Page 58 of Unexpecting

″I said no.”

″But—we’re getting married. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what we have to do.”

″No fucking way!″ I suddenly shrieked. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to marry you!”

″But you want—”

″You have no right to tell me what I do or don’t want. You have no idea! There’s no way I want to marry you because you think it’s the right thing to do. And especially not if you’re planning a small, quickie wedding that your mother would hate. Piece of advice— not the best way to propose.”

″So if I said it differently—”

″No. Still no. I’m not an obligation, J.B. I’m not some poor, needy, sad, little girl who needs you to take care of me. I got myself into this situation, and I can take care of myself. I wanted to get pregnant, I want to have a baby, and I can do it myself. Myself, which means you can forget you ever knew I, or this baby, existed.”

″What if I don’t want that?” he asked sullenly.

″Then do something about it. Right now, as far as I’m concerned, J.B., you’re not allowed any part of this baby. You’ve been an ass about it, and I’m through with that. I’m pregnant; you’re not. You don’t want a baby. So fine, you don’t have one. It’s all mine.” I put a hand possessively over my stomach. “But if you think maybe someday you might change your mind and would like to know your child, then you better think twice about your behaviour these next few months. You’ll have to prove to me that any part of this baby belongs to you.”

″You want me to prove I want a baby?” he scoffed.

″I want you to prove you’re not the complete selfish asshole that I think you are right now! You need to prove you’re capable of loving something unconditionally and taking full responsibility for it, not because it’s the ‘right’ thing to do, but because you want to. You’ve got nine months to get used to the idea. And let me tell you, J.B., you need this baby in your life. You need to learn how to love something in your life, or God help you, you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life.”

And with that very fitting exit line, I swept into the house.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Some pregnant women are plagued with morning sickness. It is said that nausea can be looked upon as a sign the fetus is developing normally.”

A Young Woman’s Guide to the Joy of Impending Motherhood

Dr. Francine Pascal Reid (1941)

That happened Sunday night,so the week didn’t start off too well. It never got any better either.

I paid a visit to my doctor, who, after a blood test, confirmed that I was indeed pregnant. This precluded a whole panic attack, which would have led to some serious crying and then a lot of laughter because I’m so messed up. Anyway, Dr. Dennis told me I was due on or around February 16. She set up an appointment for me with an obstetrician for the first week in September. Of course, as soon as she gave me the date, I couldn’t help but start to get teary-eyed, thinking it would be a few days after Brit’s wedding. I wondered if Brit would be happy for me by then.

I’m going to have a baby. I wonder if he or she will look like J.B.?

J.B., who is the father of my baby; who doesn’t want to be the father—and I’m sitting around wondering if the kid will look like him? J.B., who has been avoiding me so much this week that he couldn’t even bring himself to enjoy Cooper’s breakfasts on the weekend, preferring to head out early to bike or play soccer or some equally testosterone-fuelled activity.

Things didn’t seem to be any better the next Monday either, when I woke up with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I went to work. Once again, my day only went downhill from there.

There was a jumper on the subway line, so I was half an hour late to open the store. I’d decided to take a few extra shifts at the store each week. No summer vacation for me this year—I had to start planning for another mouth to feed come next year.

Being late wasn’t the end of the world, since there’s usually not a lineup to buy wine before ten o’clock in the morning, but it still didn’t look good and it always starts my day off wrong. It also irritated me that some selfish person decided to take his life by jumping in front of a subway car during rush hour, which not only ended his life but screwed up the lives of several thousand people as well. Talk about inconsiderate. So I was not a happy camper when I finally unlocked the door to the store.

The day got a bit better as the morning wore on, but I was still forcing myself to smile. And I still felt gross, sort of like I was hungover, but without having had a drink, which was totally unfair. I kept telling myself I must be getting the flu. I was still on my own—Hannah doesn’t come in until twelve o’clock—and I was ringing up two bottles of Inniskillen Riesling for a nineteen-year-old (she was actually happy to be carded), when I heard the door chime ring. I looked up with my welcoming smile—like I always do, even when I’m feeling like crap—and saw my mother walk in.

″Hello, Casey.” Today Terri was dressed in a tasteful pantsuit. Tasteful for her, which meant she was not wearing anything under the jacket and was showing a little too much crêpey cleavage for my liking.

″Hello.” I wondered why my mother never gives notice before she comes by. Never phones, never e-mails her intention. She always drops by Libby’s unannounced, when she knows Libby absolutely hates people doing that because it never gives her a chance to tidy up. Look at what happened at Cooper’s party. I wonder if she thinks we’ll avoid her if we know she’s coming. I wonder how many times she stops by my place without me knowing she’s come by.

I finished with the customer and sent him away with a smile. Terri looked around the quiet store before teetering over to me behind the counter in her red stilettos. They were nice shoes, if you’re into shoes. A little tacky, but that’s Terri for you.

I was about to comment on them—the nice part, not the tacky—when Terri started in on me. The whole three-name thing.

″Casey Louise Samms, I need to know how I could have raised you to be able to show such little regard for me so that you wouldn’t even have the decency to call and tell me you’re pregnant. I have to find out from your sister? I’m your mother, for God’s sake. How could you not tell me?” Her voice rose with each word until she was shouting at me.

I didn’t remember the last time Terri was angry with me. Growing up, it was always Ed the father who was the disciplinarian. Terri’s reaction to anything Libby and I did was always indifference at best. I really didn’t know how to react to this onslaught of hurt feelings.

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