“Eh…it’s a job,” she said, as we all ambled towards the kitchen. “I’m hoping to meet an eligible bachelor at this place. That’s what I’m counting on. Some rich dude who enjoys jazz, going out, blah-blah-blah, and is looking for the love of his life.”
“Oh, Jackie, don’t get into another shitty relationship,” Claire said, starting to help Sophie with the quesadillas.
“Yeah, that last guy was a real winner, girl,” Lara added. “Next time you pick a guy, make sure he has some integrity.”
“Please,” I interrupted. “Let’s not open up the wounds. He’s history and Jackie’s moving on.”
“That’s right,” Sophie resounded.
“Yeah,” Claire said. “But next time definitely find someone with a little more integrity.”
“And someone with a bigger you-know-what,” Jackie said, licking a large dollop of guacamole from her finger. She swirled her tongue playfully around it while doing a voluptuous dance with her hips.
“Oh, gross,” Sophie said. “Gross. Gross.”
“Hey, it’s Bloody Mary time,” Lara said. She started to gather the necessary ingredients.
“Wait a minute,” Claire said. “We’re going Mexican. Why didn’t we do margaritas?”
Lara: “Marys are easier.”
Jackie: “Yeah, and just as good!”
Sophie: “They get the same job done.”
“Well we’re not out to get drunk, girls,” Claire said. “We do have to work tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jackie said. “Some even have to work tonight, but that ain’t stoppin’ me!”
We started giggling, like we were all back in college and getting hyped up over some fraternity party that would end up being just as lame as the one the week before. But it didn’t matter so long as we had one another’s company. And some giggling. And a little buzz was always fun—for those who could still get one.
“Here you go,” Lara said, handing me a cocktail. Suddenly the aroma of the tomato juice was so overpowering I felt an instant urge to vomit. I tried my best to suppress it, but to no avail. I rushed to the kitchen sink, shoving Sophie out of the way, and hurled.
“Damn, does it look that bad?” Lara kidded.
Sophie rubbed my back and handed me a paper towel. “Girls, Robin’s—”
I waved the paper towel behind me, flushing my mouth with water. I did not want all of the girls to find out I was pregnant while I was bent over the kitchen sink spewing forth bits and pieces of my midday snack.
“I’m fine,” I shouted, patting down my mouth and face. “Was feeling a bit woozy at work today, but I’m fine. I think the smell of all of that Tabasco sauce tipped me off or something. No worries.”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re okay…” Lara said.
“Positive.” I put on my best fake smile and encouraged everyone to get the fun started.
Lara brought over the documentary film Babies, which I thought was about as ironic as it got. She figured it was a relaxing film we could have on in the background since she’d heard it was pretty much a silent film. We didn’t even get past the DVD’s menu when I decided it was time to share the real reason behind why I called a sudden and urgent girls’ night.
“Come on, the movie’s supposed to be great,” Lara said, motioning to press play.
“No, I’m sure it’s great,” I said. “I want to tell you all something before, though.”
The room fell silent save for the munches and crunches of tortilla chips smothered in guacamole and salsa.
“Oh my goodness!” Claire said loudly. “You got that promotion you’ve been wanting at work? That…that…that PM position? Huh?”
I sighed. No, no promotion. And no, no pay raise yet, either.
“I won’t know about that until the spring or something,” I said dismissively. “And it’s not even a sure thing—if we’ll even get the client or—”
“The raise!” Claire exclaimed. “That’s coming up, right? Did you get that?”
I shook my head.
“Well what is it?” Jackie asked.
“Yeah, why the sudden command of the room, girl?” Lara asked. “Found a love interest or something juicy?”
“Oooo,” Claire cooed. “Is that it? Met someone?”
“That’s it!” Jackie stated. “That’s definitely it. Robin found herself a new piece of meat.”
“Is he hot?”
“Where’d you meet him?”
“Have you shagged yet?”
“What’s his name?”
“Is he a lot older than you? Older guys can be really great lovers.”
“Come on, who is it? Is it serious?”
I looked to Sophie, tuning out the drones of questions and exclamations. She gave me a sympathetic look and then a short nod of her head. It was time to spill it.
“I’m pregnant,” I said without warning.
Silence.
Not even a single chip was munched.
“You’re kidding,” Jackie finally said. “You. Are. Kidding.”
“No, I’m serious,” I said. “It’s all very real and it’s all happening.”
“Is this new guy the baby’s dad?” Jackie asked.
“Jackie, there is no new guy.” I was tired of even considering a new romantic interest in my life.
“Then it’s…” Lara said.
“Yeah, it’s Brandon’s.”
And more silence.
Thankfully Sophie broke in. “We’ve been trying to tell him. We tried calling him but he didn’t answer. He still hasn’t answered, right?” I shook my head. “Typical piece of shit,” Sophie said colorfully.
“How long have you known, Robin? Sophie?” Lara asked, still shocked. Her face was long, her eyes wide.
I told the girls everything I knew and everything that had happened up until that point. It was certainly no secret that I’d done the unthinkable and slipped up with Sophie’s boyfriend at the time. It had been inconceivable up until a couple of days ago that I was actually pregnant with his baby.
“No,” Lara interjected at one point, when we were discussing how I’d go about getting a hold of Brandon. “It’s not his baby. It’s your baby, Robin. You can tell him that you’re pregnant, you can work out whatever financial deals you want to, but this is your baby. Ultimately it is your child and if you don’t want him in your life—”
“Yeah and he won’t want to be in your life,” Jackie added. She didn’t mean to sound hurtful—bad choice of words.
“Well—” I started.
“It’s your baby and you’re going to make the decisions for you and your baby. No one else. You don’t need him,” Lara said fervently.
“I want to give him the chance,” I said timidly. “At least see what he has to say…” I looked to Sophie for help in convincing the suddenly enraged girls that telling Brandon of the news, and maybe even having him play some form of a role in the baby’s life, wasn’t such a wretched idea. He was the father, after all.
Sophie came to my rescue. “Girls, she’s going to tell him. She has to.”
A few objections, to which Sophie replied, “Look, if I of all people can look beyond the shallow reasons for not wanting Brandon to have anything to do with any of this, then we all can. Right?” She gave me an effusive look.
The girls nodded collectively. Lara came towards me and enveloped me in a hug. “No matter what happens, we’re going to help you through this,” she said.
Everyone nodded and piped in with, “Definitely!” and “Absolutely!” and “Duh!”
I looked from Sophie, who was smiling sweetly, to Lara, who had tears forming, to Claire, who was hugging her knees to her chest and glowing, as if she herself were pregnant, and then to Jackie, who was taking a gulp of her Bloody Mary. She smacked her lips. “Girl—” She took another gulp. “You bet your ass we’re here for you. But boy am I glad I can drink. That part’s going to suck for you.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I haven’t even managed my caffein
e withdrawal yet. I don’t even want to think about kissing my cocktails goodbye for the next seven months.”
“Uh,” Sophie interrupted, snagging two double-chocolate cookies from the tray nearby. “Try seven months plus breastfeeding time.” She handed me one of the cookies as I let out a stiff moan and the girls howled in laughter. “Just eat the cookies and don’t think about what you can’t have,” she said, giving me a wink.
“That’s right,” Lara said. “Think about what you can have. I’m sure there are lots of things.”
“Yeah,” Jackie said, a questioning look suddenly glazing over her face. Then, “You can still have sex, right?”
More fits of laughter. “Jackie,” I said. “I think it’s fair to say that that’s the last thing I want to think about right now.”
“But if the right man comes along…” She stirred her celery stick around in her cocktail.
“How’s this: If the right man actually comes along, you’ll be the first to know, and I’ll be sure to make an appointment with my doctor to see if it’s all right to have sex. Sound good?”
“Got to be prepared, girl. Got to be prepared.”
Before we called it a night, the Babies film watched intently once everyone knew the topic hit closer to home, I quietly pulled Lara aside. I wanted to see if she wanted to go to my ultrasound appointment with me. I was awfully nervous and didn’t want to go by myself—and I wanted my best friend to join me. So that following Thursday we had a date to go see my baby, in pictures, for the first time. I was ecstatic, and grateful that, even though I didn’t have a partner with whom I could share the baby’s first photo moment, I had my best friend—all of my girlfriends—right there beside me.
***
As the hour approached midnight, I decided to call it a night and close my sketchbook. It felt good to break in the new pencils and charcoals that I’d picked up at the art supply store earlier. It felt even better to spend some time with the creative muse and play around with some sketches I’d yet to finish, including one particular sketch that I started and left unfinished a few weeks ago—a fruit bowl, filled only with oranges. I’d watched The Godfather with Lara not too long ago, and I wanted to run with the whole orange symbolism thing, whatever that was about. I ended up with a sketch of a large bowl of oranges, as opposed to my original plan of the classic bowl of fruit, with a lone orange set off in the background…or maybe the foreground. Not my greatest work, but something to keep me sketching.
I curled up in bed, and before I turned out the lights, I remembered that I needed to share my news with the one friend whom I had not yet told.
Emily! Remember to send Emily an email tomorrow, I told myself. Though still in Ghana and without regular access to the internet, Emily had to be in on the big baby news. She may have always been roaming about somewhere foreign, but she managed to get to her email account in some way, shape, or form at some point. Don’t forget. Then I let myself drift off to sleep, restfully thinking of oranges, and Emily’s small African village, and my baby.
Chapter Four
A whole week! And no word from Brandon!
He was quickly becoming an even bigger asshole than I had assumed. One entire week had passed by and not a single call back or even a shallow text message. Nothing. How could he be so careless about his own flesh and blood? All right, so it wasn’t like he knew he was going to be a dad, but still. I’d left a voicemail that hinted at some amount of seriousness; you’d think he’d be curious or at least have a shred of dignity and do me the kindness of calling me back. And shouldn’t my calling him be alarm enough that something strange was going on?
Maybe that’s why he doesn’t call back. Ignorance is bliss…
“Morning, Robin,” Bobby said, strolling casually into the break room.
“Hey, Bobby. How’s things?” I methodically dunked my tea bag into my hot mug of water.
“They’re going. And you?”
“Feeling a bit sluggish this morning.”
“So, Miss Sinclair’s suddenly a tea-drinking kind of lady now?” he said, sidling up to me. I caught a whiff of his cologne. It was intoxicating that morning, rather than the usual intriguing or delightful.
“Why the big change? I thought coffee was the lifeblood. The secret serum behind all of those brilliant book cover designs.”
I flashed him an ironic glance and continued steeping my tea, hoping and praying this decaf blend Sophie gave me would grant the pick-me-up I certainly needed that morning. I’d been behind my desk for a good hour already, and the mystery novel cover was still missing that special something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“Oh, thought I’d try out this new blend that my friend gave me.”
He picked up the package of tea and looked at it with a discerning eye. “It says ‘decaf’ here, Robin.” He held it out so I could see for myself.
“Silly me,” I said, pretending that I had no idea the tea was without the “secret serum.”
“No wonder you’re feeling sluggish. You funny lady.” He gave my arm a light, playful shove, then started to open the cupboards overhead. “I’m sure there’s some juiced up tea in here somewhere, if tea’s your new preference.”
“That’s all right,” I said, throwing away my tea bag and making my way towards the break room doorway. “This blend is growing on me. I’m fond of it, actually.”
He kept rifling through the cupboards.
“I’m really quite fine. Thanks, Bobby,” I said, although his persistence made me smile. Sophie went out of her way to make sure I had a quality beverage. But Bobby? Since when did a man—not even a friend, a co-worker—become insistent on helping me find my morning lifeblood? Maybe my pregnancy glow and charm were starting to show already. I’d read about that the other night in my baby book, which had actually become my new book of choice after hours.
The book mentioned that as an expecting mother, your partner and even strangers of the male sex (in my case, we’ll just go with random men) will show a more willingness to help you with things, like taking your groceries to your car, or opening doors. Kind of nice in an age where I swear chivalry is nearly dead. They’ll ask if they can help with the most minor of tasks, such as pulling out your seat or offering an extra pillow for back or feet support. Although these gestures are more common during the second and final trimesters, when the mother is clearly showing she’s about to drop, over-the-top helpful gestures by men are commonplace during pregnancy. Not to mention the extra attraction males will have towards the mother-to-be. Apparently a pregnant woman’s lips and cheeks become rosier. Her skin becomes so clear she wonders if she’s back in elementary school, before the plague of pimples attacked. I had noticed that my lips were a brighter shade of pink. And while I’m not one for globs of makeup to begin with—nothing more than a dab of powder and blush, and perhaps light applications of eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss work for me—I had discovered that I didn’t need any blush or lip color lately. Sometimes I felt I could even do without the light dusting of powder. Maybe I was working some momma charm, and Bobby was being so helpful because of the bun in the oven, even if he had no clue I was a-bakin’.
“If you’re sure,” he said. He leaned against the counter, his thick chest standing out ever so slightly behind his jet black dress shirt, the top two buttons open, giving way to a hint of casualness. I caught another whiff of Bobby’s cologne, and I wasn’t particularly fond of what it was doing for my hormones. Was it sudden attraction I was feeling towards Bobby? My goodness! Or were my pregnancy hormones out of whack?
Damn. Stop that, sister!
“You let me know if I can bring you coffee after all,” he offered.
I tittered as I began to make my way back to my office. Back to the mystery novel cover that awaited my stroke of genius. “I’ll be sure to come to you if I want some coffee, Bobby,” I called out. “You do know how I take it.”
“A spoonful of cream and a cube of sugar.”
Pregnancy charm? Ma
ybe. Or maybe I was just the tiniest bit charmed by Mr. Bobby Holman. I’d never really thought of it before, but then again he’d never gone out of his way to be so kind to me. He was always civil and nice, but never a bring-me-my-coffee kind of guy. And to actually know just how I took it? That was really peculiar. Maybe my “pregnant aura,” as You’re Going to Be a Mother called it, was the reason for Bobby’s gentility. And maybe my fondness of it was not hormonal, but the result of a small office crush.
***
The weeklong wait with no word from Brandon was eating me up. I couldn’t work properly; my head was clouded with too many what-ifs and how-comes. I knew there was only one thing I could do to alleviate at least a portion of the distraction—it was time to call Brandon again. Lunch break would be the perfect opportunity, because the time crunch would encourage me to buck up and make the call, and, if he answered, keep it short and to the point.
But first, I had to call Sophie.
“It’s been a whole week and no word,” I said once more to Sophie from inside my car. I had driven a few minutes to one of the nearby parks to eat lunch. I needed complete solace, save for Sophie’s encouragement. “I have to try again. Something could have happened to my voicemail and he never got it. Or something happened to his phone. Or…I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I need to try again.” There was no stopping me.
“Go for it, girl,” Sophie said. “You plan on leaving another message if he doesn’t pick up?”
I sighed. “Yeah, probably. I really hope he picks up.”
“You and me both.”
“Well, thanks for the quick chat. I think I’ll give it a go now.”
“Good luck.”
I didn’t allow myself one more moment of hesitation. I scrolled down to my list of recently placed calls and selected Brandon’s number.
You better pick up.
After the longest five rings of my life, I was once again directed to the damned voicemail.
“Brandon.” I took a quick swallow. “It’s Robin. Again. I really have to speak with you. I don’t want to talk anymore than you do, but I don’t have a choice. All I’m asking for are a few minutes of your time. Please. Please call me back. Or text me that you got this message. Just…just something so I know you hear me.”
When Girlfriends Step Up Page 5
