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“And you paid using your watch!”
I show him my Apple Watch, and how I can change the face to match the color of my tie.
“That’s so dope,” he says, impressed.
“I could get you one for Christmas,” I suggest casually. “Be a good excuse.”
But he shakes his head, the shutters coming down over his eyes, as they always do. “Nah, I’m good.”
I don’t say anything, leaning back as the waiter brings over my coffee and his Coke. I have a big mouthful, enjoying the rich, creamy taste of the latte.
“So,” I say, “what’s this about then? I was surprised to see you before midday.”
Usually that would have earned me the finger, but he just leans on the table and fiddles with the top of the can. “I got a problem.”
“Okay…”
He chews his bottom lip. Then, eventually, he says, “Ellie thinks she’s pregnant.”
I stare at him, frustration and exasperation sweeping over me. “You fucking idiot.”
His shoulders droop. “I know,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”
His apology dissipates my anger. Ah, the poor kid called me because he needed to talk, and he thought I wouldn’t pass judgment on him.
I sigh, thinking how young he looks, with his bum-fluff facial hair. Technically, he’s old enough to have sex, and sixteen-year-olds can get married in New Zealand with consent from a Family Court Judge. But he’s still a child really, too young to vote or buy cigarettes or alcohol.
“I’m sorry,” I say gently, “I shouldn’t have said that. You shocked me, that’s all. I still think of you as the kid I used to let win at Mario Kart. I can’t believe you’re old enough to make a girl pregnant.”
He gives a short laugh and rubs his nose.
“All right,” I say. “Give me the details. How far gone is she?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what makes her think she’s pregnant? Has she taken a test?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How late is her period, then?”
He looks embarrassed. “I dunno.”
I survey him with a frown. “Bro, you do know how babies are made, right?”
“Yeah.” He fidgets. “Sort of. We did all the sperm and egg thing in Health class.”
“Well, that’s something. You know about ovulation and periods?”
Another blank, embarrassed look.
I grit my teeth. My fucking brother should have explained this to him.
“Did you use a condom?” I ask.
“She said it was okay if I pulled out.”
“Jesus, only if you’ve got a superhero’s reflexes. That’s really dangerous, because if you mistime it, the first fraction of ejaculate contains the most sperm.” I roll my eyes at his baffled look. “The first spurt of cum has the Olympic medalists doing the crawl to the finish line.”
