Knocked Up

by Christine Bell

  By walking to the bar, and getting completely, totally, and utterly annihilated.

  Chapter 11

  Tawny highlighted her name on the screen, made the font bigger, then changed it to something swirly and eye-catching and then promptly changed it back.

  It didn't matter what she did with her resume now, the fact of the matter was that her credentials qualified her for nearly every job available in the three neighboring school districts. She had years of volunteer experience with children, extraordinary marks from both her classes and her clinical, and enough additional certifications to make any principal's eyes cross.

  It wasn't the resume or the cover letter or even her folio she had to worry about.

  No, it was the fact that, by the time she stepped into any interview, the principal would see her as one big, giant expense.

  As if the medical benefits required to cover her and the baby weren't enough to send her right back out the door, the fact that she'd just have gotten properly trained at her new school and then, a few months later, they’d be pulling her out of the clinic and have to train a substitute nurse, which would be downright insane. Plus, what would she do with the baby when it was time to go back to work again? What kind of daycare would she find? And what would she miss while her child was spending his days with a stranger? His first steps? His first word?

  No, she told herself firmly. It was illegal for a place to deny her a job for being pregnant. And she was lucky. She still had some savings left. She would just keep going on interviews and hope one of the ones that had sworn she was on their short list got back to her before she lost her mind.

  For now, there was no sense in worrying about it. There was nothing to do for it in any case and she couldn't let her concerns cloud her joy about the baby. Whatever would come would come. She'd be a school nurse one day even if she had to work three different jobs to get by until then. Plus, Luke offered to help. She might have to take him up on it, no matter how much it hurt her pride to have to do so.

  Her gaze drifted toward the tiny, silver frame on the corner of her desk and she smiled at the blurry lump that was her baby. When she'd gotten home, the frame had been waiting for her in a little purple gift bag, a note from Suzette stuck to the front of it. Across the top were the words "love at first sight" and Tawny traced the indents of the engraving, focusing again on the little surge of joy that filled her thoughts whenever she thought of her son.

  She picked up the photo, ready to examine it for what must have been the millionth time that day, when a thumbprint on the glossy picture's finish caught her eye. It was bigger than her own by far and then, with a rush of heat, she remember the way Luke had held the picture, too. Remembered the tender look in his eyes as he'd surveyed the very first picture of their baby.

  Those eyes of his had haunted her. So intense and blue. She thought back to the way he'd looked at her that night on the lake or the way he'd looked when she'd seen him in her dreams just that afternoon.

  She swallowed hard, trying to push back the thought, but it surged forward, unbidden, and she put the little frame back down as the memory consumed her.

  She’d fallen asleep, exhausted after her trying afternoon. Instantly, she’d dreamt she was back in the doctor's office. Luke was holding her while she cried, stroking her hair until her gasping sobs slowed and steadied. But in her dream, he’d cupped her chin and tilted her to look up into his face, that same heartbreaking tenderness in his eyes as he said her name. The rough pad of his thumb trailed down her cheek, catching the last of her tears, and then he was coming closer and closer to her, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath, could smell that spicy, earthy mix that was entirely his own.

  And when his lips found hers? She had no choice but to give in, to allow him to lead her back, back, back until she was on top of the little exam table, her legs spreading wide for him again. With one move, he pulled her shirt over her head and in another her bra was gone, free for his mouth to find her stiff, pink nipples and suck hard until she let out a little gasp. She undid her own pants, unable to wait for him to make the move and then--

  Tawny shook her head, face on fire. What the hell was wrong with her? Maybe it was just her hormones. They were clearly wreaking havoc on her system. Totally normal.

  But whatever had happened in that dream, it didn't mean anything. It was simply a reminder of how haywire her emotions could be. A warning, even. And though it might be fun to think about, there was no use in getting herself wrapped up in memories that didn't exist or creating complications in an already super complicated situation. That kind of stress, she reminded herself, was bad for her and for the baby.

  No, what she needed right now was to put the whole world out of her head, make herself a giant bowl of ice cream, and settle into a good long marathon of Gilmore Girls reruns until she could fall asleep and get her head on straight in the morning.

  Who knew? Maybe by the daylight, another school principal or two would have gotten back to her with requests for interviews.

  Determined to relax, she selected her favorite of the now impressive selection of ice cream cartons in her freezer, decided to forgo the bowl altogether, grabbed a spoon and cued up Netflix on her TV. The opening strains of the bright, happy theme song began to play and she hummed along to it before stuffing a spoonful of Rocky Road in her face.

  She was only five minutes in when she heard the equally bright chime of her cell phone from the far corner of the room. Reluctantly, she made her way toward her bag and fished the phone from her bag just as it finished trilling.

  "Of course," she sighed, then glanced at the bright, green words blazing back from her screen.

  One Missed Call: Suzette

  Frowning, Tawny redialed.

  The ringing hadn't even begun to sound when, with a whirr of muffled voices and music, the line clicked to life.

  "Tawny?" Suzette practically screamed and, wincing, Tawny held the phone a little away from her ear.

  "Yeah, it's me. What's going on?"

  "I'm at the Hog-Tie."

  "Okay," Tawny said. "Um, are you having fun?"

  "Guess who else is here?"

  Based on Suzette's flat, unenthusiastic drawl, Tawny had a pretty good idea. "Look, if Rex is there with some girl, I've told you, you just have to--"

  "No, not Rex. Luke. And he found me. He's been talking to me about the baby for a solid twenty minutes and I think he's probably put away nearly three beers in all that time."

  "Jesus," Tawny muttered, and apparently Suzette heard her because she shot back.

  "I don't think even Jesus can help you now, sweets. He is drunk as a skunk and I'm thinking you better get down here before he starts talking more and louder about all this."

  "What do I care if Luke gets drunk? He's an adult who can make his own--"

  "Mmmhmm, so you're fine if he screams about the little bun in your oven for the whole town to hear? And you want them all knowing who the father is already?"

  "Shit," Tawny said. Until they figured out what they were doing, the last thing they needed was added pressure from anyone else knowing.

  "Exactly. Now come on down here and I'll try to keep him busy until you do."

  "Okay, thanks." She clicked off the phone, grabbed her keys, and headed for the door, but just as she was about to turn the handle, she realized that she was still in her form-fitting T-shirt and maternity pants.

  "Double shit." She turned on her heel, bolted into her bedroom, then flew open the door of her closet, grabbing an old crumpled Jersey from the floor. It was her exes only football jersey--left over from the days when he'd not-so-thoughtfully brought his laundry over and pretended it was a date--and she threw it on to cover the little swell of her tummy.

  Now certain that her bases were covered, she made for her car and started the engine, working her way through fear until she was downright furious. What right did this guy have? What right did he have to come into her life, change it forever, and then spill
her secrets all over town?

  She hadn't even had the nerve to call her parents yet, for Christ’s sake. Like she needed Mildred from the yarn works up town knowing her business before her very own mother and father?

  And Luke had only known about their son for less than 24 hours. What could he possibly have to say about him?

  In the back of her mind, she pictured Luke slurring baby names or insisting that their son be named after him. God, what if he was one of those guys? What if he thought she didn't even have a say in what she'd call her own son? What if he wanted to name him Han Solo or something stupid like that. Or, worse, Evel Knievel?

  She skidded into the parking lot of the Hog-Tie and, ignoring the loud thumping of the music and the clusters of stumbling college students outside, she burst through the door and scanned the room, looking for Suzette’s too-bright red lips or Luke’s tall, hulking frame.

  They weren't hard to spot--or, at least, Luke wasn't. He was leaning over the jukebox, clutching the half-empty beer he'd set on top of it, and apparently arguing passionately with Suzette.

  As Tawny approached, she caught the last few snatches of their conversation.

  “Meat Loaf is an under appreciated artist,” he was saying, his face dead serious. “He just wears his heart on his sleeve, you know?”

  In response, Suzette reached out to take his beer from him, only to have him snag it back and take another gulp.

  "Oh, Tawny, good." Suzette grinned, her gaze looking desperate as she placed her hand on her friend's shoulder. "He jut sank twenty dollars in the jukebox. Enjoy."

  "But--" Tawny started, but Suzette shook her head.

  "Uh, uh, uh. This is between the two of you. There's a whiskey sour at the bar with my name on it and the ice is already melting. I’ve done my good deed for the day. Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes."

  “Right. Uhh,” Tawny said, but before she got the chance to wish her friend a good night, or, more likely claw at her arm and beg her to stay, Luke started shouting her name.

  “Tawny! You're here!" He ushered her over with a sweep of his arm. "Come pick out a song. Suzette wanted to play the Boot Scootin’ Boogie, and I'm pretty sure anything else would be an improvement."

  Tawny pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, then said, "Luke, what are you doing?"

  "Right now? Trying to decide which is a better song--Do you like Heaven Can Wait or Paradise by the Dashboard Light?"

  “Dear God, neither. Come on, Luke—”

  "That's the thing, though. I don't know much about you, do I? Maybe you're more of a Destiny's Child, N*Sync kind of girl?"

  "Luke, come on." She grabbed his sleeve as he pressed another button on the jukebox. "What are you doing right now?"

  "I'm getting drunk." He took another sip of his beer then, realizing it was empty, his face fell.

  "Right. Well, I think it might be time to sit back and enjoy your musical selections and have something to drink that doesn’t have alcohol in it, alright?" She took his hand in hers and led him to a booth on the far side of the room, ignoring the gazes of the people watching them as they went. It could be worse, she reminded herself. He could have been screaming to all the world about the baby. Now all she had to do was sober him up and get him home before he had the chance to do just that.

  Almost as soon as they sat down, a harassed looking waitress appeared at the edge of their table.

  "I'll have--" Luke began, but Tawny cut him off.

  "He'll have a strong black coffee. And a soda for me. Um, cherry cola if you have it."

  "You got it. Anything else?" The waitress glanced from Luke to Tawny and back again.

  "French fries?" Luke asked, a speculative gleam in his eyes. Tawny blew out a sigh.

  "Yeah, okay. Your biggest order of French fries. Please."

  "With cheese and gravy,” Luke added.

  "Sure thing." The woman walked away and Luke's gaze followed her for a minute before he spoke again.

  "She seemed nice."

  "Yep," Tawny said, and in the background, the strains of Sweet Caroline began to play, “She’s a saint, if you ask me.”

  "I love this song," Luke said, already on to something new.

  "This song?"

  "It's one of my favorites. My mom sings it when she cleans the house." He clutched his empty beer glass and tried to take another sip, but Tawny took it from him.

  Apparently, he hadn't noticed this, though, because he was too busy screaming "Bum bum bum!" along to the music with the rest of the bar.

  When the chorus ended, he turned to her, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. "Caroline is a nice name."

  "Not for a boy," she countered, and then Luke's eyes widened and he looked as though someone had just punched him in the gut.

  “Oh yeah. It’s a boy. A baby boy.”

  He shook his head and the shadow of reality crashing in on his buzz fell over his face. All at once, he looked like a lost child and a very old man and when he raised his gaze to hers again, everything hit her all at once.

  He looked exactly the way she'd felt when she'd seen the little screen of the pregnancy test, and when she met his eyes she could see the struggle for understanding mingled with the hurt and the confusion and the hope. All the things that this baby was to her, staring right back at her.

  Both of their worlds, their lives, had been thrown off their axis and where she'd had four months to deal with reality, he'd had less than 24 hours.

  “I’m sorry to put you through all this," she said, just loud enough to be heard over the music. “And I’m sorry I was so mean at the doctor’s office at first. Its just…”

  "No, no, you've got a lot on your mind, too,” he said. Luckily, before things got even deeper, the waitress re-appeared with a steaming tray of fries in hand. After setting their drinks down in front of them, she traipsed away and they started in on their feast.

  As they ate, Tawny wondered over and over again what she could say to make things better for him--what she might have wanted someone to say to her when she'd found out that first day. But there was nothing that could rectify this or make it normal, make it right.

  So, instead, she settled on something else.

  "I am a Destiny's Child girl, you were right."

  He looked up at her, confused for a moment, but she pressed on.

  "When you asked earlier. I like Destiny's Child, but it's only because we were Stateside when Survivor was popular. I mostly listened to my mom's old mix tapes when I was growing up because we couldn't always get American radio."

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "Military brat, remember? I didn't get to watch a lot of TV or listen to a lot of different music, but if you ever want to know the ins and outs of Pakistani market towns, I'm your girl." She smiled at him and plucked another fry off the plate between them.

  "I didn't know that," he said.

  "And, you know, if I had to pick, I'd go with Heaven Can Wait. Paradise by the Dashboard Ligh' gets too much play."

  "Agreed." He nodded, then stuffed another fry in his mouth before picking up his coffee. "So what was on your mom's old mix tapes?"

  "God, those things should never see the light of day." She laughed. "You know the musical Mary Poppins? Well, one of her mixes was just songs from that combined with, like, old-school rap music. I’m talking, like, Sugar Hill Gang kind of stuff. So, you'd go from singing Rapper's Delight to Chim Chimerie. I do not recommend it."

  Luke grinned and took a sip of his coffee, and for the next twenty minutes they talked over all the songs he'd picked out on the jukebox, why he'd picked them, and whether or not anyone in the bar would want to hear them. Credit to him that he laughed ruefully when, as a general rule, they did not. Still, when the fries had finally gone and his coffee cup was empty, he left some money on the table and let her lead him out to her car.

  "I can walk home," he insisted, but she shook her head.

  "Nope, we're going to make sure you
get there safely. Now, come on. You've just got to tell me where to go."

  The drive took less than two minutes, and when they got to his house, she walked up to the little apartment above the garage with him, keeping one hand on his muscular bicep to make sure he didn’t tumble down the steps. The coffee and food had helped, but it wasn’t pixie dust, either. Still, she couldn’t help recalling what those muscles had looked like in the moonlight.

  Dirty girl.

  They stepped into the apartment and she glanced around as he flicked on a lamp. It was a small space, but it was nice, sparsely furnished--complete with a little kitchenette and a tiny bathroom. Without waiting for instruction, she made her way toward the medicine cabinet, opened it, and poured some ibuprofen into her hand.

  "Okay, glass of water, please," she said.

  "I don't need water. I'm fine."

  "Luke," she reprimanded, and apparently something in her tone was enough to send him to the cabinet for a glass. Within moments, he'd swallowed the ibuprofen and downed the glass of water, but just to be safe, she led him toward the bed and tucked him in.

  "You don't have to do this," he said, and she was happy to notice that the slur in his voice had nearly disappeared.

  "I know," she said.

  He tugged on the bottom of her T-shirt. "This doesn't look like you."

  "It's not mine."

  He knit his brows. "Whose is it?"

  "An ex-boyfriend's."

  "I don't like it,” he muttered. “I don’t want to see you in another man's clothes."

  His hand dropped from the hem of her shirt as every muscle in her body tensed.

  She swallowed hard. "Ok, um, I should probably go."

  She moved toward the door, but the sound of his voice stopped her in her tracks.

  “Tawny?”

  She turned back to meet his gaze in the dim light.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “That night?"