Page 27 of Pregnant By the Playboy

“I think so.”

“But you don’t know him well? I mean, other than...carnally.”

When I huff out a laugh, she smiles.

“The father is Vince Fong,” I say. “You know who he is?”

“He is a party boy, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Yes, that’s where I met him. At a party. But he’s been good about this, he really has, and he likes kids.” I don’t want my mother to dislike him, even though we’re not together.

She looks away.

Shit.

I never told her when I got pregnant in university. I thought she’d be disappointed in me, and I can’t bear to disappoint my mother. She stayed in this country—where she has no family—after my dad died. For me.

And now I’m knocked up by a notorious playboy. This is not what Good Asian Daughters do.

I’ve never tried to be perfect, but I did want my mother to be proud of me.

“This is not what I imagined,” she admits. “I never wanted to tell you what to do—”

“Why not? Many parents have no qualms about that.”

“Because your father would have hated it.” She shakes her head. “I hoped you would have children, but I know it is not right to demand grandchildren from you. I thought you would get married and have a little family and a good job...I imagined you would have the life that I didn’t. Then when you turned thirty-five, still no man, I wondered if maybe you would go to a sperm bank, because that is what some career women do, isn’t it?”

“He offered to marry me.” I think this might improve her opinion of Vince.

“And you did not accept?”

“I hardly know him.”

“I guess you are right. You should not marry without love. But wouldn’t it be nice... He is rich, yes? Not that money is everything, but when you are poor, you dream of money.” She pauses. “You are happy, though?”

“Yes. I always wanted a child, but not with a sperm donor. I wanted my child to have a second parent because...”

I turn to the side and sniffle into my sleeve.

Grief for a person you don’t remember is an odd thing. Cruelly, my first memory is my father’s funeral. I remember the smell, more than anything. Shoe polish. I remember my mother crying, I remember feeling so confused.

“I understand,” Mom says. “I’m sorry I wanted Cheetos.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

We sit in silence for a moment.

I’ve heard so much about my father, and I’ve seen photos of us together, not just the one on my bedside table. I can picture things in my head. Sometimes, they almost feel like memories, but they’re not.

I force a smile. “I’m going to be a mother.”

It still seems a bit odd to say that, but I’m excited.

“You will be so good at it.” Mom pats my hand. “You know I will give you whatever help I can. I will be the best grandmother. I’ve already had practice!”

I chuckle. “This is true. And the baby will have Vince’s family, too. He has a baby niece. They will be only a year apart. Can you imagine? Having a cousin so close in age?”

“Oh, Marissa,” Mom says. “I am so sorry about everything.”