Page 95 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
“Rose.” Trish says it like a warning. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Sighing, I push the three Louis Vuitton tote bags I bought to use as diaper bags off the ottoman and sit down. “I didn’t tell him.”
“I don’t understand.” Jackie purses her lips. Not understanding something is Jackie’s pet peeve.
“How could you not tell him?” Jules turns like she wants to pace but is stopped by packages. “Youhaveto tell him. Not only is he the father, but he’s also my friend.”
I glance at Trish, but there’s no help there. She looks like a mamma disappointed in her kid.
Feeling cornered, I go on the offense. “Well, none of this would’ve happened if I knew you were his friend to begin with,” I say to Jules, my voice rising. “You never even mentioned his name before.”
“What are you talking about?” Jules frowns. “I talk about Flashlight all the time.”
“Yeah,Flashlight. Not Vance or Bodie.” I throw my hands in the air. “I thought you were referring to some sort of newfangled Robonaut.”
Jackie sucks in a deep breath, eyes wide. “You can’t replace Robonaut.” Any other time her mild look of horror would be funny, but right now I’m feeling all kinds of foolish and frustrated.
“Flashlight is hisnickname,” Jules explains, like I’m dumb.
“It’s a horrible nickname,” I retort.
Jules takes a step toward me. “Why, you—"
“That’s enough.” Trish’s Southern accent whips across the room. “You both are just upset.” She glances between Jules and me. “And you’re about to say things you don’t really mean.”
I take a deep, calming breath. Finding my inner Zen, I look Trish dead in the eye. “Flashlight is a horrible nickname. And I mean that with every fiber of my being.”
Jules opens her mouth, but I’m saved from her retort by my doorbell.
Good old Martin.
To the soundtrack of awkward silence, Martin and Doug haul my purchases into the master bedroom, seeing as both the soon-to-be-nursery and the living space are full. When they’re finished, I walk them to the front door and slip them another fifty each.
“Rose,” Trish says to me once I’ve shown them out. “You need to tell him.” Her voice is gentle but firm.
I stay facing the front door, not wanting to see my friends’ faces while I admit my biggest fear. “It won’t change anything.”
“You don’t know that, sugar.”
“Yes. I do.” Taking a deep breath, I face them. “He doesn’t want kids. He told me that before I got a chance to tell him I’m pregnant.” I laugh, annoyed that my eyes are stinging. “He’s even scheduled a vasectomy.”
Jules drops onto the sofa, crushing the bag of baby clothes from Marc Jacobs.
“Yeah. He’sthatserious about not having kids with me.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “But he wouldn’t mind staying casual. Just not anything serious.” I can’t disguise my hurt.
We sit in silence, all of us thinking over what I just said. Even though I’ve tried hard not to think about his words to me that day, now that I’ve admitted it, they spin round and round in my head and heart on replay. Killing me softly with each turn.
Jules breaks the silence. “I’m going to kill him.” Her calm tone is scarier than if she sounded angry.
“You can’t.” I slump back down on the ottoman, feeling drained, but also emotionally appeased by Jules’ declaration. “He’s your friend.”
“Yeah, but hoes before bros.”
I laugh, some of my sadness ebbing. “I fucking love you too, Jules.”
“Yeah, I know.” Her eyes soften, and she smiles. “I love you too.”
“We all love you,” Trish manages before biting her lip, like she’s trying to control her emotions.
