Love Me, Love Me Not (Incongruent Figures #1)

by S. M. Koz

  “One of your friends?”

  “Yes, a hypothetical friend.”

  “Well, your hypothetical friend is probably very frightened right now.”

  “Yes.”

  “First and foremost, she needs to be open and honest with her parents. As hard as it will be to tell them, they can help her get through this. There are a lot of decisions that need to be made. She needs to understand the pros and cons of each before jumping into anything. If she decides to have the baby, she’s going to need help, both physically and emotionally. Is the hypothetical father willing to play a role?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good. His support will be very beneficial.”

  “How would you feel if one of your kids told you something like this?” I ask.

  “I’d … be understanding,” he says slowly, as though he’s carefully selecting his words. “It’s never something a parent wants to hear when their kids are still in high school, but it is a reality for many teens. Parents need to educate their children on the options and then support their decision.”

  “What would Gigi think?”

  He smiles. “She’d probably be ecstatic. I hate to say it, but she’d love to have a baby around the house and since it’s not coming from her, she’d likely welcome a grandchild with open arms, regardless of the circumstances.”

  So, Brad has nothing to worry about. His parents are just as amazing as him and they’re going to take his news in stride. I need to tell him about this conversation to ease his nerves a bit. It’s not going to be nearly as bad as he thinks.

  Unfortunately, I don’t get the chance to tell him. My marathon date with Gil lasted two hours, eventually turning to lighter topics than my hypothetical question. We discussed his childhood, TV shows, and then he shared with me some of the stupid things he did in college. It ended up being laid back and fun, not nearly as awkward as I thought it’d be.

  When we returned home, Brad wasn’t there and he didn’t show for dinner. Gigi said he texted her and asked to eat at Adam’s since he was studying for a big test the next day. I doubt that. More likely, he was avoiding his family. I stay up late waiting for him, but he never shows, which makes me think he’s staying the night at Adam’s.

  I eventually decide to talk to him tomorrow evening after his practice. Once I tell him how Gil reacted to my questions, hopefully he’ll feel much better about breaking the news himself.

  Chapter 22

  bRAD

  Mom’s in the kitchen making Brunswick stew when I get home. I throw my gym bag on the floor of the laundry room, then hang my backpack on the hook in the hallway.

  “Hey, honey,” she says, looking over her shoulder as she stirs the pot. “How was your big test?”

  “Brutal.”

  There was no test, but school was brutal. The rumor mill is already working on Michelle’s pregnancy. True to her word, though, no one seems to know anything about who the dad is. I still had to put up with all the people coming up to me and asking if I had heard. Every time, it was like a hot poker straight to my eye, reminding me of what a complete mess I’ve made.

  “What about practice? I bet coach is pushing y’all hard, trying to get ready for the playoffs.”

  “Yeah.” He did push us hard, but I pushed myself harder. With each lap around the track or flight of stairs, some of the anger and anxiety dissipated. Now I’m spent, from the emotional toll of the last two days and the physical toll of practice.

  “Where’s Hailey?” I ask, sitting at the table. I stayed at Adam’s last night and then didn’t see her all day at school. I miss her. I know that’s ridiculous—it’s only been a day—but it’s true. I’ve had to pretend I’m fine all day long when there’s a freaking tornado running rampant inside me. She’d get it.

  “At Brittany’s doing homework. She should be home soon. Please don’t be so angry with your father about Hailey.”

  I am angry at him, but not as much as she thinks. My hostility yesterday was misdirected because I had just received the news from Michelle. Still, I think I’d be able to handle the news a little better if Hailey and I didn’t have to pretend that there’s nothing between us.

  “I don’t understand what the big deal is,” I say, lowering my head on the table. “She’s allowed to date. I’m tons better than a lot of her options.” Well, I used to be. Now, I’m not so sure. For as much of a dick Chase is, he never got her pregnant.

  “Doesn’t it seem a little weird to you, though? She’s like your sister.”

  “No, she’s not. She was never going to seem like my like sister.”

  “You really like her?”

  “Yes.”

  “May’s not that long to wait.”

  “I love how something magical happens on May 10th, so that it’s all okay.”

  “Brad, you’re eighteen. She’s seventeen and in our care. Look at this through an objective lens. It could be construed that you forced her into something. You’d be considered an adult; she’d be considered a juvenile.”

  Suddenly, it all makes sense. In addition to their concern about DSS, they’re worried about me being accused of raping a juvenile and earning myself a nice, long prison sentence. Little do they know, Michelle could accuse me of the same thing. I was eighteen and one day old when we slept together and she was just shy of seventeen.

  “That wouldn’t happen,” I say with sigh. I meant it when I told Hailey I was not having sex again for a long, long time.

  “Hopefully not, but a little precaution goes a long way.”

  I roll my eyes, but wish she had told me that about six weeks ago. Sometimes a little precaution isn’t enough.

  The front door opens and then slams shut. I hear some shuffling and then Hailey enters the kitchen. She smiles at me and says hello to my mom, then passes into the hallway where she hangs her backpack. While she’s doing that, Mom grabs a plain brown paper bag from the counter and says, “Can I talk to you for a second, Hailey?”

  “Sure,” she replies from around the corner.

  “Meet me in the dining room.”

  They go in there and I hear some hushed whispers, but I can’t make out any of the words. While they’re talking, Dad enters the kitchen. He pauses when he sees me, his body stiffening in response. We haven’t talked since breakfast yesterday.

  “Hey,” I say. “Sorry for being an ass yesterday.”

  “Thanks. Is everything okay?”

  I shrug my shoulders. Everything is most definitely not okay, but I’m still not ready to tell him.

  “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

  “Sure.” Except this. I can’t handle the judgmental stare this bit of news will bring.

  He begins opening cabinets and assembling plates, glasses, and silverware to set the table. He brings them over to me and I spread them out. Just as I finish, Hailey and Mom return. Hailey’s face is beet red, but Mom looks like her normal, professional self in a gray sweater, black pants, and her diamond jewelry. She checks on the stew while Hailey meets my gaze, as if she wants to tell me something.

  Dad sits down opposite me with his back to her. When he does, she pulls a small rectangular box out of the paper bag and points to it while pursing her lips and tilting her head. I get the impression she’s not happy, but I’m not sure why.

  I squint my eyes to read the label.

  “Shit,” I mumble. “Why’d you give Hailey a pregnancy test, Mom?”

  I guess Hailey didn’t expect me to say something because she drops the box back in the bag and scoots toward the door.

  No one says anything, so I add, “She’s not pregnant.”

  Dad clears his throat and then says, “We just wanted to be sure.”

  “I think it was my fault, Brad,” Hailey says, her face growing an even darker shade of red. “I was talking to your dad yesterday about a hypothetical situation to see how they think parents should react to the news of a teenage pregnancy.”

  “Hypothetical situati
ons usually aren’t so hypothetical,” Dad says.

  “Brad’s right. I don’t need this,” Hailey says. “There’s no way I’m pregnant.”

  “Why don’t you give it to your hypothetical friend,” Gigi replies, patting her on the shoulder.

  “The hypothetical friend doesn’t need it,” I say. “She’s already cleared the shelf of tests at Harris Teeter.”

  Mom carries the pot of stew to the table and then she and Hailey sit down. Hailey tucks the bag under her chair and then lightly rubs my knee as she sits back up. She offers me a small smile before spooning some stew onto her plate.

  “Your hypothetical friend is going to need a lot of support right now,” Dad says, looking at me and then at Hailey. “If there’s anything we can do to help, let us know.”

  “Sure thing,” I reply, forking Mom’s signature dish into my mouth.

  After an awkward few minutes of silence, Mom asks, “It’s not Abbie is it?” She’s like an aunt to Abbie and Adam, so I’m sure she’s worried about them. Now that she thinks Hailey is clear, she’s going to focus on Abbie.

  “No,” I reply, shaking my head to ease her concerns.

  “Good.”

  She takes a sip of sweet tea and then taps her fingers on the wooden table top. She wants to know who it is, but is trying to be the good, unmeddling parent.

  “It’s none of your business, Gigi,” Dad says, sensing the same thing.

  “I know,” she snaps. “I’d just like to be prepared for when the rumors start spreading amongst the parents. You don’t have to deal with all the nosy moms, Gil.”

  “You’re being pretty nosy yourself,” he points out.

  “It’s okay,” I say with a sigh. “Everyone at school knows. You could easily find out through the grapevine tonight if you wanted to. It’s Michelle.”

  She pulls her hand to her mouth and her eyes soften. “Oh, poor girl,” she whispers. “She still has another year of high school. It’s going to be really tough for her.”

  “Yep,” I reply, stuffing more food into my mouth.

  “Does she know what she’s going to do?” Dad asks.

  “Not yet.”

  “How did her parents react?” Mom asks.

  “Lots of crying.”

  “Well, I hope she has the baby,” Mom says. “As hard as it will be for her, I can’t imagine the long-term consequences of an abortion.”

  “That’s what I said,” Hailey adds.

  “She’s lucky she has such loyal friends. Y’all need to stick by her through this, do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply without thinking in response to her tone. It’s an automatic reply that was ingrained into me from about the age of two.

  Hailey covertly squeezes my knee again. I look at her and she tilts her head toward my parents. I know she wants me to tell them, but I’m not ready.

  I shake my head and focus back on my meal.

  “May Brad and I be excused for a second? I really need to tell him something.”

  “Of course,” Mom says, but Dad looks leery.

  I follow her into the living room where she puts her hands on her hips and says, “You have to tell them.”

  “Not today.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “Hell to freeze over?”

  “Be serious, Brad. I think they’ll be much more understanding than you expect.”

  “What gives you that impression?”

  “When I talked to your dad yesterday, he said parents should be supportive and respect their children’s decision while providing guidance to insure they make those decisions with the best available information.”

  “That sounds like something he would say.”

  “He never said the parents should disown their children.”

  “I know he won’t disown me. He’ll just be disappointed in me. Really, really, really, really disappointed in me.”

  “And then he’ll get over it and remember all the great stuff you’ve done and will continue to do.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Come on,” she says, pulling me by the arm back to the table.

  It’s silent after we sit down. In fact, it’s silent for the rest of the meal. When Mom and Dad get up and start clearing the table, I stay in my chair, leaning back on the rear legs and stretching my feet out in front of me.

  “Something you want to talk about?” Dad asks when he removes the last glass.

  “No.”

  Hailey kicks my foot that’s closest to her.

  “Ow …” I mumble, giving her a dirty look.

  “Hailey, are you going to do the dishes tonight?” Mom asks, standing at the sink. Hailey’s done them every night she’s been here, so I’m sure Mom’s confused by why she’s still sitting at the table.

  “Yes, in a minute.”

  “I’m going to call Andrea,” Mom says, referring to Adam and Abbie’s mom. As much as she doesn’t want to seem like a nosy gossip, she is. At least with her closest friend. She starts to leave the room and then stops. “Oh, wait, I forgot to ask. Has Michelle said who the father is?”

  I inwardly groan. This is the opening I should use.

  “Not officially,” Hailey replies. “But …”

  That gets Mom’s attention and she sits down opposite us again. Dad stands at the counter, checking his phone now that our meal is finished.

  “Who?” Mom whispers, leaning in toward Hailey.

  “It’s not really my place to say,” she answers.

  “Of course not.”

  Mom looks at me, as if I’ll spill all the juicy details. I hold her gaze. And continue to hold it. And continue to hold it. Then I feel something I haven’t felt in at least thirteen years. My eyes start stinging and I have to fight back tears. Damn tears. What kind of eighteen year old man starts crying in front of his mom?

  The silence is broken by the metallic clank of her bracelets hitting the table as she drops her hands. Her shoulders sag and her entire face drops.

  “Oh, Brad,” she whispers. I always knew she was the quicker one of my parents. I didn’t have to say a thing, but she knows.

  She pulls her hands up to her mouth, then drops them again. Without saying anything, she stands, walks to the sink, and starts rinsing dishes.

  “What’s going on?” Dad asks, looking up from his phone.

  I don’t say anything. He looks from me to Hailey to Mom.

  “He’s the father, Gil,” she says tersely.

  His body and face show no reaction at all. It’s almost like he didn’t hear her. He stands still, then pivots and walks out of the room. Mom follows him, and then it’s just me and Hailey at the table.

  “That … was weird,” Hailey says.

  “He’s taking time to calm down, so he can talk to me in a rationale matter, not from an emotional position,” I inform her. He’s only acted like this a couple times and looking back, it was over relatively inane stuff. A minor fender bender. A stolen street sign. Those were nothing compared to this.

  “How long will he take?”

  “In the past, it’s only been about ten minutes. I bet this will be longer, though.”

  “I’m proud of you,” she says, rubbing my back. “I know how nervous you were, but you did the right thing.”

  “I didn’t actually tell them. You realize that, right?”

  “Yes, but the information was relayed one way or another. That’s all that mattered.”

  “You shouldn’t be touching me,” I say, but hope she doesn’t remove her hand.

  “I know.”

  “I wanted to see you all day.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Please sit with us at lunch.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m worried we’ll act like a couple.”

  “So? My parents aren’t there. They won’t know.”

  “Someone might tell your parents. You saw how fast the word spread about M
ichelle. As soon as it gets out that you’re the dad, people will be focused on you and what you’re doing. The fact that you have no interest in your baby’s mother and have already started dating someone else would definitely make it into the nosy mother’s gossip ring.”

  I know she’s right and anything between us would make the rumors even worse, but I don’t like it. I was hoping we could be careful at home but more ourselves at school. Having to settle for a few stolen glances or touches here and there is not going to cut it.

  “We need to figure out a plan,” I say.

  “May 10th,” she replies, removing her hand and making me feel very alone again.

  “No. I need you to help me through this.”

  “I’ll be here every step of the way. I’m not going anywhere unless your parents kick me out, which is why we need to abide by their rules.”

  “I want to kiss you right now.”

  “That’s sweet,” she says, smiling. “Knowing you want to is almost as good as the real thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe that’s the trick. We’ll just talk about what we’d like to be doing.”

  “There’s a name for that.”

  “Really?”

  “Sexting.”

  “Oh,” I reply, smiling. “I wasn’t thinking about that much detail, but it’s a thought. It’s safer than the real thing at least.” I could definitely get on board with that if she were willing.

  “I don’t have a phone.”

  “Which needs to change.”

  “I’m not sure I want to spend my allowance on one.”

  “Christmas is coming up. What if I got you an early gift?” I already know the answer, but I throw it out there anyway, hoping she’ll surprise me.

  “You need to save your money for your baby.”

  “Ugh,” I groan. It’s the expected answer, but she didn’t have to throw in the part about the baby. “You certainly know how to ruin a pleasant discussion.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I bet we can convince Mom and Dad to get you one. They pay for mine, saying it’s necessary so they can get in touch with me whenever they want.”

  “I would never ask or expect them to do that.”

  “I’ll do it, then.”