decision to be a single mother by choice during the introductions. Suddenly the questions came one after another. As a successful doctor, how was I managing being a single parent? Did I know the father personally? What made me come to that decision? What was I going to tell my daughter when she’d ask about her father? It wasn’t like I was the only parent there who’d made such a decision but I felt like such a fraud, imagining my nose growing longer with each lie I made. As it was, I’d dug a deep enough hole at the hospital and the office the moment I announced my decision to have a baby via sperm donor and here I was, digging an even deeper hole with a moms group. I still lurked in online discussions but I’d stopped doing the face-to-face gatherings.

  “I’ve held off until she’s a bit older,” I reply in a small voice, kissing Piper on the forehead.

  “Anyway, I was thinking that maybe you could move back home for awhile,” Dad continues. “That way, you won't get overwhelmed taking care of Piper all on your own. You won't have a shortage of help.”

  Or any privacy, I almost add but I keep this to myself.

  “I hate knowing you're by yourself when you could be around family,” he adds. “And honestly, you don't have to be paying Marcia–”

  “Ma asked you to talk to me, didn’t she?”

  Dad shakes his head. “No, this is all me, Peanut. Granted, your mother would like nothing more than for you to move back into your old room and have the extra room as Piper’s nursery. But selfishly, I do, too, if only to see you happy again.”

  “But I am happy, Dad.”

  He sighs. “But you’re alone. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. But it’s actually possible for someone to be alone and not feel lonely.”

  He chuckles. “You don’t really buy that, do you? Anyway, I just wish you had someone, you know, to keep you company. Be there for you. Love you.”

  I eye him suspiciously. “And I’m sure you’d like him to be a doctor, right? Or an accountant like Kevin?”

  “As long as he loves you and treats you well, I’m fine with whatever he does. Your mother, however, may still be holding out for a particular accountant.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh, Dad, I know Kevin and I were a cute couple, and Ma and her friends couldn’t get enough of us since we were kids. But cute doesn’t last forever. I wanted something more.”

  Like rough and rugged Jordan O’Halloran…

  He pats my hand. “I understand, Peanut.”

  Next to me, my phone beeps, notifying me of an incoming message. In the living room, I hear Ma get up and call for her Pie-pie, her nickname for Piper.

  “And stop calling me Peanut, Dad. It’s getting embarrassing.”

  “That’s only because I love you… Peanut,” he says, chuckling as I pass Piper to him.

  “Deedee, why didn’t you tell him you were finished nursing Pie-pie?” Ma asks the moment she enters the room, her face brightening up when she sees Piper. “There’s my little baby-boo-boo!”

  “Because I just finished. Just now,” I reply, which is an outright lie as I make a face at Dad who presses his index finger to his lips.

  “We’ll be in the living room, Peanut,” Dad says as he hands Piper to my mother and shuts the door behind them. My phone buzzes again and I glance at the display, my heart skipping a beat when I see Jordan’s name.

  Jordan: Got time to talk?

  Addison: Sure.

  Jordan: Just wanted to see if you're still up. How are you feeling?

  Addison: I'm okay. Better now that we got the test done. You?

  Jordan: I'm feeling good, too. How is Piper?

  Addison: She was asleep on my boob earlier.

  Before I can stop myself, I tap SEND and groan, burying my face in my hand. Asleep on my boob? Did that word really need to be in there? I see my hands shaking and I lower my phone on my lap. Addison Rowe, you are a transplant physician who should know better than to tell some guy you had a one-night stand with that your baby was asleep on your boob, of all places!

  Jordan: Can you send a picture? Of Piper, not your boob, not that there's anything wrong with that. Your boob, I mean.

  I giggle.

  Jordan: That didn't come out well. I'd love to see a picture of her.

  Addison: Don't stress. I knew what you meant.

  I scroll through the day's pictures and find one of Piper in her infant rocker gurgling at the camera. I choose a photo and a short video and send them to Jordan.

  Addison: Here you go.

  Jordan: She looks beautiful and happy. She'll be a heartbreaker.

  Addison: Just like her daddy.

  I lower my face in my hand again, groaning. Oh, great. Now why did I have to say that? Am I seriously flirting with him? But of course, I am.

  Jordan: Just like her mommy.

  I stare at his words for a few moments. Why does it feel like I'm back in high school and the prom king just paid me a compliment? I feel myself blushing, memories of our time together coming back to me, from the way he kissed me to the way his hands held me, his fingers finding the right places to make me come. His tongue and his mouth. I shouldn't be thinking such things, not when my parents are in the next room with my baby.

  Our baby.

  I place the phone face down on the bed and stare at it for a few moments. I don't need to know what the results will say on Monday, but what the hell do I tell everyone? That I lied all this time?

  In the living room, I can hear Ma and Dad talking quietly and the familiar feeling of guilt settles again. Before telling the world that I got pregnant via a sperm donor, I never lied to my parents. I had no reason to; I told them everything. After all, I led a boring life. I wanted to be the first doctor in the family, a dream my mother had to give up when she joined Dad in New York, only to discover that medical school was too expensive on Dad’s salary as a bus driver. So she ended up working as a medical receptionist and coder for a family practice in Jackson Heights. After I was born, she worked from home doing medical billin
g for several doctors, earning a commission from whatever amount she was able to collect. It wasn’t much, and whatever she earned she invested in after-school tutoring for me. Sometimes, she cleaned houses through an agency.

  I was ten when Dad got a job driving a service car for a Manhattan real estate developer. The hours were crazy but the pay was good and Ma didn’t have to work anymore. With his new salary, Dad was able to save up enough money to pay for my college education. He even covered the first two years of medical school until I applied for a loan, insisting on paying my way so he could save up for retirement. He’s worked for as long as I remember and as he nears 63, I want him to retire and enjoy life. Maybe travel and see the world with Ma.

  My phone buzzes again.

  Jordan: Just saying good night.

  I stare at his text for a few moments. Why on earth are we texting? I tap his phone number, my heart pounding as I listen to the sound of the phone ringing. What are you doing, Addy? What if he doesn't want to talk to you? Isn't that why he's texting?

  “Hey there,” he answers, his voice deep and soft. It sends the butterflies in my belly into overdrive.

  “I just wanted to say good night, too. But I wanted to hear your voice.”

  “And I’m glad you called,” he says. “I like hearing your voice, Addy.”

  I can’t help but feel giddy hearing his words, the memories of our one-night stand coming back to me. I’d been a wild woman that first night, totally not myself and confident I’d never see him again.

  I clear my throat, forcing myself to be serious. “So how'd it go?”

  “How’d what go?” he asks as I get up from the bed and take a peek outside. Ma is sitting on the recliner holding Piper in her arms. She's singing one of her favorite songs, Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On, while Dad is in the kitchen boiling water for tea. I close the door and lie down on the bed.