“There is no point in telling anyone until you have more of an idea of what you’re going to do.”
I sigh and sit back down, resting my head in my hands. I don’t know what either one of them would even think if they found out. Somehow, I feel like both of them would be happy. If it is Callahan’s, should I give being with him a try? If it’s Charlie, do we fast forward our relationship? I don’t want to be a single mom.
“This is ghetto.”
She starts laughing, and soon I join in, relishing in the release of the emotions. At least in the face of tragedy, we can find some sense of relief.
“What I do is going to be dependent on how far along I am.”
“Can’t be very far since you just had sex with them around Christmas. It’s not even been a full two months.” She rests her head on my shoulder and links her arm through mine. Like she always is, I know she will be here to see me through this. All I have to do is let her.
“You have to have a kid right away so our children can grow up together.” I turn to look at her, and my hair shifts to the side of my body.
“I don’t think I can promise that.”
“Why not? At least you’re married.” My father is going to kill me. I sigh again, and rub my eyes, fighting to keep the tears in.
“Errol might not want kids.”
“What?”
“Yeah, that is our latest argument. He says we’re too busy to focus on anyone else. His career is at an all-time high, and mine is going steady as well. He says we should focus on that.” She lifts her headand places it against the wall. Closing her eyes, she pinches her nose between her thumb and forefinger.
“Well, what are you going to do?” I ask, grabbing her hand.
“I can’t force him to have kids, but I’m thirty-three. I can’t wait much longer or I’ll be in my sixties, driving the kids to college.”
The image almost makes me want to keep the baby. At least if I do it now, I can still be active in their life. Plenty of people work and have kids. It doesn’t mean I have to entirely put my dreams on hold.
“Why don’t I give you my baby, and we can raise it together? You’re doing most of the work, of course.”
This gets her to sit up, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“Then I won’t even have to tell anyone because they will just think it’s yours.”
She shakes her head, her teeth gnawing on her lip. “If the dad is Callahan, there might be a lot of questions,” she says.
“Shit,” I say throwing my face into my hands again. “This is why I don’t date white guys!” I yell loud enough for Farrah to shush me.
I look up, and more than a few pregnant women are giving me the side-eye.
“With our combined genes, the kid is not going to look like me or my dad at all. When I have kids, I want them to be Black.”
I step outside my comfort zone once, and life knocks me down as a reminder. This is why I do the things that I do. To prevent stuff like this from happening.
“Culturally, your kid will be Black,” Farrah says, trying to comfort me.
Her words aren’t the salve on the wound that is my childhood. I don’t want the kid to experience what it was like for me to have awhite parent. I don’t want them to start off in this life with any type of self-hatred. But maybe them being passing might prevent that.
Before I can respond to her, a nurse is calling my name.
We walk to the back room, and the machine feels like a reality check kick to the gut. I lose my breath and find myself coming up short every time I try to get it back.
We both sit quietly while the technician puts the gel on my stomach. The cold sensation of it wakes me up a little bit. She doesn’t ask if I’m ready before she starts to press down on my gut. I close my eyes and turn my head.
“I don’t want to see,” I say.
Farrah grabs my hand. Her gentle squeeze tells me I don’t have to.
