by Kat T. Masen
With Mom still going on about breastfeeding versus bottle feeding, I scramble to send him a text before she realizes I’m not paying attention.
Me: Pack a new set of ears. My mom has not stopped talking since I got here. Apparently, I should be looking at colleges now because there’s a waiting list.
The exhaustion from traveling finally catches up with me, so I excuse myself to take a short nap. I wake up in a blind panic and disorientated realizing I have slept through to the morning. My mom didn’t even have the heart to wake me. The time on my phone says eight, and another text is sitting on my homescreen.
Haden: We, Presley. We should be looking. We’re both parents to this baby.
Huh? There is no time to think about his text as I race out of bed and into the shower. Within minutes, I’ve hopped out and dressed in a simple white dress that sits a lot shorter than normal. With my wedges on and my hair tied into a bun to avoid the sweltering heat, I make my way downstairs. The aroma of pancakes lingers in the air, which can only mean one thing—maple syrup. I’m eating for two, and boy does my mother stack them on the plate.
As predicted, my mom eyes my dress. “That dress is a bit short, don’t you think?”
Rolling my eyes at her, the stupid side of me mentions that I haven’t really purchased any maternity wear apart from that black dress. With a light bulb going off in her head, she rushes to the bottom of the stairs.
“I’ve got a box of stuff in the attic. George,” she yells to my dad.
Why, oh why, did I say that? I just know she’ll pull out some muumuu with a horrific pattern from the ‘80s.
“I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She darts out of the room, leaving me alone with my almost finished stack of pancakes.
Knowing Haden will be here soon, I use the moment to relax and read the local paper. Nothing much has changed, a few new marriages and births, but as usual, the town carries on without much excitement. There is a whole page about a carnival coming in for the night. Sounds like fun if you’re ten.
My mom is talking to herself again, carrying some boxes down the stairs. The sound of an engine pulls up at the house, and I look at my mom to see her reaction. She has her stern parental face on, and Dad is walking down the stairs with his rifle in hand. All right, he doesn’t, and that’s a bit overboard, but I do know he has a pocketknife ready.
I wipe my mouth with the napkin and make my way to the porch. There is the sound of the trunk shutting closed and behind it, Haden appears. That stupid flutter, the one that gets all my panties in a twist, makes another appearance. With every fiber of my being, I’m trying to ignore how gorgeous he looks in his natural-colored denim shorts, light gray tee, and a pair of Chucks—my damn weakness. Jason hated them. He called them skater shoes and also wore Jesus sandals.
For someone who just traveled on a plane, he looks refreshed, his hair perfectly styled to the side, and a freshly shaven face. With a warm smile, he greets me, fully aware that my parents are standing right behind me.
“Mr. and Mrs. Malone, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reaches out his hand, but my mom embraces him instead. What the hell? What happened to this lecture on how utterly disappointed she was that such a young man would be irresponsible enough to have sex with an older woman, and if his parents didn’t teach him to have any morals, then maybe she should?
What a load of bullshit from the woman smiling and acting all friendly with him.
My dad, on the other hand… well, his face says it all.
“So, you’re the one who knocked up my poodle?”
Haden pulls away from my mom and looks at me confused. “Um, I like women, sir. I’m not into bestiality.”
“He means me,” I complain. “Dad has called me poodle since forever. You know, ’cause of my curly hair.”
“Oh… right, I get it. I guess I’m the one who knocked up your poodle then,” he says, amused.
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
“George, please. Let the boy at least place his bags down before you get all wound up.” My mom ushers him into the house, asking him how his trip went and if he wants a drink.
My dad, on the other hand, pulls me aside. “Jesus, poodle, is he still in college?”
“Dad!” I groan. “He’s twenty-six.”
“Back in my day, you didn’t marry women older than you.”
“Oh my God.” I stop him, raising my palm to his face. “Who the hell is talking about marriage here?”
“I just assumed because the two of you are single—”
“He’s not single. Have you not listened to Mom at all?”
“I try not to. It’s what happens when you’ve been married for forty years. You tend to zone out. Your mother could talk a glass eye to sleep,” he says, scratching his belly.
I ignore his ramblings and move on inside to join them in the kitchen. Mom has stacked a plate of pancakes in front of Haden. Looking quite pleased with his hefty appetite, she pours him some coffee, and I nearly grab the cup from him.
God, I miss it so much.
“Your sister will be arriving this afternoon with her friend, Melissa,” Mom tells us.
“My sister is a lesbian,” I mention casually to Haden.
“Presley Victoria Malone!” Mom scolds.
“Well, it’s the truth, Deidre,” Dad says with a mouthful of toast. “God gives ya what He gives ya. Gemma is a good girl.”
“So, you’re saying I’m not?”
“Poodle, truth be it… this baby wasn’t exactly planned. Besides, what happened with you two? Because Reverend Keith could sure have a word with the both of you.”
I groan at the mention of Reverend Keith. If my parents’ grand plan is to try to marry me off to the Jerk, it’s time to set the record straight. Unlike my usual opinionated self, I struggle to get a single word out and look at Haden for answers. His eyes lift while grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth. My gaze wanders down to his full lips, glazed in maple syrup. Gliding his tongue along his lips, his eyes continue to watch me with a quizzical stare.
Oh my God, Presley, look away. I shake my head to pull myself out of this pornographic maple syrup fantasy and focus on the question. We hadn’t really come up with a story, so I guess there’s no better way than stating the obvious, and Haden takes charge by leading the explanation.
“Presley and I have been friends for a while, but, of course, she was engaged. I’d always had a thing for her but respected her relationship. When she broke it off, I wanted to take things further.”
With a steady gaze, I look at him thinking what a lie he’s spun. Apparently, I hadn’t been privy to his talents yet.
“Presley has told us you’re engaged to someone else?” Mom interrogates.
“Yes, I am.”
This is probably the moment I need to throw him a lifejacket. But this is fun, so I sit back and watch the show unfold. Let’s see what other lie he can come up with.
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m out of place but marrying another woman when expecting a child is somewhat confusing?” Mom continues to pry.
Haden takes a long sip of his coffee and places the cup on the knitted coaster. “I can understand why you think that. Eloise came into my life before I knew about the baby.”
He shuffles awkwardly, so I throw him that much-needed lifejacket.
“Look, Mom and Dad, Haden and I had our fun and well… this is what happened. If you don’t mind, I’d like to give him a tour of the house, then maybe show him around town.”
I don’t wait for their response and motion for him to follow me. As soon as he catches on, we make our way upstairs, and I show him to the guest room.
“I’m apologizing in advance for the plaid. Mom is a little, um…”
He laughs. “She’s a mom. She’d get along great with my mom. It was the plaid generation.”
I let out a similar laugh. “And my sister, Gemma… sorry about blurting that out.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologiz
e for everything.”
I lean against the wall as he sorts out his bags. “This is weird.”
“Sure is. Look, it’s only a weekend… poodle.” He bursts out laughing again, then walks over to where I’m standing, allowing me to swat him across the arm.
“And ignore my dad. Laugh all you want, but if you saw me in bed, I represent a poodle vacationing in the tropics quite accurately.”
He stops laughing, and his expression looks pained.
“I guess I’m going to be seeing a lot of you. After all, you’re carrying my baby.”
My eyes move to the hideous plaid duvet. “The paternity test is booked for next Thursday.”
He doesn’t say a word, completely ignoring what I just said. “So, show me your room.”
“You want to see my room?”
“Yeah, I want to see who Presley Malone really is.”
I’m not sure exactly what he means, but I walk down the hall and open the door to my room. I moved out of here when I left for college, which feels like a lifetime ago. My parents really haven’t change it. It still has the single bed positioned in the middle of the room with a bookshelf above it. Sitting on the shelf are my favorite books, all-time classics that I read throughout my teens. And yes, somewhere buried in the row of books is my collection of The Babysitter’s Club. I walk toward the shelf and pull out the one book that was my bible as a teen.
“Have you ever read this?” I hand him the book.
“Forever by Judy Blume,” he says. “Can’t say I have.”
I take a seat by the bay window, and he follows me.
“I’d curl up in this exact spot and read it over and over again. I was so curious and wondered if I’d feel the same about a boy one day. You know, in love and wanting to have sex with him.”
He looks at me oddly, lips pressed together in a slight grimace, and doesn’t say anything.
“Too girly of a conversation for you?” I tease.
“Not at all,” he quips, lowering his gaze. “It’s part of teen sexuality. That curiosity. And so, then you obviously took the plunge one day?”
“I was seventeen, and it was at some party. Nothing more to tell other than it was over in a minute, and the guy moved away. His dad was in the military. And you?”
“And me, what?” He stares at me, confused.
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
“I don’t know… like twenty,” he mumbles.
“Twenty!” I raise my voice despite his embarrassed look. “I’m sorry. Twenty? Really? Isn’t that kinda old for your generation?”
“I wasn’t into girls at school. I had other things to worry about.”
“Like what?”
He quickly stands up and stretches his arms. “So, what do you want to do now?”
Once again, I’m taken aback by the swift change in subjects. Something I said, or the topic at hand, appears to be deeper than I thought. Not wanting to cause another argument, I let it go for now.
“How about a walk around town, then maybe lunch by the lake?” I offer.
“Sure, lead the way.”
My parents live in a small town east of Virginia. It was the same place I grew up in, and much like me, they don’t like change. Over the years, people have moved on, and the generations that followed occupy most of the town now. It is small, friendly, and mostly trouble-free.
Gemma was the first to fly the coop by skipping college altogether and heading out to California. From there, she enrolled in a few classes and met Melissa. My parents knew I didn’t like change, but college was a huge deal, and I knew if I wanted to pursue a career in publishing, I needed to head to the city.
“See that school across the street? That’s where I went.” I show him. “And that church, it was built by my great, great grandfather. I always dreamed of getting married there,” I say loudly, forgetting that he’s standing right beside me.
“Is that where you and what’s his face were getting married?” he asks with a bitter tone, while continuing to stare at the church.
“Jason, and no. Jason wanted to get married at his priest’s church out in Jersey.”
Since he has decided to bring up weddings, I can’t think of a better time to ask.
“And you? Eloise says you’ll be getting married soon.”
“Did she?” He appears agitated. “I don’t know. I don’t get involved.”
“But it’s your wedding,” I state, slightly confused.
“I’m just not interested in the finer details,” he tells me, hesitating a little.
“I know how you feel. I was excited about Jason proposing, but when it came time to planning, I lost interest. I guess that’s how I knew something wasn’t right. I always thought it would be the most exciting time in my life.”
He exhales, rolling his eyes like an immature brat. “That’s a stupid woman thing. Men don’t care. Plan all you want as long we’re told when and where to turn up, that’s all that matters. Oh, and the bachelor party.”
“Ugh, that’s such a guy thing. I don’t understand why you need to see strippers as a send-off into marriage. It’s not like you can do anything with the strippers. You’ve pretty much been tied down since the moment you asked someone on that first date,” I argue.
“You’re delusional. Do you know how many of my friends had sex with a stripper the night before their wedding?”
“Are… are you serious? First of all, I thought you weren’t even allowed to touch a stripper. Second, what’s the point of getting married, then? Just stay single and play the field.”
He stops mid-step, running his hands through his hair then turns to face me. “Some people don’t have a choice, Presley.”
I look at him and laugh. “Everyone has a choice, Haden. It’s called decision-making. It’s part of being a grown-up.”
Walking toward the park bench, we take a seat in front of the church.
“And now what? You’re going to have a baby. What about finding yourself someone?” he asks uncomfortably.
I hate this question because even when I ask myself the same thing, it always ends badly.
Cats. Cats… everywhere.
“I have no clue. I know why it’s good to be married while you’re pregnant,” I say without even thinking.
He turns to me, resting his arm along the top of the bench. “Why?”
“Why? We’re both adults. It’s not hard to figure out why. Pregnancy hands you a bag of hormones, and somehow, you’re expected to carry on and pretend it does not affect you whatsoever. Plus, everything is aching, swollen, and I swear, I’m this close to getting a membership at the sketchy massage joint downtown.”
Haden shakes his head while grinning. “You have no problem being honest, do you?”
“We crossed the secrets bridge when you took your pants off.”
“I think you took my pants off.” He smirks.
“What?” My cheeks are flushed, but it’s also hot out and below. “We were both drunk, but I swear it was all you.”
“I wasn’t drunk.”
I look at him. “Yes, you were.”
“I rode my bike. I never ride my bike if I’ve been drinking.”
I let out a panicked laugh. “I saw you drinking.”
“That was root beer.”
“I don’t get it, then. You weren’t drunk, but you…”
The penny drops, and I stare into his eyes to read the truth behind his admission. He wasn’t drinking. Therefore, he knew full well what he was doing. Unlike myself, I kind of just went with the flow, and let my body succumb to the moment. Does this mean he wanted it to happen? Did he plan for this to happen? Was what he said in my parents’ kitchen true?
“Presley…”
“Haden, what the hell does this mean?”
In a quick change of emotions, his momentary sympathetic expression changes as he sucks his cheeks in with a wide-eyed look. “I wasn’t drunk, but I was angry with you. That was it.”
“I
f you’re angry with someone, you throw a martini in their face or throw shade on social media. You don’t fuck them in the alley!” I turn to face away from him. Just when I thought there was more to this, he reminds me why I am a hormonal mess. The tears are building, and I watch the people strolling past as a distraction.
He places his hand on my shoulder as a kind gesture, but I shake it off, not wanting him to touch me. And so, we sit in silence for a very long time while I try to calm myself down. A good hour later, my stomach rumbles, and all I can think about is food.
“It’s done, okay?” I mumble, hoping to redeem myself. “How about we grab some lunch and head to the lake? My treat.”
Haden smiles cautiously, then stands to take his ringing phone out of his pocket. Excusing himself, he walks toward the tree, and the moment he answers the call, his face lights up. He then speaks, saying something about the wedding and honeymoon, but shortly after, his smile fades, and an argument erupts.
“I told you I don’t want to go there. Why won’t you fucking listen to me?”
He is talking loudly enough for me to hear the conversation, but I pretend to be engrossed in the kids running near the church entrance, ignoring the pang inside my chest.
“Eloise, I don’t give a shit what you want. You said this wedding was going to be small and uncomplicated, not the splashy affair you’re turning it into.”
He is kicking the tree with the toe of his shoe and utters more words. “I need to go, okay?” His face softens again, and a small smile escapes him. “Yeah, me, too.”
I remember the ‘me, too’ at the end of the conversation. It’s the reply to ‘I love you.’
It’s like a stab into my fantasy bubble.
A reality check.
No matter what he does or says, he’s marrying her.
And I’m just the woman carrying his baby.
Fourteen
Awkward lunch partners. Someone should create a reality show based on that.
After returning from his phone call, something between us changes. Haden seems less friendly and almost annoyed that he was forced to have lunch with me. That, in turn, puts me in a foul mood. We still have another day left in each other’s company, so I take the mature approach. Or so I thought.