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I didn’t hear from him again after that horrible day in my office. I had told him I never wanted to see him again, so I shouldn’t be so surprised. But still, Daniel had proven his persistence in the short time I had known him. He was either hurt by the thought of losing the baby, or he was relieved he had no obligation to me anymore. Both hurt like hell, but the first one made me want to cry every time I thought about it.
It was wrong to lie to him. I knew it was. Every day, I thought about calling him and telling him the truth. I was sick to my stomach just thinking about it. But like Monica said, there was no going back now. The damage was done.
I heard the boarding call for my flight being announced and placed cash on the table, enough to cover my pastry and tea, and a decent tip. I thought for a second about becoming a waitress. Maybe I could find a serving position at an upscale restaurant in Manhattan. The tips had to be good. At least until I found a new job. Although, I doubted anyone would hire someone who was clearly pregnant.
Since being fired, it was like my mind was always in overdrive, trying to find ways to survive as I entered motherhood. Brian said I could stay on until the end of the month, which was generous, considering what had happened. It had been so awkward in the office though. I wasn’t sure how much my coworkers knew, if anything. The thought made my stomach turn. It was bad enough having Brian know. Which was why I was glad to use some of my remaining vacation time to go home to Pittsburgh.
At the gate, I did as Monica instructed and let the front desk know that I was pregnant. She said I would be able to get preboarding, and she was right. I found my seat and settled in before the rest of the passengers. There were some perks to being pregnant. I patted my belly lovingly and looked out the window at the tarmac.
I tried to remember the last time I had been home. It had been too long to recall.
Soon we were up in the air. I spent most of my flight reading and listening to classical music on my headphones. Thankfully, there were crackers and pretzels to tide me over.
The flight was fast, and as we started our descent, I thought about my parents down below. I wondered who had come to pick me up. If they were waiting at the gate or on the curb outside. If they looked the same or older. I took a deep breath as the wheels touched down on the tarmac, as I was about to find out.
I rolled my suitcase off the plane and through the tunnel that spit me out at the gate. I looked around timidly and spotted my father leaning against a pillar. I was relieved he had come alone. He and I had always been closer than my mother and I.
I studied him for a little bit before he got the chance to notice me. His hair had more gray and looked like it was thinning slightly. There were more wrinkles sprinkled around his eyes and carved into his forehead. He had put on a little weight in his belly. We were the same in that regard.
My heart swelled, realizing how much I missed him over the years. But then I remembered why I even had to miss him in the first place.
His eyes found mine and I gave a nervous wave before walking over.
“Hi, honey,” he said with a single nod.
“Hey, Dad.”
His eyes fell to my belly and I held my breath, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he silently took my suitcase and began rolling it toward the elevators for the parking garage. I slid into the sedan he had been driving since I was a teenager. He refused to sell it. I laughed softly as I closed the door. My parents were nothing if not stubborn.
The ride home was silent, if not for small bouts of awkward small talk. The weather. Brooklyn. His beloved Pittsburgh Penguins. Everything but my protruding bump and what it meant.
When my father pulled into the driveway, the sun was beginning to set. I saw Mom sitting on the porch on the swing I remembered from my childhood. She didn’t stand up when she saw us park. Her lack of acknowledgment didn’t hide the coldness in her eyes that I could feel from twenty feet away. I swallowed hard. Maybe this had been a bad idea.
I walked up the steps as my father pulled the suitcase behind me.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.
Her hair was shorter and darker than I remember. Her skin had more spots on it and I couldn’t tell if her brows were furrowed or if her wrinkles were just prominent.
“Addison,” she said, standing and giving me a stiff hug.
“Thanks for having me.” I gave her my best smile.
“You didn’t really give us a choice when you said you were coming.”
“Right,” I said, ignoring the dagger she had just thrown. “I just thought it would be good for us.”
“Well, come in.” She led the way through the front door.
As I stepped inside, it felt like I had entered a time warp. Everything looked the same. Smelled the same. I took it all in as I spun in a slow circle.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” said my mom. “You can get settled upstairs in your old room.”
“Thanks,” I replied.
Up in my room, I realized nothing in there had changed at all. It still looked the same as it did in high school. My posters were still on the walls. The same floral sheets were on the bed. My jewelry box was still on the dresser and I opened it, listening as it played the familiar tune. I watched as the ballerina spun. I found it odd they had kept the room the same after our falling out.
An hour later, right on time, my mom announced from downstairs that dinner was ready. I met my parents at the small dining nook in the kitchen. The table was set for three and a big bowl of spaghetti sat in the middle of the table. My mother’s signature dish.