The Latecomers Fan Club

by Diane V. Mulligan

  “Fuck you, asshole,” she said, hanging up the phone. It was time for her to face the facts: She was going to be a single mother. For real. Not a single mother whose boyfriend would be her partner and helper, who would one day realize how much better their lives would be if they were a real family. No. It was just going to be her. She curled up on her bed and cried herself to sleep.

  The sound of the door opening woke her. She sat up in her dark room and glanced around in a confused, sleepy fog. She grabbed her phone and checked the time: nine o’clock. For a moment she let herself think it was Nathaniel showing up to apologize, but then she heard Breanna calling her.

  “In here,” she answered.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Breanna said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you got back.”

  “It’s okay,” Abby said, rolling away from Breanna, curling up in a little ball with her face to the wall.

  “What’s going on? I thought it was a good visit.”

  “Yeah, go open the freezer and you’ll see just how good.”

  “Please tell me there’s no lasagna in there or this diet is doomed,” Breanna said. She lay down and cuddled up to Abby, smoothing Abby’s hair with one hand. “Seriously, what’s up?”

  “I don’t want to do this alone,” Abby said, trying not to start crying again. She let herself relax against Breanna, grateful for the simple comfort of being close to someone who cared about her. Adults don’t hug each other enough, she thought.

  “You’re not alone, sweetie.” Breanna put her arm around Abby and rested her head against Abby’s shoulder.

  “I know, but you have your own life, and—”

  “I’m not Nathaniel. I know. But you know I’m here for you one-hundred percent and so is Pat. Besides, like you said, Nathaniel wants to be a father, so he’ll come around.”

  Abby knew how hard it must have been for Breanna to put in a good word for Nathaniel. She choked back a little laugh. “I’m not sure anymore,” she said. She wiggled free from Breanna’s embrace and rolled over to face her. As she recounted her conversation with Nathaniel, she felt more tired and defeated than angry.

  Breanna considered the situation for a moment and then asked, “What do you really want from him? I mean, do you want a partner for yourself or do you want him to be here for the baby?”

  To Abby those things were one in the same. She shook her head.

  “You’re going to find someone better,” Breanna said, “someone who can give you the love and commitment you want.”

  Abby wanted to believe her, but how in the world would she even have time to meet someone once she was a single mom with a full-time job? And what guy would want to deal with another man’s child? It was all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, and as far as Abby could tell, it wasn’t going to get any better. For the rest of her life, everything would be slightly off-centered. She was giving up her childish romantic notions to have a baby, and she would put all her efforts into being a loving mom, into making up for the fact that she couldn’t give her child a normal family.

  “So are you going to cut him off entirely?” Breanna asked.

  The thought of having to see Nathaniel to deal with some shared custody arrangement struck her as the worst sort of torture. Besides, how could she trust him with a baby? He’d been drinking so much lately, sinking himself back into the muck she’d dragged him out of before. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I won’t have to. Maybe he’ll just disappear.”

  And wouldn’t that make everything easier? If he never called again, if she never ran into him on the street, if she could wipe his name and face from her memory and actually move forward with her life?

  “You don’t think he’ll try to see the baby?”

  “Probably,” Abby said. If she’d learned anything about Nathaniel over the years, it was that he always came back eventually. Moreover, she could always count on him to do the exact opposite of what she wanted. Abby sat up and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. “We need to talk about something else,” she said, sniffling. “Tell me something good.”

  Breanna sat up too and grinned. “I made us an appointment to go shopping for dresses.”

  Dresses. Abby wasn’t sure this topic was much better, but she forced herself to smile.

  “We’ll go see what kind of bridesmaid options are out there, and you can help me get ideas for myself, too. It’ll be fun.”

  “Definitely,” Abby said.

  “I brought home some magazines and catalogs to show you,” Breanna said, getting up. “Want to see?”

  Abby nodded and climbed off the bed. She followed Breanna to the kitchen and let her prattle on about colors, fabrics, styles, what would suit all the girls with their drastically different shapes, and after a while, she didn’t feel so bad anymore. After a while, she could even feel some excitement for Breanna’s big day.

  Nathaniel

  Nathaniel walked out of the T station onto College Avenue. He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned his face towards the afternoon sun. It still felt more like May than March. Almost two weeks of unseasonably warm weather. Nathaniel knew winter would probably come back and linger into April, though. Days like this couldn’t last. Not in Massachusetts. And thank God for that. He needed gray, cold days—tomato soup days, he called them, when you just stay home and read a book and have soup and cocoa. He wondered if Maggie felt the same way after having living in southern California for so long.

  He thought of Maggie’s shapely legs in her jean skirt, the shadow along her collarbones, and the touch of cleavage in her v-neck shirt. She had looked so good that day in her simple outfit—subtly sexy, a refined, adult woman.

  Julie knew nothing of that subtlety or maturity. When he had met her last night at a bar near her apartment (which was tragically inconvenient to get to), she was wearing tiny cut-off jean shorts and a tank top that was second-skin tight. No bra. He could see the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric. As warm as it had been lately, it wasn’t that warm, not at ten o’clock at night, but if she couldn’t celebrate spring break in Daytona, she could at least dress like it. She was already hammered when he got there. He had had to drink fast to catch up. They danced to loud, terrible music, and by the time they got back to her place, he was so consumed with need for her that he had her standing up, pressing against the inside of the door of her apartment. God, it felt good. To pursue pleasure, and pleasure only, no tenderness, no concern for another’s pleasure, just pure satisfaction. Julie seemed to like it, although he didn’t really care whether she did or not. None of it was about her. She was just a warm, willing body.

  In truth, Nathaniel was disgusted by her, the way she flaunted her sexuality as if the only way she knew how to interact with the world was by drawing all eyes to her body. Still, he’d seen her four times that week. Thank God her roommates were coming back tomorrow because he could not carry on this way. However good those moments of thrust and release felt, the shame and guilt he felt afterward revealed the truth of his situation: He was pathetic.

  Each time he found himself in Julie’s bed, spent but wide awake, all he could ever think about was Abby. Julie was so like Abby, and this was exactly how things started with Abby, too—drunken sex that became a dysfunctional relationship that would soon become parenthood. With the smell of Julie in his nose and the thought of Abby in his head, he was out of bed, putting on his clothes, and heading for the door. As of yet, Julie had not protested. In that way, at least, she differed from Abby.

  Nathaniel hated the person he was with Abby and Julie. With them, he was a cynical, arrogant college professor, and they were the sort of women of average-to-below-average intelligence who are drawn to tall, confident, smart men. Women like that expect to be with men who are smarter than they are, as if winning an intelligent man’s affections is a measure of their own self-worth, y
et being around their higher-IQ partners only ever proves to them how limited their own capacities are. They exist in a miserable cycle: The joy of being favored by someone superior to oneself, the misery of facing one’s inferiority daily. It makes them small. They become doormats, ready for a trampling, no identity, no will of their own. So eager just to be an accessory.

  But with Maggie, Nathaniel felt all cynicism vanish, and his confidence was based not on the smug sense of his own superiority but on his ability to imagine a future for himself that was something other than one huge disappointment. Maggie took him back in time. If he could be with her, he could have a fresh start at adulthood. After all, wasn’t that exactly what Maggie herself was experiencing? Starting again after a divorce. Regrouping at her mother’s house. Learning how to be independent in much the same way as one just entering adulthood. They could help each other start anew. That was what he wanted. It had been so nice to spend the afternoon with Maggie and her nephew. The kid had liked him, and he thought Maggie was impressed with how he had entertained Timmy. It was a little glimpse of what their future could be.

  As he fumbled with the finicky lock on his apartment door, Nathaniel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He hoped it was Maggie, calling to say she’d gotten home safely and that she’d had a great day, but he wasn’t surprised it was Abby, whom he knew was returning from her parents’ house that day. He took a deep breath and answered the phone.

  In an attempt to keep things light, he asked how her trip was. Mistake. Of course. That was all it took to set her off on a tirade about his neglect of her and his unwillingness to take responsibility for the baby. There was little point in attempting to defend himself, so he made only a half-hearted effort.

  When he insisted, as he had several times in the past few months, that he intended to take responsibility and be a good father, she started screeching about what a disappointment he was. How was he supposed to prove he would be a good father before there was a baby? Was he supposed to spend all day with his face pressed to her belly, talking to the fetus? He was going to be a good father, and she was going to be a good mother, and they weren’t going to be a traditional family, but did that even exist anymore anyway? “I have told you from day one that I couldn’t give you what you wanted, but you hung on anyway,” he said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were all wrong, and yet they were true.

  “Fuck you, asshole,” she said and hung up.

  It wasn’t how he wanted the conversation to go, and yet he did want to convince her that the romantic part of their relationship (if you could call any of it romantic or a relationship) was over. So why didn’t he feel relieved?

  He flopped down on his beat up, second hand sofa and ruffled his hand through his hair. Not two hours ago, he’d been sitting with Maggie, watching her nephew, envisioning them playing with his own son. He had created a story in his mind in which Abby had mysteriously vanished from his life, and he and Maggie raised his son together. Sure, Maggie had been awkward with her nephew today, but she’d be a great mom, and she would let him be a great dad, too.

  Abby wanted him to be “the man,” the breadwinner, the soccer coach, the alpha male to her stay-at-home mom. But Maggie was a true twenty-first century woman. She would never want to be a stay-at-home mom. While her current retail employment wouldn’t support a family, that was only temporary. She’d figure out a career plan soon. Maybe she’d work in a gallery or at a museum. They’d be a team balancing both their careers with being great parents. Maggie was smart enough and worldly enough to know a man can be a hands-on parent without being effeminate. And she’d probably be satisfied with one child, even one not of her own DNA, so they’d never have to wreck her beautiful body with pregnancy.

  It was a fantasy he could get lost in. The quaint house in the suburbs, the family dog, driving an SUV. It was in some ways totally ordinary, but to Nathaniel it seemed miraculous, so unlike his own childhood, and therefore ideal. But the fantasy hinged on a world without Abby, and so it was about as realistic as dreaming of living in a castle and taming dragons as pets.

  Based on the way their conversation had just ended, Nathaniel wondered if Abby was even going to allow him a small role in their child’s life. They didn’t know the baby’s sex yet, but Nathaniel couldn’t picture the future without picturing a baby boy. His son. He was certain. If she tried to keep his baby from him, he’d fight her. He had rights.

  What would Maggie think when he told her? He had to tell her. No version of his fantasy could exist without Maggie’s acceptance of him as a father. He wanted to tell her and almost had many times. But he couldn’t stand the thought of her realizing what a failure he’d become, what a terrible mess he’d made of his life.

  He had to give Abby credit for telling her parents in person. He knew that it had to have been terrifying for her. Her parents adored her, and they had big dreams for her. Single motherhood wasn’t part of that. As far as they were concerned, the only thing she’d ever done wrong was date him. Now their worst fears were confirmed. But they were supportive parents. They wouldn’t hold this against her. Not like his mother, whom he simply could not face. At this point, he was actually considering telling her in a letter. He wasn’t sure he could do it any other way.

  Nathaniel’s phone buzzed again, jarring him from his thoughts. Abby again, he assumed. She always called back shortly after hanging up in a rage. She’d call and apologize and beg him not to be mad. But when he looked at his phone, it wasn’t Abby. It was Julie. He was so screwed.

  Maggie

  At the end of the March, the warm weather broke and, despite the technical arrival of spring, winter returned with a weekend of sleet and freezing rain, but it hardly mattered to Maggie. In the temperature-controlled mall with its sterile fluorescent lighting, it was always the same, no matter the time of year or the time of day. It was beginning to feel like a black hole where human time was meaningless. The fact that the clothes on the racks were always a season ahead only proved that time meant nothing.

  In the week since taking Timmy to Boston, she had not heard from Nathaniel at all. Not a text, phone call, or Email. Nothing. On the cold, windy, gray first day of spring, when it was time for her lunch break, Maggie trudged up to the employee lounge in hopes that Vanessa was on break, too. Her company made up for the lack of ambiance. Like a school kid, Maggie took her brown paper bag from her little locker outside the break room and plopped down at one of the long tables. No Vanessa. She unwrapped her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and tore off a little piece, squishing the soft bread between her fingers before popping it in her mouth.

  “What are you, a toddler?”

  Maggie looked up as Vanessa dropped into the seat opposite of her.

  “Got good news,” Vanessa said, unzipping her neoprene lunch bag and producing a container of salad. “There’s an opening at the Beauty by Science counter. It’s not the most glam line, but prom season is upon us, and that means it’ll be busy.”

  Freedom from the crones in Misses and a chance to earn commission. That did sound like good news. And the Beauty by Science counter was right across from the Luxe counter where Vanessa worked.

  “Go see Sharon today,” Vanessa said. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  Maggie nodded and Vanessa reached over and grabbed one of the cookies sitting on top of Maggie’s rumbled lunch bag.

  “Does your mom still pack your lunch?”

  “Very funny.” Maggie pulled an apple from her bag and rubbed it on her shirt. No, her mother didn’t pack her lunch, but the only way she could make herself bring a lunch instead of buying one at the food court was to stick to comfort foods.

  “Want to go to Diary Queen?” Vanessa asked, pushing her salad aside.

  “This job is harmful to my health.” Maggie stood and stretched one of her calves. She’d gained five pounds since she started. Being on one’s feet did
not equate to getting exercise, she had learned, even if her legs were tight and aching at the end of the day.

  “Support hose, I’m telling you,” Vanessa said as Maggie tossed the remains of her lunch in the trash bin. Vanessa wasn’t the only one to have told her this. Supposedly, her coworkers insisted, she’d feel better and prevent unsightly spider veins if she invested in some support hose, but that felt so matronly that she couldn’t make herself do it, even with her employee discount.

  Thanks to the return of cold weather, there was no line at Dairy Queen. They each got small hot fudge sundaes and sat in the food court.

  “Still no word from Nathaniel?” Vanessa asked.

  Maggie shook her head.

  “What’s the deal with this guy?”

  Maggie wished she knew. When she saw him, he was warm and charming. She didn’t think she was misreading the vibe. He was attracted to her. But he was keeping himself at arms’ length, just like he had when they were kids. Worse than that really. Back then he’d call, they’d hang out, they were friends. Now it was more like out of sight, out of mind.

  “Is he just emotionally unavailable or something?” Vanessa asked.

  That was a really good way to put it, Maggie thought. And here was Vanessa who had never met him, yet she could sum him up in one sentence. “I’ve got to stop obsessing over him,” Maggie said. “It obviously isn’t meant to be.” But how do you stop obsessing over someone you’ve been dreaming about for fully half of your life?