Page 72 of My Girlfriend is Not the Father

The doctor wiped Lucy’s belly with a towel. ‘Any questions?’

Oh no … Pandora’s box had been opened. As the men peppered her with questions – like, how do the baby’s kidneys compare to others, how much would she weigh at birth, did her brain activity look normal – Lucy noted all the things she wanted to ask her dad. Was this how her dad acted with her mom? Was he even in the room during any of the ultrasounds? She ached, wishing her mom was here to hold her hand, share her own pregnancy story, and maybe add in a small joke about her dad.

And dammit, she really wished Jade was here, sharing this moment.

***

‘Did you eat chicken pot pie for dinner last night? Did you remember to make your yearly doctor’s appointment? And did you see that they have yet another new Jeopardy! host?’ Lucy chatted with her dad as she sat in her car in the parking lot outside the radiology department.

‘Why are you calling me during the day?’

‘I took the afternoon off.’ She leaned her head back into the car seat. ‘Explain to me something. How was it snowing less than two weeks ago, and now it’s sixty and sunny. My brain can’t comprehend that I’m looking at snow while wearing a sundress.’

‘I’ll tell ya, the farmers are none too happy about this. We needed more snowfall for the moisture. We don’t need no drought comin’ in like last year.’ She could hear him slump in a chair and crack open a can. ‘What do you need?’

Lucy needed so bad to hear something, anything, about her mom, and she needed her dad not to clam up. She needed Jade to be here, not wherever the hell she was, and for someone to hug her and assure her that everything would be okay.

‘Well, shit. Are you crying?’ Her dad’s tone was much softer than the words.

She sniffled. ‘It’s just hormones. I’m fine.’

A long pause followed. ‘Wasn’t today some big day for you all? You got to find out if you’re having a pink or blue.’

She grinned but bit her tongue. Explaining to her dad that the baby’s sex did not equal a colour would do zero good. Well, she knew what he meant. ‘When Mom, um, had me, did you find out my sex ahead of time?’

She tossed the question out softly, so that he could give a gruff yes or no if that’s all he wanted to share, and they could move on. She listened to him take a long pull of his pop, and then heard the ting of the can as he set it on the table.

‘Your mom was a nervous wreck. She wanted a kid so dang bad. A girl. She wanted to dress the kid up in ballerina shit and God knows what else.’

Lucy waited, begging, praying, hoping he’d say more. A moment passed, then two. She was about to change the subject when he started talking again.

‘And you know, I was just wonderin’ how many toes you had. I didn’t care much even if you had eleven toes. I just wanted to see with my eyes that, you know, all things were good.’

So many moments passed, she thought for sure this time he was done.

Then he took a breath. ‘So, we looked at the machine, and I’ll tell ya. I was so damn relieved. The doctor said you were healthy, and all your insides were the way they should be, and I just remember being able to breathe after that, knowing you seemed good.’

Lucy tugged on her lower lip, refusing to let herself cry with this backstory goldmine. ‘Thanks, Dad, I really needed this.’

‘All righty then.’

The phone clicked off, and she held it to her chest. Her lips trembled and she replayed his words. She lifted the phone and hovered her thumbs over the screen. Why was she contemplating not texting Jade? Seemed odd for people in a committed relationship, right? Of course she should message her, or call her, and give an update.

Lucy dialled. Straight to voicemail. Must be with a client. She flexed her thumbs.

Lucy: Had the ultrasound. Want to guess what’s behind door number one?

Three bubbles popped up. Then stopped. Then popped. Then stopped. Lucy waited. Three minutes. Six, ten. At the twelve-minute mark, she started the car and drove home.

Chapter 27

Jade

Jade stared at the orange, syrupy drink and gagged in solidarity as Lucy choked back the last bottle of the day. The twenty-seven-week, three-hour-long glucose test was no joke. Hopefully, the test showed Lucy did not have gestational diabetes and then she could happily eat ice cream until the end of the pregnancy.

‘I can’t do it,’ Lucy groaned in between gags, wiping sweat beads from her brow. ‘It’s like orange cough syrup mixed with Sunny D. I’m one hundred per cent going to ralph.’

‘Do people still say “ralph”?’ Jade dunked a paper towel into a water cup and dabbed Lucy’s neck. ‘You got this. Tonight, you can make me try something that will make me gag.’