Page 31 of Books and Hookups

“Ma,” I said, “people have babies in their forties all the time.”

“Do they? No one I know did. Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Dangerous to the mother?” I kept my hands flat on the table to disguise their tremble. What if Lucie died because of that broken condom? I’d never forgive myself.

Leo nudged my hand with a glass of Jack. “Ma, don’t be a dinosaur. Just because you popped out five babies before thirty-five doesn’t mean that’s how people do it these days. Lucie’s healthy, and I’m sure she’s got health insurance. She’ll be fine.”

Health insurance? My heart pounded. Lucie had mentioned it when she told me about the pregnancy. The policy Barb offered me was so expensive that I’d bought the state-mandated minimum coverage, which you had to practically sever a limb to make it worth using. How much would this baby cost? I lifted the whiskey and gulped it, grimacing at the burn in my throat.

“I think the bigger question is, what is going to happen between you and Lucie,” Leo said. “She’s, like, a grown-up with a job.”

“Danny has a job,” Giuliana said.

“Lucie’s got a college degree. She’s a journalist,” he said. “Didn’t you tell me she won some award?”

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Plus, she’s writing a book.”

“But she’s not your girlfriend?” my mother said.

“No.” I traced a water stain on the table.

“So, you two are…” She tilted her head.

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice tight.

“Fuck buddies,” Tony announced at the same time.

Ma smacked his shoulder.

“Sounds like you need to talk to her, Danny-o,” Leo said. “Ask her what she wants.”

I ground my molars. I already knew what she wanted. A good time. I wasn’t boyfriend material. Certainly not husband material. We’d never be a traditional family.

“Danny, you look pale,” Ma said. “I’ll get you some lasagna.”

“No, thanks, I’m good.” I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.

“I’ll eat his.” Tony stepped to the counter. “Ma, you hungry? Anyone else?”

Tony made plates of lasagna while I sat in my chair, struggling to breathe through the pressure on my chest. At Belinda and Jung-mi’s shower, they’d talked about painting the nursery. My apartment didn’t have a second bedroom to use as a nursery. Neither did Lucie’s. They’d shown us photos of the crib and the chest of drawers that had a special cushion to use as a changing table. A fancy rocking chair. Not to mention the dozens of things on their baby registry.

How did people afford all that? Every two weeks, I direct-deposited my salary into my savings account for the bar and lived on my tips. Some weeks I lived well. Others, I ate a lot of store-brand peanut-butter sandwiches.

Babies couldn’t live like that. I needed to set aside some money for our kid.

We’d never had a lot growing up, and we’d squeezed an adult and five kids into the suburban three-bedroom house my grandparents had left my mother. But we’d always had enough food to grow strong and healthy and enough love to make it through the hard times.

Co-parenting an accidental baby with my neighbor who thought my dick was my only redeeming quality wasn’t my idea of a family.

Ma leaned toward me. “Danny, I can see you’re worried. Is it money? I don’t have a lot extra, but I can help.”

I shook myself. “No, I couldn’t take your money. I’ll work it out.”

Her steady gaze was like an x-ray that read the anxious thoughts in my brain. “We’ve got lots of baby things in the attic. Why don’t you look through it and see if there’s anything you can use.”

“I’ll call Tina,” Giuliana said. “She got her tubes tied after Emma. I’m sure she’s got baby things she could give you. She’ll be glad someone can use them.”

The tightness in my chest eased a little. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a start. I’d show Lucie I was trying to help. Then she might not think I was completely worthless.

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