by Rye Hart
Danielle sucked on her lower lip, as if contemplating her next move. Eventually, she had to admit defeat, and she nodded her head slowly.
“I guess that's the best I can hope for then,” she said, her voice colored with resignation. “But please, Malcolm, I'd very much like to be part of your family. Since we're having a child together, it seems only right that we all get along.”
“Fine,” I said. “You're welcome to spend time with my family, and I'll keep my thoughts to myself.
“Thank you,” she said, reaching out for my hand.
She squeezed it, and for a moment, I wanted to believe she'd changed. That maybe her affair was just a fluke. A situation brought on because I was working too much. After all, my own father had hardly been around, and I remembered the toll it took on my mother. Being with someone who worked constantly was a challenge a lot of women couldn't handle.
As much as some small part of me wanted to forgive her though, to go back to the way we were was just not possible. I didn't love her. Not anymore. There was someone else that I'd prefer to spend my time with now. Somebody who made me feel happy and carefree. Somebody who made me feel like it was okay to be me and that I was good enough.
There was someone else who'd had hold of my heart. If we were lucky, she'd also be having my baby, and with Casey, I'd never have any question it was mine.
~ooo000ooo~
My phone rang while I was getting ready for bed, and Casey's name popped up on the caller ID. My heart raced, and I answered right away, a little jolt of fear and adrenaline pumping through my veins. She wasn't one to call – especially not late. So, seeing that he was calling me made me think something had happened.
“Casey?” I asked. “What's wrong? Are you alright?”
“I'm fine,” she said. “I just hadn't heard from you since our little run-in yesterday.”
“Yeah, I'm sorry,” I said, collapsing on my bed, a feeling of relief washing through me.
I usually checked in with her every single day, asking her if she had any news and just generally making sure she was okay.
“I've had a lot going on here at home, unfortunately,” I said. “How are you?”
“I'm good,” she said. “I took a test this morning, even though it's probably too early.”
“And?” I sat up on the bed.
If I'd thought my heart was racing before, it was really going now. If she were pregnant and Danielle was telling me the truth, I'd have two babies on the way. In that moment, I started to freak out about caring for two kids when I wasn't even sure I was ready to be a father. Especially not a single father.
“It was still negative,” she sighed. “I just keep hoping and praying this works.”
“Yeah, about that, Casey,” I said. “If this doesn't work, I guess we can hold off on trying for a bit.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding surprised. “Don't you need to hurry things along?”
I was torn. Danielle could be lying to me. If she was actually pregnant, the baby might not even be mine. Though she had a point earlier, if it were Adam's – or any chance it might be his – then he wouldn't have just sat there and let her claim it was mine. Not with so much at stake. Still didn't mean it wasn't someone else's, but she went as far as offering to let me talk to the other man. Maybe I'd just needed to accept that this child could actually be mine.
Before I could answer though, there was a knock at my door.
“Casey, I'll call you later,” I said, voice hushed.
“Okay...” she said, her voice trailing off.
She'd sounded hurt, and I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but whoever was on the other side of my door knocked again. I couldn't risk them hearing my conversation.
I hung up the phone and stood up. Crossing the room, I swung the door open, expecting my mother. Instead, I came face-to-face with Adam.
“Give me one good reason not to slam this door in your face,” I growled.
“Easy, brother,” he said, hands up and in a defensive pose. “I'm just coming by to apologize. I shouldn't have mentioned Casey at dinner, not with Danielle pregnant and all. Which, by the way, I just found out about tonight. So, I guess I have no choice but to concede the company to you then, right?”
His voice sounded too cheerful for him to be conceding.
“Why are you really here?” I asked.
“Just wanted to congratulate my brother,” he said. “Is that so wrong?”
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for the truth. Adam smirked and rolled his eyes.
“Fine. I guess I shouldn't congratulate you just yet,” he said. “We'll wait until the baby is born, because you never know what might happen, right? Especially since you have a side chick and all.”
“I don't have a side chick,” I said, my voice rising. “Goodnight, Adam.”
I shut the door before he could say anything else. I had nothing else to say to him, or anyone for that matter. I finished getting ready for bed, even though it was earlier than usual, and laid in bed for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, my mind a battlefield of conflicting thoughts and emotions.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CASEY
I woke up a few days later and couldn't get to the bathroom soon enough. My stomach roiled, and I was shaky and sweating. I generally felt like crap. I'd eaten some of Raya's vegan food and figured that was why. I dropped down on my knees in front of the toilet with no time to spare. All of that quinoa and other hippie garbage was coming up again.
As I prayed to the porcelain gods, my first thought was to blame the weird vegan food. It had to be that. Clearly, I wasn't built for the vegan lifestyle and required copious amounts of grease, fast food, and French fries.
But then, after throwing up everything I thought I'd eaten for the last ten years, and wiping my face clean with a cool, damp cloth, another thought occurred to me. A thought that sent a bolt of fear mixed with excitement coursing through my veins.
I could be pregnant.
I dug out the paper bag with the pregnancy tests inside of it, my hands trembling as I unwrapped one. My hands were trembling so badly, I dropped it twice before I got the packaging open.
Oh God, please let it be. My stomach lurched again, this time from nerves though.. I sat on the toilet and slipped the tester between my legs, peeing on the stick. When that was done, I sat there, waiting impatiently, my nerves jangling terribly.
I had no choice but to wait for the result. I kept an eye on the clock, feeling like the seconds were ticking by agonizingly slowly. I tapped my feet on the floor and drummed my fingers on my thigh. Waiting sucked, but I had no other choice.
Malcolm hadn't called me back since our very short conversation a few nights ago, when he'd basically told me we would stop trying for a bit if we weren't pregnant. I thought it was a really strange comment to make and I didn't know why he was feeling that way. I mean, we'd only been together a handful of times, and sometimes, it takes a minute for an egg to be fertilized. Why so ready to give up?
Was that his way of breaking things off with me? I didn't know, but something had very clearly changed if he was talking about not trying again so soon.
My head was spinning as I waited for the damn timer to go off, and when it did, I almost jumped out of my skin. I was apparently wound a bit too tight. I reached for the stick and stared at it for a long time before it made sense to me, even though the test was one of those that merely spelled it out for you – ‘pregnant or not pregnant’. There were no lines to read, no guessing whether there were one or two lines. It literally told me what I'd needed to know in one simple word.
In this case, it said Pregnant.
“I'm pregnant,” I whispered to myself.
I stared down at my mostly flat tummy and had a hard time imagining that there was a life growing inside of me. Aside from the nausea I'd just had, I'd felt okay. I didn't have an ongoing case of morning sickness or any other symptoms, really. I'd never kept track of my period before
, never had to, but as I sat there and thought back, I realized that maybe I was actually late.
Because I was pregnant. The results were positive. “Holy shit,” I said to myself, sitting on the closed toilet seat.
My hands were shaking so badly, it looked like I had palsy or something, as I reached for my phone. I typed out several messages to Malcolm, only to erase them and try again, doing my best to find the right words.
After about my thirtieth attempt to draft an appropriate text, I realized that I couldn't tell him the news over text. No, I'd have to tell him face to face. And honestly, I couldn't wait to see the look in his eyes. I decided to send a simple enough message.
Hey there
Yes, after nearly twenty minutes of agonizing over each and every word I thought about sending, that was all I'd sent. I sat there and waited for a response. Nothing came for a long time, and I realized it was early. Maybe too early. He could still be asleep. I convinced myself that he probably was still asleep.
But, then I realized how ridiculous that was. It was seven in the morning, who was I kidding? Malcolm was not sleeping. He was already up and about. He was an early bird, which meant that maybe, he was on his way to work. Yeah, that had to be it. That seemed like the most reasonable explanation.
I kept waiting for some response though, anything at all. About half an hour later, my phone buzzed, and I jumped out of my skin. My heart racing and my hands trembling, I picked up my phone and looked at his message.
Hey there, Casey. Sorry, been busy. How are you?
Uhhh, pregnant with your child? That's how I am. Not that I could have typed that out. I settled for something less dramatic.
I'm good. Think we can get together tonight?
Waiting was the worst. I needed to see him, to speak with him in person. This was news that had to be delivered in person. Anything else would just be wrong. My heart was beating out of my chest and I felt like I could throw up at any minute.
I kept staring at my phone. Waiting. And waiting some more. He took forever to get back to me. Again. Maybe I should have called instead. Finally, another message came through.
Can't tonight. Family dinner. Can I call you later?
My heart sunk as I read the words. I'd never felt more alone than I did in that moment. I was pregnant, freaked out emotional, and didn't want to settle for a phone call. This was not news that could or should be delivered in an email, over the phone, or in a text. The only right way to tell somebody they were going to be a father was when you were looking them in the eye.
Not sure what else I could do though, I told him it was fine and put my phone away.
Tears, fat and warm, rolled down my cheeks. I wasn't even sure why I was crying, except for the fact that I felt emotional and scared. What if Malcolm had changed his mind about wanting a baby? Or that his feelings for me had changed somewhere along the line.
Maybe, that was why he'd asked to slow things down if we weren't pregnant. If that was the case, what in the hell was I going to do then? I couldn't force him to raise the child – not if he didn't want to raise it. If he didn't want to take the baby after it was born, there was nothing I could do about it.
The other side of that coin was that I wasn't capable of raising it on my own. There was no way I could do it, not with so many responsibilities already heaped on my plate. The idea of an abortion, one of the only other realistic options I could consider, made me cry even harder.
I couldn't explain it, but as soon as I'd found out there was a life inside of me, I loved that baby. My heart swelled when I thought about it and I wanted the best for the baby. I also knew that unless Malcolm went through with the plan, and did as he said he'd do, I was not going to be able to raise a child on my own. Which was problematic in so many ways.
More than that though, I wanted to know what sort of life could I expect for my child, even if Malcolm did end up wanting him or her? Would he be a good father? Or would he be an absentee father? Would he actually raise a child, or let nannies do it for him?
So many questions, and all of them without an answer. All I knew was there was no way I'd get an answer over the phone. I needed to see him in person. I needed to ask him these questions face to face and see what kind of answers he had for me.
As I thought about it, and the questions swirled around my head, a dark, ominous feeling washed over me. What if he wasn't going to let me in? If he refused to see me, what could I do?
Then an idea hit me. Hard. It probably wasn't the best idea I'd ever had, but it was, at least, a way in. A family dinner. Just like the one Adam had invited me to before. It might piss off Malcolm, but I saw no way around it. If he wasn't going to return my texts and wasn't going to see me, what else could I do?
I grabbed hold of my purse and dropped it in my lap, digging around until I found the card Adam had given me at their office. His cell phone number was listed on it, and before I could give it any more thought – which would more than likely result in me stopping myself from going on with this foolish plan – I'd already texted him.
Adam, it's Casey. Does the offer still stand to meet the family?
I bit my nail, my stomach churning – and not because of the pregnancy – as I waited for a response. His answer came within two seconds, flat.
Of course, Casey. I'll pick you up at six. Just send me your address.
Just like that, I was in. I'd be joining the Cranes – Malcolm included – for dinner. He wouldn't be able to turn me away then, right? Nor would he be able to duck my questions. It was going to be tense and awkward, but it was unfortunately, necessary. It wasn't about me and my needs, or even about Malcolm and his needs. Not anymore.
~ooo000ooo~
Adam was at my door about fifteen minutes earlier than I'd expected. I was having second thoughts and had been seriously contemplating canceling the entire thing, but I still had no word back from Malcolm, and I couldn't handle the stress of waiting another day to see if he'd finally get back to me. We needed to talk, and he was being evasive.
He seemed to be too busy for me these days, and I was sick of sitting around and waiting for him to make time for me. Especially since I had something very important to tell him and needed to figure out what the next steps were going to be.
“Just have to throw on some shoes,” I said. “Feel free to come inside.”
I dug through Raya's shoe pile until I found a cute pair of kitten heels, which went perfectly with the strapless floral dress I'd borrowed from her as well. Having friends with money came with some added benefits sometimes – like being able to find nice clothes when you need to be presentable.
“No rush. Take your time,” Adam said, as he walked around the tiny studio, looking at everything. “Cute place you have here.”
“Thanks,” I said.
I didn't feel the need to explain that it wasn't actually my place. We weren't that close. Besides, if he thought I lived in WeHo, it might make him respect me a little bit more. Or at least, not look down on me as much. WeHo was the hip, bougie place to be these days.
I turned and saw him holding Raya's bong. He held it up and sniffed it before giving me a mischievous look.
“That's not mine,” I mumbled.
Though now, as I actually looked around the place, I noticed there were several bongs on shelves, along with other pot smoking paraphernalia. Damn, Raya. I knew she liked to smoke a joint now and then, but did she really need this much crap?
“Hey, it's legal now. Who am I to judge what a girl does in her own home?” he said, putting the funky blue bong back down on the coffee table with a laugh.
“No, but seriously, it's not mine. I don't do that, legal or not,” I muttered. “Nothing against it, it's just not my thing.”
“Sure, okay,” Adam said with a shrug. “I really don't give a shit if you smoke pot or not. We all have our secrets and vices. Even my brother.”
My ears perked up at the mention of Malcolm. As if he could read my mind, Adam chuckled and shook
his head a bit. He looked up at me and seemed to be relishing the fact that he knew something I didn't. Or maybe, it was the fact that he could potentially destroy the image of Malcolm I carried around in my head with what he knew.
Either way, it was kind of greasy, and kind of a dick move. It made me like him even less than I already did. But, he was a means to an end, so I needed to play nice. For now, at least.
“You really don't know Malcolm that well, do you?” he asked.
“Not really,” I said.
“But you're sleeping together”
I stared at him, wide-eyed, and slack-jawed. “How did you – ”
“I didn't actually,” Adam said, smirking, with his hands buried deep into his pockets. “But I do now. God, you should see the look on your face right now.”
I closed my mouth and stood up tall. “I didn't say we were.”
“Oh, trust me, sweetheart, I couldn't care less if you're sleeping with Malcolm or not. I'm just surprised he moved on so fast,” he said. “You look like a nice enough girl though. Not really his usual type, but I can see the attraction.”
I wasn't sure if that was meant as a compliment or not. I didn't take it as one.
“Don't call me sweetheart,” I said. “I'm not a fan of pet names and we're not that close, Adam.”
“Oh, sorry, didn't mean to offend you,” Adam said.
He looked a lot like Malcolm standing there. I could definitely see the family resemblance. They had similar bone structure and everything. Adam was maybe a couple inches shorter, with different colored eyes, but you could tell they were related. Adam was dressed impeccably as well, just like his brother. Unlike Malcolm, however, I didn't like Adam. Not at all.
I sneered at him and considered telling him he could take his “sweetheart” and “nice enough girl” comments, shove them up his ass, and get the fuck out of my life. But, he was my only way in to see Malcolm, and to hopefully get some answers about the type of family environment my baby would be growing up in.
