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My hope of being welcomed with warm, open arms quickly crumbles. If they can’t accept me and the life I am building, then maybe they do not deserve to learn about my baby.
A baby that I’m so painfully unprepared for. I have no idea what to do, and standing before my mom just makes the ache in my chest even worse. I want her to hold me and tell me it will be okay. I want her to advise me, to tell me what I’m supposed to do. Do I keep the baby? Get rid of it? If I keep it, how on earth do I raise it?
The silence drags on between us. I wet my lips and take a deep breath.
“You’re my parents and I?—”
“Are you here to ask for forgiveness?” Dad speaks sharply, lowering his paper again. “Because the next words from you better be I’m sorry.”
I hesitate, words catching in my throat. He wants an apology? For what?
Hesitation quickly gives way to frustration and a heated anger sweeps up my chest. Like long, caressing fingers, it works into my muscles and neck. I tense immediately.
“No,” I say. “I’m not here to apologize. I’m here to give you both a chance to apologize.”
“Excuse me?” Mom gasps sharply.
“I’m in love. I’m in love with three wonderful men who have treated me better than I could ever imagine. Maybe even better than I deserve. They see me. The real me. They support me in my work, in my passions, and they have been doing everything they can to care for me.”
I know that if I texted any one of them right now, they would come. That kind of trust is something I will never get again, and I don’t ever want to lose it.
And yet…this surprise baby might risk all of that.
“I love them. That’s…a revelation for me, really, but it’s true. I love them and they are the most important people in the world to me. They’ve also given me more support toward my future than either of you have. I will graduate in a few weeks but only because I’ve come this far. I won’t throw it away. Then I’m going to pursue what I’m good at, what I’m passionate about.”
“Which is?” Mom asks, her voice tight.
“Photography. You’ve seen some of my work. I have a small client list already and I plan on expanding. I’m good at it, and I hope you can find it within yourselves to be happy for me.”
My father’s face is unreadable. He stares hard at me while my mother clutches at her neck.
“Don’t be so ridiculous Emma, you have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“I do. I know how I feel and I know what I want to do. And you—” My words catch in my throat, sitting heavy behind my tongue as emotion wells. “You’re my parents. You’re supposed to care for me and support me. Please.”
“All of our money going to waste,” Dad snaps suddenly. “Do you think we paid for your tuition just so you could throw it away and not even do anything with your degree when it’s over?”
My heart sinks. Is that all he really cares about?
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear.” Dad closes the newspaper and slowly sets it aside. “I paid for your schooling. That diploma is mine and you will be applying for the job I have set up for you. Whatever this disgusting, rebellious nonsense is, it’s over. Do you understand me? No more games. No more bullshit.”
It’s jarring to hear him swear so openly. I take a half step backward.
“I will not let you throw your life away or waste my money like this.”
“I will pay it back,” I reply shakily, curling my hands into fists as if that will keep my voice under control. “I will pay you back every cent.”
“Oh Emma, stop being so ridiculous,” Mom snaps.
“I’m not!”
“You are!” Dad yells. “It’s quite simple. I have a plan laid out for you, and you will follow it, or Asher will find himself out of a job and out of a career.”
Asher.
Unfortunately, even the thought of him doesn’t warm me in this moment but as I recall his earlier words, I manage to keep my strength to not allow myself to be bullied.
“Asher is his own man and he has made it clear that he is in charge of his own decisions. He chooses me, Dad. Your threats are meaningless. I came here, hoping that we could?—”
