Page 14 of This Means War

Tom looks over at Cole. “While we’re on that subject, I really think we ought to see what we can do with her career. Middle school running coach doesn’t have too much pizazz. Voters like candidates’ spouses to either work in the home or have jobs that show the extent of their post-secondary education. You know, doctors, professors, lawyers. That sort of thing.”

“Her parents are lawyers,” Cole offers.

“Well, that’s a little bit of something.” Tom is thoughtful. “Always helps to have lawyer parents when you’re trying to get into law school. I wonder what their alma maters are.”

“Excuse me,” I burst out, “I like my job.” Not only am I outraged with the way they’re discussing me like I’m not even here, but they’re also getting dangerously close to my least favorite topic. My failure to live up to my potential. My mother’s words, not mine.

Both men look at me as though just remembering that I’m in the room. “She likes her job,” Cole says to Tom with an apologetic shrug.

Tom sighs. “One battle at a time I suppose, but let’s keep the lawyer idea on the back burner. If we could even say that she’s going to be attending law school that might be good. Of course, right now she’ll be focusing on the baby anyway.” Tom seems to be thinking out loud, and Cole is just standing there nodding along.

“Excuse me,” I say again, “but what is happening right now?”

Their eyes swivel to me once more. “Lydia.” Cole steps forward, reaching for my hand– which I do not give him. After a beat he lets his hand fall back to his side. He sighs and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Lydia,” he says again, “I know this isn’t ideal, but I think us getting married is for the best.”

“Wow.” I clutch my hand to my heart. “That was so romantic. How could I refuse?”

Cole is not amused. “Hey now, we’re both in a bit of a jam here. Now I’m willing to make sacrifices for the happiness of our baby and, yes, for my career as well. I know I’m not your idea of a happily ever after, but honestly, I assumed you would be more than on board with this solution to your fear of being alone.”

I jerk my head as if I’ve been slapped, hurt that he’s throwing my moment of vulnerability with him yesterday back in my face. To his tiny credit Cole backtracks, correctly interpreting my body language. For once.

“Sorry, that was a low dig.” He sighs. “Will you at least think about it, Lydia? If we get married, a lot of our problems go away. Married couples are supposed to have babies, you know?”

I nod, my emotions too close to the surface for me to speak any sort of coherent words. “I have to go,” I mumble, then take off running.

I drive around aimlessly until my tears have run out and the redness of my face has faded. Again, I want to cry out to God, but my shame stops me. I’ve put myself in this predicament. When I finally get back to our apartment at quarter to eight, I find Jamie sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. The smell of garlic is heavy in the air, and it’s not agreeing with me.

“You’re home!” she cries, dashing up and running over to the oven. “Finally! I made dinner. Your favorite. Lasagna.” She pulls on a pair of oven mitts. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so late, but I think I managed to keep it warm.” She’s yammering like she does when she’s nervous, and I’m suddenly suspicious. Why has she gone to all this trouble to make my favorite dish?

“Did you paint something?” I accuse.

“What? No.” Jamie sets the lasagna down on the table, which, I notice for the first time, she’s set quite nicely. Wine glasses, cloth napkins, all the stops. I raise my eyebrows, staring her down. She sighs. “But there is something I need to tell you.”

Okay, now I’m getting nervous. It’s clear she’s trying to butter me up before she drops some sort ofbomb.

“Something you need to tell me,” I repeat, “and let me guess, I’m not going to like it.” My mind searches for possibilities. She already said she didn’t paint anything. Did she break something then? Or put a hole in the wall? Is there any chance she could be pregnant too? My mind starts to wander down that path, cooking up imaginary scenarios. The two of us with matching bumps, giving birth at the same time. Deciding to raise our babies together as roommates. Gosh, the sitcom potential is high.

No, I shake my head. There’s no way Jamie is pregnant. She’s been dating Luke Springer, a theology teacher at Faith, for over a year now, and they are super careful. Like won’t-even-hang-out-in-our-apartment-if-I’m-not-here-supervising careful. My face flushes at the thought of having to tell her how clearly, I was not careful.

“Here’s the thing,” Jamie begins, moving her hands onto the table and drumming her fingers along the table nervously. That’s when I see it. Sparkling on her finger.

“Jamie!” I shriek. “You got engaged!”

She breaks into a smile. “Yes!” she cries. “This weekend while you were gone. He asked me.”

“Congratulations!” I rush over and pull her into a hug. “But why would you think I’d be upset about that?”

“Oh.” Her smile dips slightly. “Well, obviously that means I’ll be moving out…”

“Oh.” My shoulders fall automatically, but I forcemyself to smile and sound bright. “Well, that’s okay. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to find–”

“In four months,” Jamie continues.

“Oh wow, that’s soon.” I continue to force my smile to remain intact. Four months. I’ll be almost six months pregnant in four months. Who’s going to want to live with me? And I definitely can’t afford this place on my own. Especially if I get fired for being an unwed mother.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie moans. “I know it’s so fast, but we want a summer wedding and neither of us wants to wait until next summer, because you know...” She eyes me meaningfully. Oh yes, I do know. Thanks to Enemy Number 1, I really do know.

“Right.” I nod, wiping my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans. “That makes total sense. I’m so happy for you guys, Jamie. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

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