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“How could you do this?” Tyler seethes from the couch that’s been in our mama’s living room since before I can even remember. We’ve got so many memories here. The worn threads of that old sofa have seen so much of our lives.
Looking around the room, it’s hard not to become overwhelmed. We have so many reminders that we’re family surrounding us. Mismatched frames filled with photos of our childhood line the walls. Tyler’s hockey trophies sit up on the fireplace mantle beneath a framed photo I took my senior year for my art final.
Damien is an optimist.
I knew better. I knew he wouldn’t see it that way. Not Tyler. Family or not, this is betrayal. We’ve committed high treason and, as the king of his proverbial castle, he’s preparing to exile us from his life. I feel it down deep in my bones.
What he fails to realize? We have the princess.
Damien doesn’t swoop in to save me. He lets me handle this, and for that I’m appreciative. I take a deep breath and debate my approach to his obvious anger. His response upsets me, but it’s not unexpected. The fact that he’s confirmed what I knew all along only makes me that much angrier with him. I try to channel that anger into an intelligent response before I allow the words to leave my lips, but, unfortunately, my sass wins out over logic.
“Well, they taught us in sixth grade that when semen penetrates…”
I let my voice trail off as I throw fuel on an already roaring flame. I end up with sarcasm and a side of salt. I’m sure there’s a better way to go about this, but I seem to be completely out of good ideas right now, so this will have to do. I can’t allow myself to break in front of Tyler. I can’t show weakness. If he thinks I’m weak it will only further support his theory that we’re not ready to be parents. He doesn’t have to say it. I know that’s how he feels.
And, fine, I can admit to myself that we aren’t ready, but we’re going to do everything in our power to make sure this little girl doesn’t realize we’re totally winging this parenting thing. I’d bet money that’s what most parents do anyway. “I was totally prepared for rocking parenthood.” Said no parent in the thick of parenting ever.
And maybe Damien is so sure of us that he’s almost got me convinced. Almost. Doubt still creeps into my thoughts when I’m alone at night. We won’t move in together until the start of the new semester. I’ve been living in the dorm, per our agreed-upon arrangement. There’s no reason for us to move in together until we have to. We’re just two friends that happened to conceive a baby together. One night. One slip-up. Nothing more.
When Damien’s not in class, he’s at the rink. He picked up a job there just like he said he would. He’s already saving for our expenses, he’s already preparing. I’ve had a hard time adjusting to the idea of us sharing everything. Responsibility. Finances. For most of my life, my mama did everything on her own. Up until Jeff came into our lives, but we’ve had more years without him than we’ve had with him. Same as the few years we had with my daddy. I don’t remember those.
My mama didn’t have help. Sometimes I feel guilty knowing that I will. It doesn’t seem fair, to anyone, but none of this does.
I’ve started singing to our baby when the doubt creeps in. When I’m scared for what our future will look like, I sing to her.
This little light of mine,
I’m gonna let it shine,
This little light of mine,
I’m gonna let it shine, all the time, let it shine.
Our baby girl is going to shine bright. Like all the stars in the night sky. I like to think my daddy is up there watching me. I bet he’s the brightest star of them all. He’ll watch over her too, I know he will.
Not going to lie, I’m still waiting on him to send a hurling meteor to Earth and take out Damien. Damien is a good man, but I don’t think anything would excuse what’s transpired between us in a father’s eyes. Just like I don’t expect it from Tyler. The difference? I know in my heart that my daddy would forgive, just like my mama did. Tyler? He won’t forget so easily.
“Oh, my God. I think I’m going to be sick.” Tyler pushes back from the couch and stands. He covers his hand with his mouth and begins pacing in front of where I stand next to Damien.
I step toward him, but he takes a step away. His eyes widen wildly. He’s big mad, just like I knew he would be. I might have mentioned to Damien that we didn’t have to tell him, a time or ten. But the truth is, Damien’s right, he needed to know. We couldn’t continue to hide. As much as I wanted to put off this confrontation, it was happening now or six months from now. May as well rip off the Band-Aid.
However, I still think at the very least waiting until the baby was born had some solid pros. I mean, Tyler’s pissed now but he’s also a big mush. He’s a protector by nature. He’d have taken one look at his niece and this would have all been a formality. Instead, we’re here, and a war is brewing in our midst.
Tyler looks from Damien back to me, passing judgment when he has no business doing so. He’s not perfect. None of us are, and to hold me to some unattainable standard of perfection he has in his mind is wrong. I just need him to tell me it’s going to be okay.
That’s not what he does, though.
“Look, Tyler, it’s not what you think.” Damien steps between us when he senses the tension rising to dangerous levels. We all feel it.
The big bang is inevitable. It’s coming. Tyler’s jaw ticks. Damien grunts. I mentally countdown in my head, taking small steps away from the two of them as I do.
Three, two…
“It’s not what I think? It’s not what I fucking think? How is this not what I think, Damien? Huh? Tell me. Because my baby sister is growing a baby in her stomach, and your semen is the reason it’s in there.” The way Tyler says the word semen to Damien sends my stomach swirling.
“Now I’m going to be sick, seriously, T, it makes me nauseous when you say semen.” I try to take a deep breath and pray the fresh oxygen keeps my lunch where it belongs.
I was sick for about a month and a half at the very beginning of my pregnancy, but luckily, I think I’m mostly over the 24/7 stomach bug. Or I thought I was until Tyler decided to say the word semen. Needless to say, it didn’t have the same effect as it did when I said it.
