“Where did you learn to do this?”
“Before my dad died, he used to do Frankie’s hair.”
AJ remembered Frankie trying to do it herself for school those first months after he passed. It was a mess. She was only five, so he took over. He did her hair every day until she went tomiddle school. After she was older, on days she wanted braids, he’d come out of retirement and pick up the brush again.
“So did you watch YouTube to learn how?”
“No, whenever Dad did Frankie’s hair, I was always sitting next to them reading. I just…remembered.”
“What about your mom? She didn’t do your sister’s hair?”
“She was… She’s better now, but she used to get depressed and she drank, even when my dad was alive. When he died, it got worse.”
AJ never talked about his childhood. Whenever people asked him about it, he gave them surface responses. He never lied, but he never went into detail.
The rest of the braiding session was done in silence. When he finished, he helped Poppy up, and she looked in the mirror. The smile that spread across her face made him feel like he’d just won a Nobel Peace Prize. It was a totally disproportionate response. When she came back and sat down, he heard her stomach rumble, so he made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
After she ate it, he decided to broach the subject that she was avoiding. “So, the baby?—”
“Yes. It’s yours.” She pulled the ultrasound out of her purse and showed it to him. “That is the conception date.”
He wasn’t actually going to ask that. The possibility that he wasn’t the father hadn’t even crossed his mind. But staring down at the reality, the blob on the screen made it indisputably real. He waited to feel something—panic, fear, joy, anticipation. He felt something, something extreme, but he couldn’t find words to describe it. He’d lost his words again.
“Look, I don’t expect anything from you. This wasn’t me tricking you into anything. When I said I couldn’t get pregnant, I didn’t think this was possible.”
“I know that.” There wasn’t any part of him that had any sort of suspicion about Poppy for a second. He never questioned her integrity.
She stared at him, almost as if she had expected him to argue with her, and now she didn’t know what to do.
“I don’t expect anything from you.”
“You said that.”
“I wasn’t finished. The only thing I am asking is that you don’t tell anyone.”
AJ felt like he was back on the playground again in third grade and the kids were making fun of him for not speaking. Was she embarrassed?
“You don’t want anyone to know I’m the father?”
“No!” she shook her head. “I mean, no, I don’t want anyone to know I’m pregnant.”
AJ was confused. Poppy said this was what she’d always wanted, always dreamed of. Why wasn’t she happy? Was it because of him? Was it because he’d contributed half the DNA?
“Getting pregnant was basically a miracle. I had less than a one percent chance of this happening. But Steph explained I am still at high risk. Because of that, I don’t want anyone to know. Not yet. I just need to be a little further along, give me some time to wrap my head around this. I mean, I bought a house, I quit my job, and there’s a very big possibility that something could happen and this could....I don’t want to talk about it, not yet.” She put her hands on her belly, then looked back up at him. “So can you promise me you won’t say anything toanyone?”
He could see the plea in her eyes. He didn’t agree with her. He felt like now more than ever she should have support around her, but he knew it wasn’t his decision to make. AJ wouldn’t say a word. He wouldn’t have even if she hadn’t asked him not to. It wasn’t his place.
“Yes,” he agreed.
A yawn claimed her.
“You should get some rest.” It was a common misnomer that you shouldn’t sleep when you have a concussion. Dr. West advised her to sleep.
“I’m not tired, I want to watch TV.”
AJ reached over and grabbed the remote control. He handed it to her.
“I hope you like reality TV,” she sing-songed, her eyes twinkling as she wagged her brows.
