Page 50 of Books and Hookups

Fill a highball glass with ice. Pour over ¼ cup blueberry syrup, squeeze in a lemon wedge, and top with club soda. Garnish with blueberries and a lemon wheel.

DANNY

Friday nights during the summer, especially when the Giants played, we were always slammed. I’d been pulling beers since the after-work crowd started trickling in at four. The crowd was rowdy by the bottom of the third inning when our first baseman hit a solo home run. I cheered along with the rest, then I turned away from the TV screen to see who needed refills. Lucie appeared in the seat directly in front of me.

She bit her lip and set a manila envelope on the bar. “Hi, Danny.”

“Hey. It’s been a minute.” I could’ve kicked myself for saying it. Why had I said anything about how little I’d seen of her in the month since I’d introduced her to Sister Frances? Why couldn’t I have said I was glad to see her? Because I was. She looked good. Her skin glowed, and her eyes were bright. I might have been seeing what I wanted, but I thought there was a curve to her belly under the oversized black top she wore over a long black skirt.

“Yeah. Um, got a second? Or like ten minutes?”

I glanced around at my thirsty patrons. “Give me a few to take care of everyone and then I’ll take a break. You want something to drink?”

“I’d love a club soda.”

“I can do better than that.” I mixed up the simplest of my new mocktails, a club soda with a splash of lemon and my homemade blueberry syrup. I tossed in a few blueberries. The vitamin C would be good for Lucie and the baby.

I slid the drink in front of her, then I moved on to refilling beers and sodas. There was a burger up in the window, so I served that and took an order for chicken wings.

When everyone was happy, I turned back to Lucie. She was sucking down the last of her drink, the straw making a rattling slurp at the bottom of the glass.

“Want another?” I asked, grinning.

“Yes, please.” She scooted the glass toward me. “I need to drink more fluids, and that was delicious.”

“Are you hungry? Want me to put in your usual order?”

She clutched her stomach. “I already had dinner, but I’m hungry again. Would you, please?”

“You bet.” I put in the food order, then I mixed her another mocktail. After one last check of everyone’s drink levels, I told Nico I was going on break for a few, and I opened the hatch and walked out.

Lucie tipped her head toward an empty booth far away from the televisions, and I followed her to it. I set her drink in front of her, then sat on the other side.

“What’s up? You doing okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine. It’s just…” She looked down at the manila envelope. “I don’t feel I’ve been fair to you. This is…this is your baby too, and we’ve agreed to co-parent. I went to the doctor today, and she gave me some pictures. I wanted to share them with you.” She slid the envelope toward me.

I started to pick it up, but she pinned it down with a fingertip. “I asked her to write the baby’s sex on a slip of paper. I don’t know it yet.”

I yanked my hands off the envelope. “So this is, like, a gender reveal?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Gender is a social construct, at least until the child decides how they identify. But the doctor made an assumption based on the genitalia and wrote that down and sealed it in here.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Lucie was so smart. I usually went along with social conventions, but Lucie deeply thought about things, like whether our baby wanted to be assigned a gender before they even knew what that meant.

Still, years of social conditioning meant I’d bought into this particular social construct. It meant something to me. Lucie knew it, and she was letting me into this moment. Like a gift.

“You want to open it?” I asked.

“No, I want you to do it. Then tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, I tugged on the envelope. Lucie let it slip under her fingers. I pried open the brad and pulled out a few photos. It was dark in the booth, so I grabbed my phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight.

They were ultrasound photos, like the ones I’d seen at Belinda’s baby shower. But this time, the baby was mine. The baby was curled up in Lucie’s womb, and its tiny hand floated close to its face like it was about to suck its thumb. Remembering what Ma had said about pregnancy at Lucie’s age, I asked, “It’s healthy?”

She shot me a wry smile. “So far, so good. The genetic tests all came back negative.”

“And you’re feeling okay?”

---