“Not willing.” She repeats my words but says nothing more. Her own napkin is placed on the table as she leans back, crossing her arms over her chest. It’s a defensive move. This isn’t going to end well.
“No.” I shake my head. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t help support him or her.”
“Support.” She’s nodding and pinching her lips together like she’s doing her best not to say more.
“My attorney is working on setting up a trust for the child.” I pause again, expecting her to say something. She doesn’t disappoint.
“A trust.”
“One that they—he or she—can access when they turn eighteen. It’ll pay for college or whatever they want to do with their lives after high school.”
“Uh-huh.”
“On top of that, you’ll receive a monthly stipend to help support”—I nod at her stomach—“him or her.”
“A stipend.” She nods again, but nothing else has changed. Her arms are still crossed, and her mouth is still pinched together in irritation.
Wait. I hear tapping. Leaning to my left, I’m able to see her leg. It’s bouncing up and down, causing a staccato sound as her foot taps the floor. I’m thinking this isn’t good. I nod and continue while I still can. “You will be very comfortable.”
“We had to go to lunch for this?” She’s uncrossed her arms, and now she’s bending down like she’s reaching for something.
“I thought it would be better to have this conversation in person.”
“Oh.” She rolls her eyes. “Is this a conversation? To me, a conversation is when two people speak to each other about a particular topic. This, right here,” she points down, “was you telling me how it’s going to go.” She looks left, then right, then back at me. “Not only that. You chose a public place so I wouldn’t get angry?”
She’s not wrong. I chose a public spot so we could eat and she wouldn’t yell at me if she didn’t like what I was saying. Killing two birds, and all that. I move my head up slowly, then back down just as slow.
“So, I gather from all of this you don’t want to know this child.”
Perceptive. I shake my head. “I can’t.” That’s it. I can’t. She doesn’t need to know any more than that.
She stands, and I see she’s got her purse in her hand. I had a feeling this was what was going to happen. I look at her stomach and let my eyes roam up over her breasts to her face. At that moment, she leans down, placing her hands on the table. “Now it’s my turn to converse, Nate.”
This ought to be good. “Okay.”
“You can take your stipend and shove it up your ass.”
I nod. And wait for the rest.
“You can, however, create a trust if you want. I’m not opposed to that, because I want this child to have the opportunity to go to college.”
“I—”
She holds up her hand to stop me from speaking.
“I don’t need your help, Nate. I didn’t ask for it. I merely told you about this pregnancy out of obligation. So, keep your stipend. Move on with your life. We…” She places her palm on her stomach. “Don’t needyou.”
Then she turns on her heel and marches out of the restaurant. And just as our food is delivered too.
“Would you like me to box up her lunch?”
I nod. “Both of them, please.” I’m not hungry anymore.
11
Maggy
“Well, shit.”No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling the second I stepped outside of the restaurant. I quickly raised my hand to hail a cab, because the last thing I wanted was for Nate to follow me out and see the effect his words had on me.
