by Moss, Brooke
“I’m pregnant.”
My voice seemed to echo, despite the walls being lined with plush toys. Maybe it just sounded that way in my head. I couldn’t be sure.
All sound, all movement, in the house ceased, and every single pair of eyes locked on my face.
Shakily, I brought the picture of my kidney-bean-like baby out from under the table, and placed it next to the pot of still-hot cheddar ham soup. It felt like my mother’s house had slipped into a time/space continuum. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. I was pretty sure nobody was breathing, either.
Darren was the first to break the unbearably uncomfortable silence. “Finally someone else is the family screw up.” And with that, he stood up, tucked his cell phone into his pants pocket, and kissed the top of my mother’s unmoving head. “Thanks for dinner, Ma.”
As soon as the backdoor shut behind him, my mother blinked a few times, as if coming out of a trance. Her cheeks were the exact same shade of pink as her circa nineteen eighties glasses lenses, and her forefinger came down onto the tabletop with a definitive thump.
“Where did you get this picture?” she asked hoarsely.
“My obstetrician. Dr. Haybee.” My eyes flicked over to Corbin, who’d put his hand over his wife’s, and was now looking down at the remainder of his soup with an ill expression.
You’re not the only one, buddy, I lamented silently.
“I thought you saw my gynecologist.” My mother’s voice was low and precise. “Nobody told me you’d switched.”
I sat up straight in my chair and laced my fingers together. “No, Mom. I’m going to see Dr. Haybee through my pregnancy. Candace loves him, and he’s friends with Brian.”
“You’re going to see him through…” She pressed her lips together. “Your pregnancy?”
One nod. Slow and steady. “Yes, Mom. My pregnancy.”
Her eyes flicked to my unadorned ring finger. “Did you get married to someone and not tell me?”
I almost laughed. Almost. “Of course not.”
“Who’s the father?”
This was the first time I’d heard my big brother’s voice since dropping the bomb, and it sounded positively deadly.
I looked at him. “There is no father.”
“I’m not playing games with you,” he repeated carefully, apparently in full-on protective older brother mode. “Who is the father?”
What next, the shotgun and a forced engagement? I straightened my shoulders and jutted my chin out. This was going to be a hard bone for my friends and family to stop chewing on. That much was clear already. “There is no father. He isn’t in the picture. He won’t be in the picture. You should erase him from the scenario completely. I have.”
“He sure as hell will be, once I’m through with him,” Corbin growled.
I did my best to return my big brother’s icy stare. “No. He won’t. And the subject is off limits from now on. Is that clear?”
We had a silent stand off lasting for around ten seconds before my mother stood up. Her chair fell backwards into a Cabbage Patch Kid wearing denim overalls. “Alexandria Patsy Baump! You mean to tell me that you’re knocked up and not even going to marry the father!?”
“Yes.” My voice was shaking. Tears started to fill my eyes like a clogged gutter. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“What am I going to tell the Disciples of Christ Committee? Or the Bible study class? They’re not going to let me stay in the presidency if I’ve got an unwed daughter who’s having a child all alone! What kind of an example will that be?” She started pacing, knocking down two more dolls and not even bothering to pick them up. She was really upset with me this time. “What will Pastor Irm say? It’s bad enough that you’re divorced, now you’re going to be some sort of single mother?”
“Mom, you’re a single mother.” My voice came out shriller than I would have preferred.
“Because my husband was taken from me by the good Lord, not because I exercised poor judgment on a lonely night!” she shrieked, throwing her arms out.
My head jerked backwards like I’d been slapped.
Andrea gasped, her first sound in a good five minutes.
“Okay, that’s enough. Mom, sit down, so we can all talk about this.” Corbin took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes again. “Aw, hell, Lex. I thought you were going to say you had cancer.”
My mouth dropped open. “You wanted me to have cancer?”
Andrea jumped in, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Of course he didn’t. I think we should start at the beginning. So…how far along are you?”
I drew in a shaky breath. “Ten weeks and a few days.”
“And you’ll raise the baby yourself?” There was a spark of jealousy in her brown eyes, but she kept it at bay and forced a small smile.
“Yes. I’m…” I looked at my mother, and my tears finally spilled over. “I’m happy. I know it’s crazy, and I know it will be difficult. But when Nate left me, and Marisol and I started the catering business, I honestly thought I would never be a mother.” My hands went to my flat tummy. “This is my chance, you guys.”
My mother watched me with a frown. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. You have no idea how hard it is to raise a child with two parents, let alone one. You’re being foolish.”
“You know what?” I stood up from the table, taking my picture back, and tucking it into my back pocket. “I’m ready to learn. I’m ready to be responsible for someone other than myself. And…” I wiped my nose on my napkin. “I really hope you’ll all support me.”
I looked down at Corbin and Andrea, who both looked like they’d fallen off their ladders at work and had the wind knocked out of their lungs. “I never meant to hurt you guys. I didn’t plan for this to happen.”
Corbin nodded. “I know, Lex.”
I turned my gaze to my mother. “I’m gonna go now. I feel like I’m going to hurl, and I think you need some time to process this.” I started towards the door, and nobody made a move to stop me. Just as I was about to turn the handle, I looked back at my mother, who was still standing at the end of the table with a hand pressed to her chest.
“I’m sorry, Ma.”
Chapter Four
“Hey you! I didn’t know you were coming.” Candace held her front door open so I could enter, and I skulked past her with my head hanging low.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. My nose was still stuffed from weeping as I drove the eight miles between my mother’s house and hers.
“Hey, have you been crying?” She shut the door behind me. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” I crossed through her foyer to her kitchen amidst a chorus of cheers exploding in the next room. “I’m sorry. Do you have company? I can come by after work tomorrow.”
Candace just shook her head and pointed at a chair. A tray covered in a variety of meats and cheeses rested on the table. “Sit down. You’re always welcome here. Have a snack.”
Eyeballing the meats, I tried not to inhale and sat as far away from the tray as possible. Another rouse of applause came from the living room. “Seriously. Did I come at a bad time?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. The Seahawks are spanking the Patriots. Brian and all of his friends are losing their minds.”
“It’s a miracle.” I picked up a napkin and wiped my eyes. “When is Brian going to accept that the Seahawks suck?”
“I heard that.” Brian’s voice echoed in the living room, amidst the chatter of all of his friends.
“Sorry, Bri.” I laughed.
“They’re not sucking today.” Candace sat down across from me. “So.” She propped her chin on her fist. “You told your mom tonight.”
I looked at her strangely. “How did you know?”
She shrugged. “Aunt Patsy called my mom. My mom called me. She was ticked off that I already knew your big news.”
“Sorry to disappoint her.” Aunt Dory liked to be the bearer of any and all juicy gossip. I looked at the platter we
arily. “Can you move that?”
“You know, if you eat some protein, you’d probably feel better.”
My nostrils flared. “I don’t think so. Nothing makes me feel better.”
“That just means you have a very healthy baby in there.” Candace’s eyes sparkled.
I smiled despite my roiling stomach. “Healthy or not, I’d like to be able to get through a meal. I couldn’t even eat my mother’s soup.”
“What kind? Patsy makes such good soup.”
“Cheddar ham.” I closed my eyes and willed the memory out of my head. Even just remembering the smell made me ill.
“Oh, darn. That’s good soup.” She plucked a slice of summer sausage off of the tray and popped it in her mouth. “How long’s it been since you’ve eaten a full meal?”
I thought for a moment. The days since finding out I was pregnant had started to blur together. I’d eaten. I was sure of it. I mean, so what if most of my bites were tiny tastes while I was preparing food at Sweets & Eats, to make sure I’d not over-salted the chicken salad, or made the crème brulee to sweet. That was eating, wasn’t it? So what if every time I smelled anything resembling a cucumber, I ran to the restroom with my hand cupped over my mouth? I’d been eating. Sort of.
Oh hell, who was I kidding? It’d been weeks since I’d consumed a meal. Which was a real drag, considering how much I loved food.
“A long time,” I confessed.
The men in the living room erupted in cheers.
“Here.” Candace plucked a few pieces of each kind of meat off of the tray and placed them on a napkin for me. “Why don’t you try to eat something, and we’ll talk about how it went at your mom’s place?”
I accepted her offering and nibbled on a slice of salami. “It went down in a ball of flames. You already know that.”
She nodded. “Tell me what happened.”
“Well, for starters, I think my family would have been happier if I’d announced I have cancer.” I took another bite and chewed it slowly. “My mother cried. And accused me of having a one night stand.”
One of Candace’s eyebrows rose high on her face. “Well, didn’t you?”
I looked down at the meat in my hand. “No. Well, sort of. But not really.”
“Good Lord, I can’t take it anymore. Marisol and I are losing our minds.” She balled her hands into fists. “Can’t you please tell us who it was? This whole vow of secrecy thing is really making me nuts. Spill it.”
Shaking my head, I took another bite. “No. It’s not up for discussion.”
She snatched a piece of ham off of the tray and chomped on it furiously. “Marisol thinks it was the president. She says that’s the only reason why you would have to keep it such a secret.”
I glared at my cousin. “The president? Really? And when in the world would I have had time to fly to Washington DC to have an affair with the president?”
Candace threw up her hands. “I don’t know! Then the mayor. The mayor of Spokane? Or the governor of Washington State.”
“Would you stop it, please?” I sighed, exasperated. “First off, the governor of Washington is a woman. You voted for her. And second, I don’t even know the mayor. Now stop.”
“Whatever. But don’t think I’m letting this go.”
“Oh, I don’t expect you will.” I forced a smile. “New subject.”
She chewed her ham. “So once they knew you didn’t have cancer, how did they take it?”
I shuddered. “The Patsy Baump drama was on high tonight. She said that she would be kicked out of the presidency of her church group.”
“Which one?” Candace licked her fingers.
“Oh, I don’t know. She’s in about a hundred of them.”
“True. Did she bring up Pastor Irm?”
I gave Candace a long look. “Doesn’t she always bring up Pastor Irm?”
Her hand came down on the table with a slap, and she released a loud laugh. “I knew it! I told my mom Aunt Patsy would bring up Irm, and Mom said I needed to respect my elders.”
“Why does everyone act like they don’t see it?”
My brothers and I had all had plenty of time to get accustomed to the idea of our mother being interested in a man other than our father, but she preferred to play the martyr, carrying a picture of my deceased father in her purse the way a Catholic woman carries rosary beads. Everyone in the congregation saw the flirtation between my sixty-year-old mother and the seventy-year-old widower, Pastor Irmingham Jones. But when asked, my mother remained firm: she was a grieving widow, and would be until her last breath.
What a headache.
“So what about your brothers? Was Darren glad it was you who got pregnant instead of Panda?” Candace chuckled.
“Pandi,” I corrected. “And yes. I think he’ll enjoy being out of the spotlight for a while.”
Candace’s smile dropped. “What about Corbin and Andrea? How did they take it?”
Tears pricked my eyes. “That was the worst part. They looked so distraught. Andrea didn’t talk for the first five minutes.”
She covered my hand with her own. “I’m sorry. I know you never meant to hurt them.”
Swiping my eyes, I popped the last bit of salami into my mouth chewed sadly. “I knew it was coming. I got what I deserved.”
“What you deserved? Are you kidding? It’s not like you did this on purpose.” Candace eyeballed me. “Wait, did you?”
I put my hands up. “No. I didn’t plan this at all.”
“Well, even if you did, you don’t have to make apologies for it just because Corbin and Andrea can’t have kids. I mean, it’s unfortunate they can’t, but you can’t avoid having your own children because you’re afraid of making them feel bad. I don’t think they’d want you to do that, anyway.”
“No. They wouldn’t.” I dabbed at my eyes again. “They just looked so crushed. And my mom was pacing back and forth, chastising me for being unmarried.”
“I expected that to happen, too.”
“I know. I was just hoping she would surprise me.” The rolling in my stomach returned and I pushed my napkin back. “It’s like she’s more concerned about her reputation at church than the fact she’s finally going to get the grandchild she’s been begging for since I was eighteen.”
Candace grimaced. Being daughters in this family came at a price. Emotional perseverance. “She’ll come around. She always does.”
Sniffling, I nodded. “I hope so. Because once I saw that ultrasound…” The lump in my throat grew to big to ignore, so I stopped speaking.
Her fingers squeezed mine. “Pretty magical, huh?”
I looked up, my eyes spilling over again. We were going to need more napkins. “Yes. Just seeing that little heart flashing. It…” When I realized Candace’s eyes were moist now, too, I knew I was in good company. “Everything just fell into perspective. This isn’t a mistake. This is a miracle.”
“That’s beautiful.” Her voice cracked and she pushed the napkin back over to me. “Come on. Try to eat a little more.”
As soon as the odor of the salami hit my nose, my mouth began to water, and what little I’d eaten began crawling up the back of my throat. “Ugh,” I moaned, covering my mouth. “No more.”
As soon as Candace saw that my expression, her eyes widened. “Are you gonna get sick?”
“No.” I wrapped my arms around my middle and sat very still for a heartbeat or two. “Aw, hell. Yes.”
I bolted for the powder room right off of the kitchen, but halted when Candace shouted, “Wait! Not that bathroom! Quentin flushed a block this morning, and Brian has to fix it! Go upstairs, go upstairs!”
Bile filled my mouth, and I clamped my fingers down, trying to hold the vomit at bay as I charged through the living room. Frustrated cries of several men rang out when I temporarily blocked their view of the flat screen. I clambered up the stairs to the second floor bathroom, and was met by a commode tightly shut with a child lock. My body heaved forward as I fumbled w
ith one hand to unlatch the lid, but it kept landing back down on the seat with a loud thunk. With each unsuccessful attempt, my stomach lurched, filling my mouth with vomit.
Lurch. Thunk. Lurch. Thunk.
This whole pregnancy thing was for the damn birds.
Finally the lid broke open, sending pieces of the plastic lock flying in all directions.
Woops. Guess I’ll be replacing that later.
I buried my face in the porcelain bowl and relieved myself of everything I’d either tasted or eaten since the third grade. The sound of the football game raging downstairs was drowned out by my coughing and sputtering.
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” I asked my little kidney bean, my voice echoing against the dirtied water.
“You okay?” A deep voice asked.
I felt a warm hand touch my back, and I nodded, my forehead bumping against the seat. “Yeah. Just feeling a bit under the weather. Sorry to ruin your party, Bri.”
“It’s not Brian.”
I lifted my head the tiniest bit. Crap on a stick, it was Dr. Fletcher Haybee—in all of his denim shirt wearing, tousled blond hair glory!
Fumbling to flush the toilet, I snatched a piece of toilet paper off the nearby roll to wipe my mouth. Leave it to Brian and Candace to invite the gorgeous obstetrician who just had his face in my junk over for a football game and cold cuts.
“I…uh…uh…” My mind was blank. Completely blank. I’d never been caught vomiting by a hot doctor before.
Fletcher knelt down and took hold of my wrist. “Having a lot of nausea?” He grew quiet and looked at his watch. It occurred to me that he was taking my pulse.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought my child hates me, and wants to slowly kill me from the inside out.” I leaned against the toilet and blew my hair off my forehead. It felt like I’d thrown up at least two major organs.
He chuckled, the sound low and gravelly. It made my empty and twisted belly heat up like a fire pit. “Are you able to keep anything down at all?”
Sweat soaked the hair at the nape of my neck, and I suddenly realized how terrible I must have looked. Curse my ultra-white skin and freckles. Whenever I’d thrown up as a kid, I turned a pasty shade of gray, and my nose got splotchy and red.