31. Lucy
31
LUCY
I sleep through the early afternoon, but when I wake up, I don’t feel much better.
I have messages from April and Summer, responses from the teary text I sent after I left Court and Matilda on the sofa. They hadn’t responded right away, so I fell asleep.
I read over what I wrote.
Me: Matilda’s pregnant too! And the apartment building is looking for the illegal animal. Court could get evicted! I think I have to leave New York! I don’t know what to do!
April: You would leave Court?
Summer: It’s been like two weeks. They barely know each other. You do what’s right for you.
April: Says the girl who eloped in Vegas after four weeks.
Summer: Touché.
April: She’s going to have three mouths to feed!
Summer: There’s nothing for two of them to eat in that concrete jungle!
April: There’s parks.
Summer. There’s poisonous plants. And rats.
April: Lucy?
Summer: Lucy?
I hold my phone for a moment, trying to figure out what to say.
Me: We had a fight.
April: What kind of fight?
Summer: Screaming? Yelling? DID THAT SALTY BASTARD LAY A HAND ON YOU?
Me: No, no. He thinks Matilda can stay here, and I know she can’t. He doesn’t want to give up his place. I think Matilda and I aren’t worth it.
Summer. SALTY BASTARD.
April: Oh, honey. Are you sure? Go talk to him. Maybe he’s upset too.
Summer: AND CARRY A BAT.
Me: Matilda likes him better, to boot.
Summer: Uggh, the pregnancy flip. Shoot. Will she let you touch her?
Me: She wouldn’t earlier. I will try again.
Summer: Bring her an apple. She can’t resist an apple.
Me: Let me see what’s happening in the apartment.
I quietly open the door and listen.
There are no sounds in the apartment.
I pass the open door of the green room, crowded with boxes and baby things.
I tiptoe to the living room, not sure what I’ll find.
But no one’s there.
Matilda’s on the balcony. There’s a new wire mesh liner attached to the railing to prevent anything from falling beyond the edge.
So that’s what he’s been up to.
I stand at the glass door, watching Matilda sleep. This is a real problem. She needs to forage, to get a variety of leaves and sticks and nutrients. She can’t give birth here. And where could we find a vet for a goat in the city if there’s an emergency? We need to be near farms, places with the support we might need.
I turn away and head to Court’s bedroom. But when I get to his door, it’s clear he isn’t there.
Where did he go?
I head to my phone and realize there’s a sticky note taped to the outside of the guest room door.
Off to play basketball with my cousin.
I text Summer and April.
Me: He left to play basketball.
Summer: That salty bastard!
April: That’s good. You both need a moment to think things over.
Summer: You should go home. What do your parents think about you shacking up with a salty bastard?
April: She doesn’t talk to them.
Summer: Oh, right. Well, you should. They’re grandparents! They’ll help!
Me: I haven’t talked to them in years. They scare me.
Summer: They were always so nice, though.
April: They sold her BeeBee’s farm.
Summer: Can you forgive them? They have that huge plot of land, and it would be perfect for Matilda. Then you and Court can figure things out without all this pressure of the baby’s birth and the goat’s birth and the apartment. If he’s still a salty bastard, you can collect the child support and send the kid to New York for a week every summer.
April: And come to France!
Summer: Or live it up in Vegas.
I will do none of those things, especially calling my parents.
Me: Thanks for the pep talk. I just want to sleep until the baby comes.
April: That sounds like depression, girl.
Summer: Baby blues.
April: We’re worried about you.
Me: I’ll be fine. I’m always fine. You know that.
Summer: We used to know it. But now you’re in a big city where you only know a salty bastard, and you’re having his baby.
April: Salty B has money, doesn’t he? Will he use it against you?
I go still. They’re right. He clearly does. He lives here, plus he didn’t blink at all the things we’ve bought.
Could he try to take the baby after the test?
Maybe I don’t want to do the test.
Maybe I need to figure this thing out without him.
Me: I’ll think about all this. I’m feeling overloaded. Talk soon.
April: Keep us informed, baby girl.
Summer: Let us know if we need to bring a bat.
I click off my phone screen and bury my face in the softly scented pillow.
Why did I ever come here?
Now I’m stuck.