“Next time, let me.” She turns the ignition and begins pulling out of her parking spot.
“Wait, so where are we going?” I ask.
She smiles, checking her blind spot as she changes lanes. “My place. Caleb is going toflip.”
During the brief car ride to Sarah’s house, I read pamphlets out loud until we’re both sure that pregnancy and babies are completely terrifying and, in equal measure, magical.
I also, quietly, think of Bo.
I wonder where he is today and what his normal workday looks like. What he might look like out of pirate costume but not naked. In his line of work, suits might be required. That, I’d like to see.
I wonder whether he’ll be horrified or glad to hear that he’s going to be a father—or, more likely, somewhere fluctuating between the two.
I wonder if he’ll show up for the baby, unlike my dad or Sarah’s.
I wonder if I want him to, or if I’d rather do it all myself. Lessening the chance of disappointment, the blow of rejection for me or this kid down the line.
Once we arrive, I allow Sarah the honour of telling her husband my news. ThemomentCaleb walks into the kitchen to greet us, the words burst from her lips, immediately sending him into a state of shock.
“He’s frozen.” I turn to my best friend, who’s giggling into her phone, taking photos of her dumbfounded husband. “You broke him,” I say.
“No,youdid.” She laughs again. “He’s just rebooting. He does this sometimes.” Sarah slides her phone into her back pocket. “Caleb,” she singsongs his name. “Come back to us, sweetie.”
“Why is no one else freaking out?” he asks, lowering himself onto a kitchen stool.
“I think it just hasn’t fully hit me yet.” I shrug, throwing back some shredded cheese from a bag in their fridge.
“I had a premonition that this would happen someday.” Sarah does this. She loves to claim that nothing in life catches her by surprise, due to her very much–unconfirmedpsychic ability she proclaims to have. I find it oddly comforting.
“What—what do we do?” Caleb asks. “What are we going to do?” he asks, nearing hysterical.
“Well,youdo nothing,” I answer. “As incestuous as this may often feel, you’re not the father.”
“This is so strange. It’s always just been the three of us.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, his elbow propped up on the counter.
“Oh, darling…” Sarah says, her tone laced with fake amiability. “You willalwaysbe our first baby. We love yousomuch.”
“Who’s the dad?” Caleb asks, ignoring his wife and turning to me as I shut their fridge with an armful of an assortment of snacks.
“Tell him,” Sarah says smugly, moving to stand beside Caleb.
I glare at her, dropping my haul onto their counter. “Bo,” I answer plainly.
“Who thehellis—”
“Robbie,” Sarah interrupts, bursting. “Robbie!”
“Oh…shit,” Caleb says, grimacing.
Sarah and I turn toward each other with urgency, terror in both of our expressions.
“What? Whyshit? Is he some sort of… delinquent?” Sarah asks, turning to face Caleb.
“No! He’s just…Well, he’s—”
“You wanted to introduce us, Caleb,” I say, my rage piquing within every syllable. “What do you meanoh shit?”
“I thought you’d have fun together!” he says, holding up his hands, his voice reaching an unbelievably high pitch. “I didn’t thinkthiswould happen!”
