Page 83 of Maybe in Another Life

“Hannah,” he says, the moment I say hello. His voice is stern, almost angry. “We’re done. You said so yourself. You can’t call me. I finally have things back on track with my family. I’m not going to mess that up again.”

“Michael,” I say to him. “Just hold on one minute, OK?” Now I’m pissed.

“OK,” he says.

“I’m pregnant,” I tell him finally.

He’s so quiet I think the line has gone dead. “I’ll call you back in three minutes,” he says, and then he hangs up.

I pace around the room. I feel a flutter in my stomach.

The phone rings again.

“Hi,” I say.

“OK, so what do we do?” he asks. I can hear that he’s in a closed space. His voice is echoing. He sounds as if he’s in a bathroom.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“I can’t leave my wife and children,” he says adamantly.

“I’m not asking you to,” I tell him. I hate this conversation. I have been working to put this behind me, and now I’m right back in the middle of it.

“So what are you saying?” he asks.

“I’m not saying anything except that I thought you should know. It seemed wrong not to tell you.”

“I can’t do this,” he says. “I made a mistake, being with you. I can see that now. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have done it. It was a mistake. Jill knows what I did. We’re finally in a good place. I love my children. I cannot let anything ruin that.”

“I’m not asking anything of you,” I say to him. “That’s the truth. I just thought you should know.”

“OK,” he says. He is quiet for a moment and then, timidly, asks me what he’s probably wanted to ask me since I brought this up. “Have you considered... not having the baby?”

“If you’re going to ask me to have an abortion, Michael, you should at least say the word.” Such a coward.

“Have you considered having an abortion?” he asks.

“No,” I tell him. “I’m not considering having an abortion.”

“What about adoption?”

“Why do you care?” I ask him. “I’m having the baby. I’m not asking for your money or your attention or support, OK?”

“OK,” he says. “But I don’t know how I feel about having a baby out there.”

These are the sorts of things that people should really be thinking about before they have sex, but I’m one to talk.

“Well, then, step up to the plate and deal with it or don’t,” I say. “That’s your business.”

“I suppose it’s no different from donating sperm,” he says. He’s not talking to me. He’s talking to himself. But you know what? I don’t want him to help me raise this baby, and he doesn’t want to help me. Clearly, he’s just looking to absolve himself of any guilt or responsibility, and if that’s what it takes to make this simple, then I will help him do just that.

“Think of it like that,” I tell him. “You donated sperm.”

“Right,” he says. “That’s all it is.”

I want to tell him he’s a complete ass. But I don’t. I let him tell himself whatever he needs to. I know that this baby could ruin his family. I don’t want that. That’s the truth. I don’t want to break up a family, regardless of who is right and wrong. And I don’t need him. And I’m not sure that my child is better off having him around. He hasn’t shown himself to be a very good man.

“OK,” I say.

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