Page 124 of Pucked Up Plans
But this? This one stupid, asinine mistake?
This one could surely do me in.
Slumping against the wall, I slide down to the floor, my legs flopping out in front of me. I hide my face in my hands and try toignore Tate and Aubrey passing me by, Aubrey’s appeal of “But why do we have to leave?” ringing out loudly in the hall. I’m sure she’s not screaming, but to my guilty ears, it’s deafening. I strain to hear Tate’s answer, but she either doesn’t or whispers it so quietly, I can’t hear.
My mother joins me in the hall.
“Did the other girl leave?”
Oh shit.
“No.” Should I make more of an attempt to get back to the kitchen? Absolutely.
Do I do it? No fucking way.
I pick my head up and peer up at my mother, the one person in my life who’s had my back no matter what I did wrong. “What do I do, Ma?”
“The right thing.”
“Gee, thanks. I was kinda eager for more than an ambivalent answer,” I sass. Luckily, she’s used to my sarcastic nature, having inherited it from her.
She glares at me, the one that made me cower when I was little. “First, pick yourself up off the floor so Lennon doesn’t get any inkling something’s wrong. Second, go into the kitchen, offer the girl a drink of water, get her number, tell her you’ll be in touch, and send her on her way. Then, pray like hell it’s not your baby.”
“And Tate?”
“She’s scared, Walsh. It’s easy to see how much you mean to her. She wasn’t expecting something like this to happen?—”
I cut her off. “Neither was I.” It comes out way harsher than I intend. I blame the emotional turmoil.
Again I’m on the end of a Millie Keeley glare. “Let me finish.” She pauses, waiting for my “I’m sorry” before she continues. “Give her time. She has a choice to make, but so do you. Nothing can be decided until you know for sure.” She pauses again. “Isthere reason to believe it could be your baby?” she finally asks in a quieter voice, her tone somewhere between soothing and angry.
“If you’re asking if we had sex, yes. But we used protection.” She raises an eyebrow in challenge. “I know, but seriously. What’s the alternative? To be celibate until I get married?”
“When you put it like that, no. That’s not a viable solution either.”
“Pretty sure you said those exact words the last time we had this conversation. Although last time, I was confident the baby was mine.”
She cracks a smile at my paltry attempt at comic relief. As if anything is a laughing matter in this situation.
“You’re a good man, Walsh. No matter what happens, your father and I will support you.”
“Like another grandkid living here?”
“At least I’m over fifty now. The stigma isn’t as bad.”
Now it’s my turn to chuckle. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Never, boy. Just wait until Lennon tells you she’s having a baby at sixteen. See how you react.”
The horror! I’ve considered it before, but the image of Lennon as a teenage mother doesn’t sit right with me.
“Please no. Since we’ll still be living here, we’ll have your help. Then you can blame her for making you a great-grandmother before you’re ready.”
Her hands cover her ears, her face a mask of revulsion. “Don’t say such wretched things.”
“I believe you started it, Millie Keeley.”
Removing one hand, she points her finger at me. “That’s Mom to you. I raised you to have better manners.”
