Chapter 16
Summer
It’s been a week since I spoke to Tate and I haven’t heard a word from him other than the lab calling to say payment was made so I can go in and have the test done.
I did that, got the results confirming that he’s the father.
Based on the research I did, blood paternity testing involves examining genetic material to affirm or refute biological relationships.
And there’s no refuting that the baby is Tate’s.
I don’t know if he’s seen the results, but they were sent to him so now all I can do is wait.
The conversation we had last week didn’t leave me feeling confident that he’s going to support me in this, so as usual, I’m on my own.
Taking care of myself, taking care of my mom, and potentially taking care of the baby growing inside me.
There’s no moral or religious reason for me not to have an abortion.
I tried going to the clinic again, and this time I got inside, but then I froze.
Everything inside me screamed that it wasn’t the right choice. It’s not logical but I can’t fight what my gut is telling me. So even though having a baby at this point in my life is going to be nearly impossible, I walked out of the clinic without looking back.
The truth is, the baby is already real to me.
I’m only six weeks pregnant and there’s no physical sign that anything is different, but I feel different. Puking every morning is the only reminder of my new condition, and it passes by lunch. Then I’m fine the rest of the day.
It’s hard to know if it’s the pregnancy making me tired or the fact that I’m not sleeping or eating well. I’ve been going through the motions every day and it’s wearing on me. I have to confide in someone other than my mom, because she hasn’t had another moment of lucidity since the day I told her.
I’m on my own.
And the only person I can talk to is Dolly.
“Hey, girl. What are you doing here?” She looks up from her desk in the back of the diner when I go in on Tuesday.
“I need to talk to you,” I whisper.
“You okay?” she asks, concern in her eyes.
“No.” I shake my head as I sink into a chair.
“What is it? Your mom?”
“No.” I pull in a deep breath and then just blurt it out— “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, shit.” She stares at me.
“Yes, it’s Tate’s,” I continue before she can ask.
“And he wasn’t happy.”
“Not even a little.”
“Did he say it wasn’t his?”
“No. I did the blood paternity test—he paid for it—and it’s definitely his. Although I haven’t heard from him since we got the results.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t fucking know.” I lean back and close my eyes. “I’ve been out to the women’s clinic twice and I just couldn’t…”
“So…we’re having a baby.”
“Well, I’m having one.”
“Come on, honey. You know I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”
“How am I going to work when I’m big as a house and unsteady on my feet?”
“We’ll figure it out. You could triple your pie business if you worked here less hours, so that might help. And we’ll change your days off, so you’re working on the slower days instead of weekend nights.”
Those small changes will help, definitely, but long-term…
“Once the baby’s born, who’s going to watch it while I work?” I demand. “And how am I going to eat during the month or however long I need to get back on my feet after the birth? And what if it winds up being a C-section and I can’t—”
“Whoa, there, Summer. Hang on to your hat—let’s not jump to every worst-case scenario before you’re even through the first trimester.”
“I have to,” I whisper, tears burning my eyes.
“Because these are all questions I have to have answers to. No one is going to save me. No one is going to support me. I can sue Tate for child support, and I’m sure he’ll give it up pretty easily, but he’s not rich either.
The album is doing well but he told me that he never knows how much his next royalty check will be.
Or when he’ll get it. The band has some sort of deal with the record label that they pay off all band-related debt first, before anyone gets paid.
So where does that leave me? And don’t say hire a lawyer—I can’t afford that either. ”
“Short-term, I’ll be there to help you after the birth.
Sylvie too. You can still bake pies while you’re recuperating and I’ll come by in the morning so you can sleep if you’ve been up all night.
Once you’re ready to come back here, we’ll have to adjust your schedule so you’re working when I’m working, and you leave the baby in the office with me.
Okay? So we have a plan to get you through, let’s say pregnancy and the first three months of the baby’s life. Then we can reassess.”
Tears are falling unchecked and pretty soon I start to sob.
Because she’s a good friend.
Because Tate is being such a jerk.
Because I miss my mom.
Because I’m fucking pregnant and hormonal as well.
“Shh, you’re okay, sweetie.” She comes around the desk and hugs me, letting me bury my face in her mid-section since I’m still sitting down. “Everything is gonna be okay. You’ll see. Babies are a blessing even when it doesn’t feel like it.”
“I don’t want my kid to suffer,” I whisper. “To be hungry or cold or scared because we don’t have money.”
“You’ll have money. And you’ll always have food. We’ll make sure of it. One way or another. Maybe this is the kick you need to get your baking business going. Summer’s Sweets for the win.”
I give her a watery smile. “I can barely put one foot in front of the other right now. I don’t have the bandwidth to expand my business.”
“But you will. This is still new. Fresh. Eventually, the shock will wear off and survival will kick in. You’re going to start coming up with a plan. We’ll work on it together. You’ll see, you’re going to be fine.”
I cry a little more before I’m finally all cried out. She hands me a tissue and I blow my nose, and then I just sit there.
“I hate that he won’t be there for us,” I whisper after a moment.
“You don’t know that. You know how you’re feeling right now? Scared and overwhelmed and all these crazy feelings? He’s feeling them too. Not in the same way—guys are built different—but he’s just as freaked out as you are. I promise you that.”
It’s a little hard to believe but she’s probably right.
I can’t count on him, though.
I couldn’t count on my dad and now it doesn’t appear I’ll be able to count on my child’s father either.
The women in my family must be cursed. My mother’s mother was a single mom too.
I’ve always been careful because I didn’t want to be one, and I’m frustrated that this happened when I know we used condoms.
“We were always careful,” I say after a moment. “That’s the part that pisses me off. There was no moment of stupidity where he slipped it in without a condom. No quickie in the shower or whatever. I don’t get it.”
“Maybe the condoms were expired!” she quips. “And if he’s well-hung, it’s always possible one broke.”
I stare at her.
Condoms expire?
“What?” she asks when I continue to stare at her in confusion. “Why do you look so weird?”
“Condoms…expire?”
She frowns. “Well, yeah. I don’t know how long, exactly, but they do. I think the ones with spermicide faster than the ones without.”
Spermicide?
Check.
The box in my bathroom cabinet is at least three years old.
Oh. My. God.
“This is my fault,” I whisper. “Because they got caught in the storm, he didn’t have any with him and I had that whole box in the bathroom…it seemed silly for him to go out and buy more. Fuck!”
Dolly looks startled. “All right, well, there’s nothing you can do about that now. What’s done is done. Let’s just focus on looking forward. How are you feeling?”
“Okay. Mornings have been rough but by eleven or twelve, I’m pretty much back to normal. I’m not sleeping well but that’s more mental than physical.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“Not much. There’s nothing to do this early on, I’m only six weeks. She prescribed some prenatal vitamins and other than that I’ll see her in a month or so.”
“Let’s sit down and do some number crunching,” she says, going back to her chair and pulling out a pad.
“Exactly how much your expenses are, how much you need to work right now while you’re feeling good so you can save money for later, and how much Tate needs to contribute for you to be able to breathe once your body forces you to slow down. ”
I nod, because there’s nothing for me to do but put one foot in front of the other.
With or without Tate, I’ve already pretty much made up my mind about what I’m going to do so I have to have a plan.
As far as how much he’s going to be involved—or not involved—well, the ball’s in his court.