by Lila Moore
“I know you’re lying. When I woke up and found my ring gone, I knew you’d taken it. I tried calling you, but of course you didn’t answer. You don’t have any friends so that was a nonstarter. Then I remembered that ugly boy you were fooling around with. The one you’ve been moping around this house over like he was the last man on Earth. I checked your social media accounts and I found his name. Then I messaged him on Facebook and told him to call me if he saw you. This is what he sent me.”
She held up her phone. It was a photo of me completely naked in the strip club. My face was twisted with anger. I held up my hand. The engagement ring was clearly visible, as was Luke’s face and naked form behind me.
“Is this how you get revenge? By fucking my fiancé?”
The room started to spin. I thought I might pass out.
“Well? Miss Know-It-All has got nothing to say for once in her life? How could you? You have no idea what you’ve done.”
She rose suddenly. I took a step back and lifted my arm in defense. My mother has never hit me, but I was prepared for her to strike me.
“I’m pregnant with his child and here you are fucking him in a strip club!”
She threw the phone down at my feet and stormed out of the room. Stars danced in front of my eyes. I couldn’t breathe. My mother was carrying Luke’s baby. The room spun around me violently then faded to black as I passed out.
Part Two
Genevieve
“No, no, no, no…”
I turned the pregnancy test over and examined it more closely in the light. A blue plus sign was a positive result. I reread the instructions for the tenth time. A red minus was a negative: no baby.
I squinted at the pregnancy test. It kind of looked like a minus symbol in the right light. There was no denying the blue color though.
“Shit.”
Who was I kidding? It was definitely a blue plus sign. I was pregnant. I tossed it into the sink with the other pregnancy tests. I’d taken five in total. Four had given me positive results; one was inclusive.
Maybe the inclusive result was correct? I hoped. If the four positives were accurate then I was pregnant with Luke’s baby.
The room started to spin. I needed to sit down. My mother was pregnant with Luke’s baby too. That meant my baby would be my mother’s baby’s sibling as well as its niece or nephew. Luke would be my baby’s father and its step-grandfather.
I slid down the wall of the bathroom and pulled my knees up to my chest and took a deep breath. It had been three weeks since I’d last seen Luke. As soon as I found out my mother was pregnant I decided I could never see him again. I wanted to, more than anything. He was the first thing I thought of when I woke up in the morning and the last thing on my mind when I fell asleep at night.
But I just couldn’t see him again. Not if my mother was carrying his child. A secret, he was unaware of. I’m not sure when she was planning on telling him. Knowing my mother, she’d make sure he found out at the most inconvenient time possible.
I looked at my phone. Luke sent me messages every day. I never responded. He’d only texted me once today. Soon he’d give up altogether.
My thumb hovered over the screen. I wanted to respond, but I knew what happen. He’d want to meet. I wouldn’t be able to resist and we’d end up in bed together. At least, that’s how it went down in my fantasy.
Of course, Luke and I had only slept together once. I hadn’t seen him since our encounter at the Blu Lounge. I wouldn’t be surprised if he regretted sleeping with me. He didn’t need more drama in his life. If he only knew the mess we were in now.
There was a knock at the bathroom door. I dropped my phone and jumped to my feet.
“What are you doing in there?” my mother called.
“Nothing.”
I grabbed the pregnancy tests out of the sink and frantically looked around for a place to hide them. She twisted the doorknob.
“Why is the door locked?” she asked.
“Just a second.”
I shoved the pregnancy tests down the front of my hoodie and zipped it up.
“You sound funny. Are you doing drugs in there?”
I unlocked the door and opened it. My mother looked past me. The bathroom was clear of any evidence. I’d stashed the pregnancy test boxes in my bedroom earlier. I’d dispose of them all once she was gone.
She narrowed her eyes.
“No, I’m not doing drugs. Are you disappointed?”
“Disappointed you’re not doing drugs?”
“You’re always going on and on about boring and uptight I am. I figured you’d thinking doing drugs was a good idea- that it might loosen me up.”
“Good point. Maybe you should do drugs.”
My mother pushed past me and walked into the bathroom. She examined the contents of the trashcan and looked inside the cabinets. I don’t know what she thought I was hiding, but I’d made sure not to leave a trace.
“Satisfied?” I asked.
She stood up straight and turned to the side. She ran her hands over her stomach and considered herself in the mirror.
“I’m so fat already!” she declared.
“Your stomach is flat as a board,” I replied.
My mother took every chance she could to rub her pregnancy in my face. She looked the same as she always did, but she walked around making declarations about her ‘huge’ baby bump.
When my mother dropped the baby bomb on me I passed out. When I woke, I was alone on the living room floor. It was early morning and my mother was nowhere in sight. I hid out in my bedroom for the next couple days and did everything I could to avoid her. It was impossible, though.
Then one morning I woke up to the smell of breakfast being cooked. Cautiously, I’d walked into the kitchen. My mother was cooking homemade chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, eggs, hash and more. She took out a parfait glass and filled it full of vanilla yogurt, granola and sliced strawberries and blueberries. She’d set the parfait glass down in front of me and smiled.
“Sit and eat,” she’d said.
She placed a plate piled high with food in front of me. She placed a second down in front of her and started to eat. She never ate like this. She spent most of the time starving herself.
I watched her eat and wondered why the sudden change in mood. The last time she cooked me breakfast was when I was a little kid and deathly ill. I’d come down with one of the worst cases of chicken pox the doctor had ever seen. I ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. My mother spent all night by my bedside and when I came home she waited on me hand and foot. It was the last time I remember feeling really loved by her. I clung to it as proof that deep down she cared about me.
After breakfast, she acted as if nothing had ever happened, like my hook-up with Luke had never taken place. A part of me was suspicious, but a stronger part of me wasn’t surprised. My mother was the kind of person who liked to bury her head in the sand when bad things happened. She never confronted her problems; she just acted like they didn’t exist. Case in point: her engagement ring. She was proudly wearing it again.
The morning after the strip club visit, I smeared liquid soap all over my finger and pried it off. I left the ring sitting on her bathroom counter beside her makeup. My mother found it without comment. She was wearing it all the time now as if the blowup at the restaurant had never happened. She was back to pretending she was engaged again.
“You’re just flattering me,” she said. “I’m big as whale.”
“When have I ever gone out of my way to flatter you?”
She laughed. “You’re right. Oh! That reminds me.”
She took off her ring and handed it to me. I turned the diamond over in my hand.
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“I want you to wear it.”
“Why?”
“Just for tonight. I’m meeting my Italian Daddy tonight. Can’t have him asking me questions about that ring. I figured the safest place for it was on your finger.
You did a good job of keeping it safe before.”
There was edge of annoyance to her voice. I did my best to ignore it.
“Wait, what? You’re going out with one of your other Daddies even though you’re pregnant?”
I thought my mother had given up her Sugar Daddies now that she was pregnant and plotting to force Luke to marry her. Apparently, I was wrong.
“The bills aren’t going to pay themselves. I’m tapped out. Armando has promised me a big surprise if I meet him tonight.”
“What’s Luke going to say when he finds out you’ve been fucking other men while pregnant with his child?”
She tilted her head to the side, considering me like I was an alien species.
“Why would he find out? Are you planning on telling him? Because if you do-”
“No! I’m not telling him anything. I haven’t spoken him to him since…”
I let what happened go unsaid. The picture of Luke and I naked in each other’s arms was scorched into my memory. My mother could pretend like nothing happened, but I seriously doubt she’d ever forget the image of me naked wearing her engagement ring, lying beside one of her Sugar Daddies.
By leaving it unspoken maybe we could broker peace until I moved away for college. Assuming I wasn’t heavily pregnant by then and forced to put college on hold.
My stomach twisted into knots. When I tried to imagine myself as a mother my mind went blank. I couldn’t picture it. Maybe the reason why was that I’d never really had a mother of my own.
I watched her as she checked herself out in the mirror. She wore a tight black dress and heels. She’d had blonde extensions added to her hair. Platinum white, straight and long; her hair framed her face severely. It didn’t flatter her. Yesterday, she’d come home eager to show it off. The first words out of her mouth were: “Luke is going to love it! He adores blondes, can’t stand anything else.”
The message was clear: Luke thinks I’m hotter than you. I brushed my dark hair out of my eyes and slid the ring onto my finger. I didn’t have the energy to fight my mother today. I vowed never to mention Luke’s name around her unless it was absolutely necessary. It was best this way. I didn’t want to rip the scab off the wound and end up in another screaming match with her.
“See that you don’t speak to him again,” she said. “It’s not right. He’s going to be your stepfather.”
And my baby’s stepgrandfather, I thought, doing my best to suppress the urge to vomit. The morning sickness had been my first big clue something was off. Every morning like clockwork I was nauseous. I’ve spent the last week and a half vomiting nonstop. When my period came late, I instantly knew the cause.
Luke and I didn’t use a condom. At the time, it felt natural and amazing. I wasn’t worried about the consequences. Now look at the mess I was in. I slid down the door and sat on the floor outside the bathroom.
“You look terrible,” my mother said. “Are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine,” I lied.
I didn’t want my mother asking too many questions about my sudden sickness. She might piece the truth together. I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do about the baby. Whatever decision I made, I was going to handle it quietly and privately. I didn’t want anyone to know about it.
“Which one is Armando?” I asked, changing the subject. She perked up now that the conversation had turned back around to her favorite topic: herself.
“Olive skin, dark eyes with gray hair. He always dresses in perfectly tailored suits.”
I had no idea who she was talking about.
“Oh, yeah. He’s hot,” I replied.
“Armando’s a hat trick.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he has the three best achievements any man can have. He’s rich, handsome and… he’s rich.”
I laughed, thinking she was making a joke. She smiled, but didn’t join in my laughter. She was probably serious. Poor Luke. If she somehow managed to use her pregnancy as leverage to blackmail him into marrying her, his life would be ruined. I watched as she reapplied her lipstick in the mirror then smacked her lips together.
“Don’t wait up,” she said.
I hugged my knees to my chest as she shimmied past me. I could hear the pregnancy tests crunch together inside my shirt. If my mother heard, she gave no indication. Their mere presence gave me anxiety. I wanted to get rid of them immediately.
“Don’t lose that,” she said, pointing to the ring.
I slipped it onto my finger.
“I won’t.”
Luke. I had to tell them the truth. It was the only way to stop him from making the worst mistake of his life.
Luke
I finished off my sixth beer and ordered another. I looked down at my cell phone and considered checking my notifications again.
“I swear to God, Luke- you touch that phone one more time and I’m going to throw it out the window.”
Trent drank down the last of his beer, then snatched my cell phone off the bar and stuck it in his pocket.
“Hey! I need that. I’m still waiting to hear back from our office in Hong Kong. They’re going to need an immediate decision and if they can’t get ahold of me they won’t know what to do.”
It was a lie; Hong Kong would survive without me. I didn’t want Trent to know the truth: I was desperate to hear back from Genevieve. Something was wrong. I was sure she’d respond immediately to my calls and texts, but nothing. It was like she’d disappeared from the face of the Earth.
“You’re just worried about that girl. You got a taste of that young, fresh pussy and now you want more.”
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Relax. I’m just messing with you.”
Trent rested his hand on my shoulder; I shrugged it off. I was getting sick of his idiotic Frat Boy attitude.
“Why are you so sensitive lately? Those two broads really did a number on your head.”
I wanted him to shut up. I considered leaving the bar, but something kept me firmly in place. Maybe it was the alcohol buzzing through my head.
“What the fuck would you know about it? When’s the last time you had feelings for a girl? Or for anyone, for that matter?”
“Dude, chill. I’m sorry your girl is ghosting you. Though, you have to admit, it is kind of funny. I mean, here I was telling you to ghost her and she was the one who decided to fuck and run. Who would’ve thought?”
“I fail to see the humor in it.”
“Of course you don’t see the humor in it. You made the bonehead move of falling for the girl.”
“I haven’t fallen for her,” I said lamely.
My fingers itched to check my phone again. What if Genevieve had responded while Trent and I were sitting here arguing?
I ran a hand through my hair and yawned. One more sleepless night and I was going to lose my mind. The girl had gotten under my skin. I would never give Trent the satisfaction of knowing he was right, but there it was. I had fallen for Genevieve.
“It must sting,” he said. “Especially losing that ring. How much did it cost?”
I shrugged. Thinking about the money Val had stolen to buy the ring made me sick.
“Twenty grand?” he asked.
I didn’t respond.
“More?” he said, nearly spitting out his drink.
According to my credit card statement, it had cost thirty six thousand dollars with tax.
“You gotta get the ring back,” Trent said. “Or call the police. I mean, I know you’re loaded. Losing that money is just a drop in the bucket for you, but it’s the principle of thing. Val needs to be taught a lesson. She can’t just steal from you without repercussions. Think of the next poor bastard she tries to rob. You need to put a stop to this now for the sake of men everywhere.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. Maybe that was why I kept Trent around. No matter how bad things became, he always had a way of making me smile.
“I don’t want her
to go to jail.”
“You can always threaten her with the police. Maybe it will scare her straight. Of course, that would mean talking to her and well that may not be such a good idea. Every time you talk to her things end up taking a turn for the worse.”
“Exactly. Maybe I should just cut my losses and move on.”
“Maybe.”
Trent’s eyes narrowed, like he was thinking about something intensely.
“What?” I asked.
“Let me go talk to Val. I’ll arrange a meeting somewhere and-”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“You need a middleman. Val won’t manipulate me; I can handle her.”
“You seriously underestimate Val.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll get the ring back.”
“No. I’m not joking Trent. Stay out of this.”
He sighed and picked up his beer. I grabbed his arm and squeezed.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Say it. Say: I will not get involved.”
I squeezed his arm harder.
“Ow! I will not get involved.”
I’d avoided mentioning the ring in my texts to Genevieve. The ring situation wasn’t her fault. I didn’t want her to feel responsible or angry. But maybe if I mentioned it, she would respond to me.
“I gotta go,” Trent said, rubbing his arm.
“Wait- my phone.”
He rolled his eyes and set it down on the bar.
“Do yourself a favor and forget about this girl. She’s nothing but trouble.”
I watched Trent leave and wondered if he was right. It was too late though. I found myself texting Genevieve again.
‘I need to see you. Bring the ring or I’ll be forced to contact the police.’
I hit Send and instantly felt dirty. It was wrong to manipulate her this way, but she was driving me mad. I would never call the cops on Genevieve, but if it got her to respond then… who was I kidding? It was wrong.
I picked up the phone to send a second text apologizing and asking her to forgive me. Before I could type a message Genevieve responded.
