Page 34 of Tempest

“No,” she says, laughing a little but in that nervous way we use humor to mask our real emotions. “Sit, let’s talk it out.”

Caroline pats the cushion next to her, and I join her.

“Fuck, Caroline.”

“I know.” She sighs. “It had to be that last time. Isn’t that just the craziest kind of luck? I’ve known for a few weeks, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. It’s a big decision and I didn’t want to rush it.”

“No, I wouldn’t want you to, either,” I say, still shocked by all this. “What about school?”

“I’m not going.” Her answer comes quickly but there isn’t any sadness with it.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been surer,” she says, and it reminds me of what I said to Odette only last night.

This is why Caroline asked about her. Because how do I start a relationship that already had so many obstacles in front of it, when I’m about to be a father with another woman? How am I even supposed to navigate college and hockey through all this? It’s not going to be easy living in Boston for the school year and having a baby here in upstate New York, let alone a girlfriend in the City.

My focus was supposed to be school and the sport. Odette was going to be the prize in my free time, but now, I’ll be prioritizing differently, and she’ll be left where? As an afterthought? She’s not somebody you put at the bottom of your list.

“Fuck,” I say, leaning my head back against the cushion and staring up at the ceiling fan as it whirls as fast as my heartbeat. “I’ll have to break it off with Odette. Won’t I?”

“I don’t know, Gav. I really don’t know. I hate that for you, though, you know that, right?”

“And I hate that you’re putting off college and a career.” Caroline is smart, she always has been, it’s come easy to her. She never struggled in school, every year ending it with a perfect four point. Cheerleading was the extracurricular she chose to help impress colleges because she wanted to have choices on where to go. I’ve never had any doubt that she’d be amazing at whatever she chose to do in life. “You’re going to be a great mom.”

“I know,” she says, confident but still somehow sad. “It feels right. Keeping the baby? It feels right, like I’m meant to be this baby’s mama. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“I would never. I’m more worried about how I’m going to fit in.”

We talk until my parents come home. Then we talk more, including them in the conversation. My mom cries with Caroline in her arms, while my dad, the more rational of us all, helps me work out plans. We painstakingly work through every angle like it’s a hockey game rather than a pregnancy. I feel oddly detached from so much of it but, halfway through the night, I make a decision of my own.

Caroline made hers, and now, I’ve made mine. She agreed with it. Are either of us truly happy about it? Not entirely. But it isn’t about just us now, we have a baby to think about. We’re young and naïve, yet we know what’s most important here. And that is giving this child a good life, filled with love and opportunities. We both had that. We still do. The proof is shown by how both our families are behind us now.

For better or worse.

11

Gavin

I’m about to pop the bread loaf into the oven when the text chimes on my phone. It’s an unknown number, of course, but I know who it is.

If I answer your last question, will you stop sending flowers, it reads.

Me:

If you continue to answer some by text, then maybe I’ll consider stopping.

Odette:

I’m not sure I can agree to that deal. I like the flowers. Especially the dark ones.

Despite her now glamorous life, it seems she hasn’t changed all that much. She’s still playful and likes banter.

Me:

Is that a request?

Odette:

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