32. Court
32
COURT
T he glossy floor squeaks as I pivot to duck around Matt, who makes a wild jab at stealing the basketball as I drive toward the goal.
I spin to avoid my cousin Jason, who’s blocking the guard to clear my path.
But the giant form of Caleb is too much for me to get around, so I make a quick bounce pass to Jason and let him sink the two-pointer.
“Match!” Jason calls, and we all smack each other’s hands to conclude the game.
This is good. I’ve missed playing with the guys. Missed working out. Missed my life before a woman and her goat.
I sit on the bench, chugging water.
Jason drops in place beside me. “You blew us off last week. I half-expected to hear you’d run for the hills after Dad’s ‘Be a good pickle’ speech.”
“I took her to a farm expo last weekend.”
He laughs. “You? With the tractors and livestock?”
I elbow him. “She wanted to go.”
“So you’re getting along.”
“She’s been staying with me.”
“And it’s going okay?”
I run my towel over my head. “It was. Until it wasn’t.”
Jason takes a long pull on his water before saying, “I imagine it’s contentious. She’s pregnant.”
“It’s her goat that’s the problem.”
“Right. Where is that thing, anyway?”
“On my balcony. We’re borderline getting caught. I’m not sure what they’ll do when they find it.”
“And she won’t part with it?”
“It’s her kid. Literally. And now it’s pregnant, too.”
“What? Is there something in the water?”
I drape my towel over my bag. “It’s a goddamn nightmare, that’s what it is. We were doing fine, then it all went to hell.”
“Give it time. Not that it will get better. A baby is a stress no matter what. You going to hire a nanny or something?”
“I’m waiting to see if it’s even mine.”
Jason’s mouth tightens into a frown. “About that. You know you don’t have to wait until it’s born. They can test while she’s pregnant.”
“Right, but it’s a big needle and amniotic fluid and all that.”
He shakes his head. “Aunt Caprice didn’t watch Dr. Phil? My mom did.”
“God, no.”
“Those women were always doing it to be revealed on the show. It’s just a blood test. No needle in the belly.”
“But I googled it.”
“Then you did a shit job.”
I reach down and pull my phone out of my bag. It’s true, I only read the headlines for the search results. It was a tense moment. And Lucy hadn’t wanted to ask the doctor about it.
Why is that?
My stomach grows heavy as I click on search results and read entire articles. Fuck. Jason’s right. You can do a simple blood test. And Lucy had a blood draw the other day. We could have done it right then.
But we didn’t.
“Bro, you don’t look good.” Jason smacks my back. “You think she’s delaying the test on purpose?”
“We bought all the baby stuff.”
“Maybe that’s all she wanted? A cash cow?”
“I don’t care if she bilked me for that. But what would her end game be?”
“Maybe she’s hoping you’ll fall in love with her, no matter how the test comes out.”
Shit.
“Hey.” Jason’s voice turns serious. “I’m not saying that’s what’s happening. Obviously, you’re in the running based on the timeline. But maybe guard yourself. Use your head.”
That’s pretty much the opposite of what I’ve been doing.
“When are you headed back to Austin?”
Jason tosses his bottle in his bag. “I’m flying out tonight. Ping me if you need anything. You’ve got backup here. Dad. Grammy.”
“I know.”
He gives me a salute as he heads out of the gym.
A new set of players enters the court, and I’m half-tempted to jump into their pickup game, but I don’t. I gather my things and start walking.
It’s five miles to the apartment. Normally, I’d grab a taxi, but today, I want the time to think.
As far as I can see, I’ve got three problems.
One, why didn’t we do a blood test? That’s a big one. If she’s so sure, why didn’t she look it all up and be ready to prove her case?
Two, what do we do about the goat? I have a lease for six more months. But more than that, where could we even put the damn thing? Nowhere in Manhattan. I can’t imagine commuting from someplace like Warwick every day.
Three, what are we even going to be to each other? We seem to be making some sort of run at being a couple, but it’s not going well. Not now. It’s only been nine days since I rescued her from that farm. Nobody knows anything about anybody in nine days.
Except I do. I know she’s more beloved at my work than I am. That she’s an asset there.
She’s fierce about the living things in her care.
She’s independent. She found ways to make money under extreme circumstances.
She’s doing all the trying.
I need to try harder.
It starts raining by the time I’m halfway home, but I keep walking. It feels right.
I’m drenched when I make it up to the apartment. I enter with trepidation, not sure what I’ll find.
But Lucy is in the kitchen, stirring a creamy sauce on the stove.
Matilda is up on the dining table, glaring at her. She sees me and jumps down for pets.
I pat her head, not sure how to approach Lucy. “Hey.”
She doesn’t look up from the pot. “How was the game?”
Her tone sounds fine, but I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or if she’s hiding how she feels. “It was fine. I got drenched walking home.”
She glances at me. “Oh, you are.”
“I think I’ll shower.”
She doesn’t respond to that.
I wait a moment, then turn to head for the hall.
Matilda follows me.
Great. There are a thousand things she can eat or destroy in my room while I shower.
Her hooves clatter on the wood floor. When we arrive, I try to close the door on her, but she bleats pathetically and bangs her head on the wood panel.
I jerk it open again, not wanting Lucy to think I’m upsetting her goat. “Shhh, shhhh. Come on, then.”
She likes this new space and instantly jumps on the bed. Great.
I set my bag down and plug in my phone. The light in the room starts to vibrate oddly.
I turn to see Matilda eating the lampshade. “No, no!”
I must come at her too fast, because she startles and jumps to the floor, knocking the lamp over. It lands on the floor with a crash and goes out.
Now there are shattered lightbulb pieces everywhere.
“Over here, before you cut yourself,” I call her to the bathroom.
She trots over happily. I lead her into the large white-tiled room and shut us both inside. What can she get into? I grab the rug and open the door again to toss it into the bedroom.
Towels. I roll them up and secure them in a cabinet.
When I turn around, she’s found my Sonicare electric toothbrush and happily chomps on the bristles.
I won’t be using that again.
I pull it from her mouth before she ingests any plastic.
Everything on the counter is in danger.
I pick up the trash can and sweep everything into it. Beard oil. Hand soap. A couple of decorative doodads. Then I shove the can under the sink.
That’s better. Now there’s only tile, cabinets, and towel racks.
The bathroom has both a garden tub and a walk-in shower framed in glass. There’s no door to it, just an opening on the opposite end from the spray.
I lift Matilda into the tub and dribble the faucet. She immediately licks at it. I hope that will keep her busy for the fastest shower in history.
I turn on the water and shed my workout clothes, storing them in a high cabinet before they become goat food.
But I’m only in the spray for a few seconds when I feel a nudge perilously close to my junk.
I open my eyes.
Matilda has jumped out of the tub and looks up at me, blinking in the fall of water.
This is weird.
There’s a knock at the door. “Everything okay with Matilda? I heard a crash.”
I lean through the gap in the shower wall. “She knocked over a lamp. Careful of the glass.”
“Do you want me to get her?”
I look down at the goat. She peers up at me like I’m the greatest thing on earth.
“I don’t think she’ll come.”
Lucy opens the door, her eyebrows lifting when she spots me and the goat in the shower. “This is not a sight I ever expected.”
“Goat infidelity. Guilty.”
Finally, she smiles. “Let me get some bribes.”
Matilda and I wait, wet and, I guess, both naked, until Lucy returns with an apple and a lead.
Matilda hesitates, but the lure of the treat is too strong. Lucy pops the lead on her and uses the apple to walk her out of the bath.
I hope this means things are better between us.