Page 82 of Pregnant By the Playboy
I can hear his voice in my head. He sounds like he’s singing with a smile on his face. It’s not, objectively, as nice of a singing voice as Julian’s, but it’s my dad’s, and it’s such a precious thing.
Someone touches my leg. “Marissa, are you okay?”
I can’t manage to respond to Courtney. I think I hear her get up, but I need to keep my eyes closed to hold onto this.
My mother never sang this song, I’m sure of it, and she never told me that he sang it. No, I remember this on my own.
The song ends.
“Sing it again,” I say frantically.
Julian does as I request without asking why. I open my eyes just long enough to see that Evie is asleep, so this song is only for me.
Distantly, I’m aware that I just met my boyfriend’s family for the first time, and here I am, tears streaming down my face. This isn’t how meet-the-parents dinners are supposed to go.
But...
Baba.
I smile through my tears. I don’t remember him looking at me over my crib; I can only hear his voice. Just this one song.
It means the world.
The memory is taking on some clarity. At first I was terrified I would forget it if Julian stopped singing, but now I know I won’t. It will stay with me, and I will cherish it.
I’d just turned three when I lost my father. It wouldn’t make sense for me to have memories from when I was Evie’s age, but maybe he sang it to me up until the day he died.
Someone squeezes in beside me on the armchair.
“You okay?” Vince asks.
“He sang this to me,” I say. “I remember now.”
When Julian finishes the song, I still can’t open my eyes, afraid of what I’ll see. People watching me, wondering what on earth is going on. But Vince is here, and he knows who I’m talking about. We haven’t spoken about it much, but he knows, I’m sure of it.
“I can’t understand the words,” Vince says softly, and I hear the smile in his voice, just like I could hear it in my father’s voice. “I wish I did, but I don’t.”
“Did anyone sing it to you when you were little?”
“Not that I recall. I don’t know where Julian learned it. But I’ll sing it to Baby, okay?” He places his hand on my stomach.
“Okay,” I say between sobs. “That would be nice.”
We sit there for a few minutes, and he doesn’t tell me to stop sobbing, just lets me cry against his shirt.
Eventually, he says, “You want to head out?”
I finally open my eyes. There’s nobody else in the room, just me and Vince, and he’s smiling at me uncertainly. I throw my arms around him.
Everyone appears by the door when we put on our shoes. They say it was nice to meet me, but I’m only dimly aware of my surroundings. My mind is focused on my father’s singing voice and Vince standing next to me.
We walk down the driveway and climb into the car.
“I’m so glad I remember him,” I say, even though I know I don’t look glad about anything. I keep thinking of all that I missed, and it feels different than it did before.
When Vince starts driving toward my condo, I call my mother.
I know I’m right about this memory. Still, I want someone to confirm it for me, and there’s only one person who can do that.
