Page 96 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
Welcome to the club.
“Love.” I laugh, but it sounds hollow to my own ears. “Yeah, I told him that too.” Staring at my toes, my vision blurs, the heat behind my eyes growing. “Loving him didn’t change anything, either.” I bite my lip, the pain grounding me. “In fact, it made things worse.”
Trish walks over to me, arms out. I lean forward, my arms wrapping around her waist, my head resting against her stomach. As she runs her fingers through my hair, a few tears fall.
“So, you see, it’s just better this way.” I say into Trish’s shirt. “Better he not know.”
We’re quiet for a bit. The only sound comes from the glitter room, where the white noise machine I bought for the nursery is. Turns out it was easy to turn on but not so easy to turn off.
“You know”—Jackie’s rational tone has me smiling, my tongue tasting the salt of my tears—“I’ve done some research.”
“Of course, you have.” Jules sighs, and from the rustle of bags I can tell she’s settled in for one of Jackie’s oratorical speeches.
“Yes,” Jackie intones. “And it turns out there have been quite a few psychological studies about how men and women conceptualize pregnancy and parenthood. The concept of becoming a mother for women begins at the idea of motherhood. For men, the idea of parenthood is too abstract; they generally don’t accept being a father until conception, and even then, they only embrace their impending responsibilitiesafterthe birth of the child.”
I get ahold of my tears and sit up. “So?”
Trish grabs me a tissue from the side table.
Jackie’s eyes get big, like she’s surprised we haven’t made whatever forward leap her brain already concluded with that information. “Soit would be logical to think that Vance’s opinion on fatherhood is skewed due to lack of information. The simple fact of knowing he’s going to be a father and then becoming one could alter his whole outlook.”
“All those woulds and coulds sound a lot like maybes.” I blow my nose. “I’m not the biggest fan of maybes.”
“No one is.” Jules sits wide legged on my coach, her motorcycle boots looking out of place next to the baby llama stuffed animals that I decided would be the nursery’s theme piled on the floor. “But there is no maybe about this baby coming, is there?”
I look down, where my by no means toned but still flat tummy belies the existence of a baby growing inside. A baby already causing drama before it’s even fully formed.
Hashtag totally my kid.
“Yeah, no maybe about this little guy. Or girl.”
The state-of-the-art, five-star safety rated stroller parked in front of the glitter room has me imagining pushing around a sweet baby boy with big brown eyes and gorgeous dark hair. Or maybe a little girl dressed up as a unicorn just as all little girls should get a chance to do.
I swallow hard.
Trish shifts and sits next to me on the ottoman. It’s a tight squeeze, but I appreciate her closeness. “Can you tell us what he said when you told him you loved him?”
“He didn’t believe me.”
Jules’ head falls back against the sofa. “I’m seriously going to rip his nuts off.”
“Jules,” Jackie reprimands.
“What?” Jules shrugs, trying to look innocent rather than murderous. “It’s not like he treasures them anyway if he’s scheduled to get his tubes tied.”
“Women get their tubes tied. Men get—"
“Anyhoo.” Trish rolls her eyes at them, making me smile. “Is that all he said? He didn’t say that he didn’t love you, right?”
I remember his wide eyes. His frown of confusion. “Well, no,” I say slowly. “But he didn’t say that he loved me either.”
“Maybe he was just in shock.” The hope in Trish’s voice makes me feel nauseous.
Jackie pushes aside the portable bathing tub and sits by Jules on the couch. “Men are considerably less aware of emotional entanglements than women.”
Jules smirks at her. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
“What pot?” Jackie’s glasses slide down her nose when she frowns. “What kettle?”
