Her Dad's Friend(14)

Chapter 7




A week later we go to an OBGYN for the final confirmation and to make  sure everything is okay with the baby. When Paul hears the little  heartbeat, he's all smiles and laughter. I'm still slightly freaked out,  but once I see the tiny bean in the ultrasound photo, something inside  me changes and everything I thought was important yesterday feels like  nothing, because all I care about is the person growing inside of me and  the person beside me who helped make him/her. We made that. Paul and I,  together. That's insane.

And scary, because I barely know how to use a washing machine, let alone  raise another human. Thank God Paul is by my side. I don't think I  could do this without him.

On our way back to my apartment, Paul says, "It's time to tell your parents."

I've been avoiding it. I even contemplated waiting until I was too far  along to hide it anymore. I just really don't want them to ruin my  happiness by telling me what a horrible decision I've made or by hating  Paul. My parents were only seventeen when they had me, and according to  my grandmother, I ruined their lives and stole all their options. She  seemed to believe that since I was born out of wedlock I'm somehow  marked by Satan.

My parents insist that's not the case, and that not one day goes by that  they regret having me, but I've heard my mom over the years long for  the experiences she missed out on. That's why they were so happy for me  to get my degree. I wanted that for myself, of course, but they always  wanted it just a bit more.

I stare out the window at the cars flashing by and sigh. "I know."



I call my mom and tell her everything over the phone-I can't bear to say  it face to face. I have a whole speech written out, but by the middle  of it she's asking questions and shrieking, and I end up going  completely off script. There's a lot of crying on both our parts. When  she asks me who the father is, I hesitate. And then I tell her. The line  is dead silent and at first I think she's hung up on me. But then I  hear her muffled cussing and she's back on the phone.

"Paul," she says, "your dad's Paul."

"I'm so sorry, Mom. We didn't mean for things to go this far. But we're in love."

"You're in love with Paul  …  your dad's Paul."

I suppress a sigh. Damn it. This is harder than I thought, and far more annoying than I imagined.

"Yes. Dad's Paul."

"And what does Paul think about all of this?"

I glance at him. He sits on the couch, watching my end of the conversation and biting his nails. "He's happy. We're both happy."

More silence. More cussing. "What about school?"

"I'm going to finish school. I promise. There's only a few more months  before I graduate. I'll just be in my second trimester at that point, so  this shouldn't affect my attendance, or grades, or my graduation plans  at all."

Suddenly my mom squeals. "Oh my god, my baby is having a baby. I'm going  to be a grandmother." It takes me a moment to realize she's laughing  while she's saying this instead of crying like I initially thought. She  starts talking about baby clothes, showers, decorating a nursery. She  asks where we plan to live and tells me I sure as hell won't be moving  across the state with her grandchild, and that Paul better figure out a  way to move back or else.

By the time I hang up my head is spinning. "I think Mom's on board," I tell him. "Now for my dad."



Mom holds my hand while Paul and my dad talk in my dad's office. They've  been in there for hours. At first there was yelling. Their voices were  too muffled for me to hear exactly what was being said, but telling by  the sounds of their voices, it was heated. More time passes and  …  is  that laughter?

Paul comes out of the office. He comes up to me, leans over like he's  about to kiss my lips right there in front of my mom. I turn my head and  let him kiss my cheek instead. I'm not quite ready for PDA in front of  my parents even though they clearly know things have progressed beyond  that point.

"Rachael, come in here," my dad says from his office in a flat voice  that camouflages his mood. I have no idea what I'm getting myself into  walking in there. Every atom in my body wants to run. Instead I stand on  wobbly legs. I'm too old to be running away from my problems. I'm going  to be a mother. It's time I learn to face my fears, because God knows  things only get more frightening from here.         

     



 

Paul takes my hand. "It's okay. I'll be with you."

I slowly walk toward the office and poke my head in.

"Shut the door behind you," my dad says.

Once the door is shut, Paul and I sit in the seat across the large oak  desk. It's a beautiful, regal office with stained wood paneling and a  floor-to-ceiling library that houses mostly non-fiction about American  wars and biographies about generals and world leaders.

My parents didn't come from money but they have plenty of it now. My dad  had to work his way from carpet cleaner to owning his own trucking  company. All of that while raising a family of his own at the age of  seventeen. He could've walked away and not too many people would've  blamed him for doing so. But he didn't do that. He'd stayed and worked  hard and sacrificed to give me and my mom everything we could want or  need.

Knowing I've probably broken his heart is more than I can bear. I don't  know what I would do if he looked at me any differently than he always  has. I'm his little girl. I don't want that to change.

He sits behind his imposing desk in a leather high-backed chair. On the  desk is a photo of him and Paul at a Giants game. Next to it is a photo  of me and mom. Three of the people he loves the most and two of those  people have betrayed him.

He stands and walks around the desk, sitting on the edge beside me. He lets out a long sigh and shrugs his lips.

I apologize before he gets the chance to spew venom at me. "I'm so sorry  I went behind your back," I say. "Please don't hate Paul. I don't think  I can stand it if you two weren't friends because of me."

He drops his shoulders and glances at Paul before looking back at me. "I  can never hate Paul. He loves you. He's going to be the father of my  grandchild and he's family. But I want to make sure this is what you  want. You're still young. I don't want you to do anything you don't want  to do. You have options."

My heart rises into my throat, and I swallow back tears. "I want this, Dad. I love Paul and I want to have a family with him."

"And what about school? You have to promise me you won't give up your dreams."

"I have no intention of giving up anything. I can have it all with Paul's help."

He kisses my forehead. "Paul, can you go get my wife? We're going out to celebrate."

Paul hesitates. I can tell he doesn't want to leave me alone, afraid my  dad will say something to upset me. "It's okay. I'll be right out."

Paul nods and leaves the room. Once he's gone my dad says, "I know I  seem like a hardass sometimes, and it's hard to be affectionate, but I  really do love you."

I swallow back tears, my voice thick with emotion when I say, "I know. I love you, too."



Three Months Later.



I'm finally walking down the aisle.

Not that aisle; I'm graduating. Friends and family pile into the  university theater. The air conditioning is broken; people are sweaty  and uncomfortable crammed inside the narrow seats. It's a long ceremony  and I was fairly certain if the valedictorian didn't wrap things up he'd  be heckled off stage.

Despite the grumpy atmosphere, I'm relieved. It's been a long four years  and a lot of hard work, but I've finally made it. The ceremony wraps up  and the crowd roars as my graduating class throws our caps into the  air.

In the mayhem I find Paul, my parents, and the rest of my family sitting  near the back toward the exit. Once we finally make it out of the  cluster-fuck of a parking lot, we meet up with Emily and her family at  an Indian restaurant. Everyone in my family is giving me gifts. Paul  just smirks, empty handed.

"What is that look for?" I ask him.

"You'll see."

I pick at my food. I'm not sure exactly what I ordered but I think the  meat is goat. There's also something with curry and yogurt. Every  element on the plate has a mush consistency, and the smell is definitely  not working for me. The one and only time I tried Indian food in the  past, I enjoyed it-I didn't know what I was eating then either, but it  tasted good. Pregnancy has changed my sense of smell and taste. So far  this baby inside of me seems to only like candy bars. That's all I  crave, and I'm his/her powerless servant. Luckily I have Paul around to  make sure I have a balanced diet or it would be all sugar all the time.

"What do you mean, I'll see?" I ask. "What will I see?"

My mom leans over and with an exaggerated *wink, wink* says, "He means you'll see later tonight."

"Ew, Mom, stop," I said.