Hard Luck

by Sara Ney

  The good news is, he already knows she’s pregnant. Had he caught us in the act, it probably wouldn’t have been the worst. It would have been burned into his brain forever, but it’s not like he doesn’t know we already had sex.

  Shit, wait.

  I don’t think he knows it’s me who’s the baby’s father, and if he had suspicions or has suspicions, they’re going to be confirmed in a matter of minutes.

  Buzz shoves the door closed and almost clips me in the process, causing me to shift at the last second. His arm goes up and he points toward where I expect the living room to be, through an arched doorway at the back of the house.

  It’s not a giant house, nothing nearly as big as the one Buzz and his wife live in, but Tripp doesn’t strike me as the flashy type. He’s probably taken his football money and invested most of it rather than spent it on expensive cars, watches, and women.

  This is your typical, run-of-the-mill suburban house.

  True sidles up to me with a grimace on her face. “That was so awkward, I’m sorry. He’s like that sometimes, gets weird. I—”

  “Don’t apologize, babe. I know how he is. Are you forgetting I’ve seen his balls?”

  “That wasn’t necessary.” She laughs.

  “Pause.” Buzz interrupts us loudly, staring at me from behind the kitchen island, hands braced apart. “Did you just call her babe?”

  He heard that?

  What the hell—does the guy have spidey senses?

  “Did I?” It’s neither a confirmation nor a denial.

  “Yeah, you did.” His head tilts as he studies True and me as we fully enter the kitchen. “Care to tell me why?”

  Welp. So much for easing into this confession softly and without tension. Maybe getting him drunk will help? Sober Buzz is making me way too nervous.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if I wet my own pants from the nerves.

  This brotherly side of him is already getting on my last nerve, and I haven’t been in the house for more than two minutes.

  Nice welcoming committee.

  Not.

  “Why are you coming at me like this?” I stand on the opposite side of the counter now, mirroring his stance. It’s not that I want to be confrontational, but I’m certainly not going to back down when he’s trying to bully me.

  I have every right to be here; he just doesn’t know it yet.

  Dick.

  “Coming at you? This is my house—I can say what I want.”

  Tripp—who has been riffling through the refrigerator mostly ignoring me—rises to his full height and turns. “Um, this is my house. Stop being an asshole or you can leave.”

  I knew I liked the giant bastard.

  He has a stalk of celery in his hands, proceeds to the sink to wash it, then gets out a cutting board.

  We all turn as he causally begins slicing the celery into pieces large enough to dip in peanut butter, which he spoons from the container onto a plate.

  Crunch, crunch.

  His chewing fills the silence of the room before he swallows. “So, not to be rude, but what are you doing here?”

  True and I glance at one another.

  I’m not sure if I should start talking or let her start talking, since these are her brothers, her family members. Then again, I’m part of it too and want to be a united front, which puts it well within my rights to begin the conversation.

  Crap, I wish we’d gone into this with a game plan.

  “Maybe we should go sit in the living room,” True finally says, choosing her words carefully.

  “People only say that when they have bad news,” Buzz decides, not moving toward the living room.

  “It’s not bad news,” his sister explains, though we both know her brother isn’t going to think this is the same kind of good news we do. “Just come sit down and stop being stubborn.”

  “I’m not stubborn,” he grumbles, snatching a piece of celery from Tripp’s plate and begrudgingly stalking toward the room with the fireplace and television.

  He plops down in the recliner with his legs spread, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands.

  “Is he here because you invited him, or did Tripp invite him?” He’s cross-examining us before we have the chance to take seats on the couch.

  “Um, I did.” True says the words slowly.

  She glances at me with a shrug, unsure how to proceed.

  “Why?”

  “It’s complicated,” True says, twisting her hands as if wringing out a dish towel over the sink.

  “That’s what people say when they’re in a relationship but don’t want to admit they’re in a relationship,” her brother snorts, grabbing the remote control for the TV and pointing it at the fireplace, near where the TV is located.

  I take True’s delicate hand in mine and squeeze.

  You’ve got this.

  “If you’re not going to spit out the reason we’re all sitting here, I’m going to lose interest real quick.”

  Tripp lobs a pillow at him from the other couch, and it lands square in his face.

  “Put the remote down and pay attention, dipshit.”

  Buzz grumbles, but it’s clear Tripp has the authority amongst the three as oldest, so he zips his lips and sits up straighter.

  “It’s complicated.” Buzz uses air quotes as he brings the conversation back to the topic at hand. “Explain what that means.”

  “The relationship between Mateo and me is…”

  “Do not say complicated one more time,” he huffs, irritated.

  “Hey—let her talk,” I warn, becoming as aggravated as he is but protective, too. If I have to sit here and listen to him treat his sister like this, I’m going to wind up doing something I’ll regret, like planting him a facer.

  “That’s not our news,” she eventually says, sounding uncertain.

  “Are you getting married?” Buzz guesses with a laugh.

  True laughs, too. “Married? No.”

  “You’re already married?” Wow is he bad at this. “Did you go to Vegas when I wasn’t paying attention?”

  “Oh my god, Buzz, no. Would you stop?”

  “If you’re here to ask permission to date this guy, the answer is no. You told me once not to give him your info, so I have no fucking idea why we’re all sitting around like we’re at summer camp about to light a bonfire and sing ‘Kumbaya’.”

  The perfect opening if I’ve ever heard one.

  “See, the thing is…” True begins weakly. “The thing…”

  She wrings her hands together again, and I notice Tripp noticing, too. His brows furrow at the same time his mouth frowns.

  Being in front of the firing squad, aka your siblings, is a different kind of nerve-racking and painful—especially if you’ve lived your entire life constantly bidding for their approval.

  Which she has.

  I put a hand on her back and rub in slow circles below her shoulder blades.

  Buzz’s hawklike gaze watches.

  “So at your wedding, Mateo and I started talking…”

  “You’ve been dating since my wedding! That was months ago!”

  Soon we get to find out if it’s a girl or a boy, and we still haven’t decided if we want to know. Still aren’t sure if she’s coming with me to Arizona, still aren’t sure, aren’t sure…aren’t sure about anything.

  “Stop interrupting,” True finally scolds. “Just stop. It’s making me nervous—if you want to hear what I have to say, stop.”

  My hand continues rubbing her back.

  “Do you want me to say something?” I ask quietly, ready and willing to take over the conversation if she wants me to, but also willing to stay silent and let her do the talking.

  Whatever True wants and needs from me.

  Her head gives the barest perceptible shake, and she brushes the hair out of her face. “Alright. I’m just going to say this. Tripp, you’ve probably already pieced the puzzle together by now, having half the information.”

&nbs
p; Our eyes meet and he nods.

  “Buzz. Trace.” She uses his real name—his birth name—letting him know this is about to get serious. “Mateo and I slept together the night of your wedding, and I got pregnant.”

  Holy shit, way to rip off the Band-Aid, True.

  That’s my girl, balls to the wall.

  The only sounds that can be heard are the dog gnawing at his rubber ball in the corner of the room, the sloppy, wet noises and his little dog teeth squeaking against the rubber, making me cringe.

  Tripp sees me looking at the pooch and smiles. “That’s why I call him Chewy.”

  Ha ha.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything?” True eventually asks Buzz, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

  “How could you not tell me you slept with José Espinoza?”

  Hi, I’m sitting right here.

  Buzz stands.

  I lift my chin high.

  “His name is Mateo, and I don’t have to tell you every man I have sex with. Get over yourself.”

  “What?”

  “I said, his name is—”

  “I know what his goddamn name is!” her brother bellows. “When were you going to tell me you slept with him at my wedding?!”

  “It wasn’t at the wedding, and it’s none of your freaking business who I have sex with!”

  “Stop being so literal, and stop saying you have sex with people, I swear to god…” He takes a deep breath and starts over, calming himself down with the same breathing techniques we’re taught at work. “True.” This time he’s more composed. “When were you going to tell me you slept with Espinoza?”

  He barely looks at me.

  “Honestly? Never.” Her chin is tilted up defiantly—it’s a look I’ve seen my sisters give me dozens and dozens of times. “I just said, it’s none of your freaking business who I have sex with.”

  I almost expect him to cover his ears with his hands at the mention of the word ‘sex’ and follow it with La la la, I can’t hear you!

  “They were going to tell you in nine months,” Tripp interjects under his breath, clear as a bell and loud enough that we all hear him.

  Buzz’s head whips around. “What did you just say?” He’s yelling again.

  “Did you miss the part where she said she’s pregnant?” Tripp rolls his eyes. “Here you are focusing on the fact that they had sex.”

  He spins around to face us again. “You’re pregnant?”

  “I’m not,” I joke. “She is.”

  “You’re not funny!” Buzz shouts—a shout so loud and so over the top True actually starts to laugh, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle it so she doesn’t piss him off any worse than I already have.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  “In nine months, duh,” Tripp repeats, amused with himself and obviously proud he’s in the know.

  “Shut. Up!” Buzz pauses, the puzzle pieces of information clicking into place for him one at a time until finally, “Wait…you knew about this?”

  Tripp’s massive shoulders rise up then come down.

  “You fucker!” Buzz’s fist pounds down on the coffee table like a hammer, and for a split second, I swear he’s going to lunge at his brother. “Fucker, how could you keep this a secret from me?”

  “Easy—I keep secrets because you keep calling me fucker.”

  Buzz rolls his eyes. “What else haven’t you told me?”

  “Oh, we don’t tell you tons of stuff.” Tripp whistles. “But this was a doozy.”

  Buzz looks at his sister then, eyes sliding from her face to her collarbone. Down her chest to her stomach, where the telltale sign of a baby bump has emerged, small but present.

  “Holy. Shit.” He can barely peel his eyes off that bump. “Do Mom and Dad know?”

  “Not yet.” She hesitates. “I wanted…I w-wanted you both to know first. You and Tripp.”

  “But you’ve been living here with him. When did you tell him? Did he know this whole time?” Buzz points a thumb at his brother, firing off questions. “Why didn’t you come live with Hollis and me? We have more than enough room.”

  “Because…” True swipes at the hair in her face. “He’s hardly here, and I needed space. Time to think. He’s not all up in my business.”

  “I wouldn’t be all up in your business!”

  She gawks at him. “Are you insane? Your favorite thing to do is gossip and talk shit about people!”

  “No it is not!” He’s objecting, but his guilty eyes betray him. “I hate talking shit about people! I’m nice!”

  It’s true; he isn’t the worst considering he can be a real douche canoe some days.

  Look at him now, running hot then cold then hot then cold. He hasn’t even reacted to the part about True having a baby; he’s more worked up about the fact that she’s living with the wrong brother and that we banged at his wedding and that he wasn’t the first to know.

  “Trace, you play matchmaker with everyone—I didn’t need you trying to do it with me.”

  She’s calling him by his real name again, and I hold back a grin.

  “Um, newsflash—hellerrr, I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve repeatedly told José he cannot have your number. That is not me playing matchmaker—that is me being a cock-blocker.” He looks pleased with himself, standing tall, chest out. As if he’s done her a favor. “Little did I know you were already screwing! I feel so betrayed.”

  He does everything but put a hand to his brow and toss himself on the couch.

  “You are getting so off topic here. Mateo didn’t come here to tell you we’re having sex. We wanted to tell you we’re pregnant.”

  “Pregnant,” Tripp repeats, biting into his celery.

  “Pregnant,” Buzz says again. “Wait—you’re having a baby?”

  “Oh my god!” True hefts herself off the couch and walks to the kitchen, clearly intent on ignoring her idiot brother and fetching herself some water. She takes out a glass from the cabinet and goes about the task while Buzz sputters in the living room.

  “You’re pregnant?” Back to the shouting.

  “Damn is he slow on the uptake.” I can’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth, and Tripp nods in agreement.

  “So slow.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Hey, we don’t use those words in front of the baby,” Tripp scolds. “Clean up the language—we have to make some changes around here.”

  “I’m not living here forever!” True singsongs at the sink. “I’m moving out as soon as I find a place.”

  “You’ve not even looked at one single place.”

  She shrugs to herself. “But I will.”

  Little do they all know, I want her to move in with me. We may not be in a relationship-relationship, but she’s the mother of my first child and I’d like to think we’re…

  I don’t know.

  Falling in love maybe. Or will.

  Or might.

  Tripp stops chewing. “Don’t be so hasty. You don’t have to decide now.”

  “I’m deciding right now—I’m moving out.”

  “Take your time and think about it.” He winks at her, resting one arm on the back of the couch.

  She rolls her eyes.

  “She can move in with me,” Buzz argues, not wanting to be left out.

  True snorts.

  “Why are you like this?” he asks her, disgusted by her reaction to his suggestion, which—honestly? Is pretty damn great of him. The fact that they’re bickering over her living with them is great, actually.

  No less than I would do for any of my sisters, though Gloria basically does live with me when she gets sick of our parents.

  “Who else knows?” Buzz wants to know, following her into the kitchen.

  “Tripp. Chandler. Molly.” True lets the silence linger a few seconds. “And now you.”

  So few people.

  Her shoulders rise and fall as she breathes out a puff of air. “I had to tell someone. Molly said it wasn’t
healthy for me to keep the secret, and it wasn’t good for the baby to keep the news to myself.”

  “Molly,” Buzz repeats. “The fifteen-year-old neighbor kid said that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Pause.” He cocks his head to one side, tapping his hands in the universal gesture for time out. “You told the neighbor kid before you told me?”

  Here we go again…

  “I mean, she’s the one who found me throwing up in Tripp’s toilet, Buzz. What did you want me to do!”

  His face contorts. “Ew.”

  “See! You are so unbelievable! You just said you wanted me to stay at your house, but then you say ‘ew’ when I mention puking!”

  “Not the same thing. You made no mention of barfing—which is gross. I’d rather it be in his toilet, unless you’re done having morning sickness, in which case the offer is back on.” He’s leaning against the counter now, more at ease than he was a few minutes ago, which is a good sign.

  “So now what do we do?”

  We.

  As if this is a team effort.

  Team Espinoza-Wallace doesn’t have the worst ring to it.

  True throws her arms around her brother, and I hear a little sob escape her throat as she hugs him.

  “Thank you. I love you,” she gushes. “I was so scared to tell you.”

  We’re all smiling and laughing—and sure, mine may be a little forced because I’m still terrified Buzz might haul off and decide he still wants to nail me in the nads, but all in all…

  It couldn’t have gone any better.

  Besides, if True is right and Buzz and Hollis are having a baby too, then he’s keeping secrets of his own and will need our forgiveness when they finally break the news.

  Nineteen

  True

  We.

  There’s that word they love using.

  I become emotional when my brother tosses out the ‘we’ word the same way Molly uses it. The same way Tripp uses it. The same way Mateo uses it.

  We.

  As in: we are a team.

  You are not doing this alone.

  Why I ever thought I was alone is beyond me.

  It’s because I wasn’t in a relationship when I got the news, and I thought that somehow made me…alone in all this.