Page 83 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
I try to laugh, but I just sound awkward.
“Can I congratulate you or…” He trails off, probably not wanting to ask the question that first comes to mind when a young, unwed woman finds out she’s pregnant.
“You can congratulate me. I’m keeping it.” That is the only thing I’ve been sure about since I peed on the stick.
His smile grows. “Well then, congratulations.”
I feel stupid by how happy his congratulations make me. “Thanks.”
John’s expression turns carefully blank. “And may I ask about the father?”
“He’s my boyfriend.” Sort of. “And we were careful, but…” I shrug.
“These things happen. I just hope he took the news well.”
“I’m on my way to tell him.” I stare at the floor, remembering both my relief and nervousness when Vance finally responded to my texts after my presentation yesterday.
“Well, I hope this boyfriend of yours knows how lucky he is.”
I look up. “Lucky?”
“Yes, of course.” He looks bewildered by my surprise. “He not only has you in his life, but now you’re the mother of his child. He isverylucky.” John’s smile is softer and more real than any I’ve seen from him before. “Because you, Rose West, are going to be an amazing mother.”
I swallow through the sudden tightness in my throat. “You think?”
“I know.”
“But, I mean, you always seem so exasperated with me.”
He thinks for a moment. “Did you know I was going to retire three and a half years ago?”
The semester I enrolled. “Uh, no, I didn’t.”
John’s eyes move to the side to where a gold picture frame rests.
On one of my previous visits, I snuck a peek. In the picture John has his arm around a woman with short, dark hair, both smiling. It had to have been taken earlier, as John’s hair is darker in the photo, and he’s more salt than pepper now. I figured it was his wife.
“Diane passed away from breast cancer just before you enrolled.”
“Oh.” My mind blanks on anything else to say.
“I was having trouble getting up in the morning.” John’s voice is flat, as if reading from a script. “Getting to and doing work was even harder.”
I flash back to all the antics I put him through right from the start of my college career. The inappropriate jokes, the stripper clothes, that one time with the roller skates. “John. I amsosorry.”
He blinks a few times, coming back to the present. “Don’t be.” He smiles. “I’m telling you this to thank you.”
I point to myself. “Thankme?” My incredulous tone makes him chuckle.
“Yes, you. Because it wasn’t until you came bounding in, trailing glitter, popping bubble gum, and throwing out terms like YOLO, which I had to look up later, that I found myself looking forward to something again.”
“Ugh.” I drop my head in my hands. “Don’t remind me of my YOLO phase.”
John laughs and reaches out to take my hands.
I give them to him, still looking down.
“Rose.” He waits for me to lift my head. “You not only have a knack for lighting up the room, but you also do it while managing to make deadlines, write publish-worthy papers, and ace exams. You think you’re being covert, but I know all the times you’ve helped pay for a student’s tuition or their living expenses through fake scholarships that you made up on the spot.” He squeezes my hands when I start to look away. “Only you would name scholarships The Oliver Clothesoff Foundation or The Drew P. Weiner Fund.”
