“Shut up. This is serious shit. I’m pregnant!” She whisper-shouts the last two words and this makes me smile.
I’ve never gotten anyone pregnant. Before I found out about Grandma a few weeks ago, I was always extremely careful not to become reckless like Elaine. I suppose I should be disappointed in myself, but I can’t help feeling a sense of pride for my little swimmers. They did their job on the very first try, as if they’d been training for this performance all their lives. Well, I guess they have had lots of practice.
“So what do you want to do?” I ask. I think that’s what I’m supposed to ask. I don’t think telling her to get an abortion is the way these things are handled, but I doubt either one of us is ready for a baby.
Then an evil but brilliant idea flashes in my mind. I immediately try to push it out, but it keeps nagging and poking me as I wait for Senia’s response.
“I don’t know.”
Crap. She’s crying.
“I’m not trying to tell you to get rid of it,” I insist.
She chuckles. “Yeah, like you want to have a kid. You’d probably rather get cancer.”
I can’t even move my lips to form a response to cover up what I’m feeling right now. She had no way of knowing what she just said would affect me so deeply, but she can sense something in my silence.
“I’m sorry. That was a real jerk thing to say considering I have no idea why you were at the hospital today.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. My grandma … She has stage-four breast cancer.”
“Oh, no. And I was telling you to stop texting me and now I’m calling you to tell you I’m pregnant. Oh God. I feel so selfish. I’m so sorry.”
She starts crying again and I get a strange urge to kiss her tears, to taste them the way I did before.
“You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t know. But I have a way you can make it up to me.” She groans and I laugh. “Not sexual favors. I was kind of hoping you might want to come hang out for a little while. My sister’s gone so I have to stay here to keep an eye on my grandma. It’s kind of lonely.”
Did I really just say, It’s kind of lonely? What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Did you just tell me you’re lonely?”
“You know you want to come over,” I say, trying to recover a bit of my dignity.
She sighs before she responds and the sound of her breath in my ear gives me goosebumps. “Text me the address.”
Chapter Ten
I hear her car pull up outside – not that I’m listening for it. I immediately click off the TV show I’m watching about man caves and leap off the sofa. When I open the front door, Senia’s walking up the path in a sapphire-blue dress that hugs her curves, a black trench coat and black heels.
“Did you get dressed up to come here?” I ask with a grin and she rolls her eyes.
“Well, I wasn’t lying in bed in a fucking trench coat and heels, but I was wearing this dress. I always wear dresses. You know that.”
I do know that, yet, even with the easy access of simply pulling up her dress, this didn’t make it easy enough for us to hook up until last week; until she was wearing a skirt. Maybe the dresses are a curse. I should rip it off her right now to find out.
Settle down, Tristan.
When she steps inside the house, I find myself feeling a bit self-conscious. The house looks fine. It’s pretty tiny, but it’s completely remodeled. I can’t remember if Senia has ever been here, but I don’t want to admit this.
“It looks different,” she says as she looks around. “I guess you and Chris really took care of your families after you hit the big time. What’s that like?”
“What’s what like?”
She turns to me and fixes me with a worried stare. “Having a family to take care of?”
Her words stop me cold. “I never really thought of it that way. I just do it because it’s my job and … and I love them.”
She shakes her head as she looks away. “I’ve never had to take care of anyone. Even when Sophie was a baby, my parents never made me change diapers or babysit. My older sisters did that. I don’t know how to act like a mother, much less be one.”
“You want to take off that coat?” I ask as I shut the front door.
“I’m fine. I can’t stay too long. I just wanted to talk about … you know.”
“Sit down,” I say, placing my hand on her back to guide her toward the sofa. As soon as I feel the coolness of her coat under my hand, a worried thought crosses my mind. “Is this coat warm enough for the snow? Snow season starts in a few weeks. Do you need another coat?”
She takes a seat on the sofa and looks up at me as if I’m an alien. “I have other coats, thanks.”
I sit next to her and chuckle as she scoots a few inches away from me. “Are you afraid of being close to me?”
“Yes.”
“I can keep my hands to myself. You sure you don’t want to take that off?” I ask, giving her sleeve a soft tug.
“I thought you said you could keep your hands to yourself.”
“I didn’t touch you. I touched your coat.”
She narrows her eyes at me and leans back to get more comfortable. “Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?”
“You can’t drink in your condition.”
“Why, yes, I’d love a glass of water. Thank you.”
I smile as I make my way into the kitchen and take a glass out of the cupboard above the sink. I head for the refrigerator to get some water from the door, but the sound of the house phone stops me. I hurry back to the living room to grab the phone off the receiver. I don’t want the ringing to wake up Grandma.
“Hello?”
“Hello. This is Carissa’s mother. I’d like to speak to Molly’s mother or father. Are they home?”
“This is her brother. What happened to Molly?”
“I really think I should speak to her parents.”
“They’re not here,” I snarl. “Where’s Molly?”
“Well, that figures. Molly is in Carissa’s bedroom … drunk. Somebody needs to come pick her up.”
“I’ll be there. What’s the address?”
Carissa’s mother hangs up after she gives me the address and I stare at the phone for a moment, in shock.
“What’s wrong?” Senia says, reaching for the empty glass I set down on the coffee table in front of her.
“My sister Molly’s drunk. I have to go pick her up.”
“Drunk? Isn’t she, like, ten?”
“She’s thirteen.” I toss the phone onto the sofa and she quickly stands up.
“I’ll go get her. You have to stay here with your grandma.”
I look at her and I’m surprised to see that she’s serious. She wants to pick up my drunk, teenage sister. Fuck. Molly’s drunk. Well, what did I expect? She’s seen me drink away my troubles for about nine years. And I don’t think my troubles will ever compare to the pain she must be feeling over Grandma.
“You don’t have to do that,” I reply. “I doubt this is how you wanted to spend your Thanksgiving.”
“Hey, I have a lot to be thankful for today. Let me do this … as a friend.”
I can’t help but smile at these last three words. “I think we’re way past that,” I say, reaching into my pocket for my car key. I grab her hand and she swallows hard as I softly place the key in her palm. “Take my car.”
Chapter Eleven
Senia
Tristan programs the address into the GPS in his silver sports car then stands back and watches as I put on my seatbelt. I’m having a little trouble getting the buckle into the slot with my shaky hands. I can’t believe he’s entrusting me with this thing, but he insists that if Molly is going to throw up in the car, he’d rather she do it in his than mine.