Page 79 of Size King
“I’ve been pretty sick lately,” she says. “It’s not really morning sickness, but it’s definitely in the same family. Eh, maybe itismorning sickness, I don’t know. Maybe I’m in denial about it. I don’t want fucking morning sickness.”
“What can I do for you to make it not as bad?” I ask, hoping to help.
“There isn’t much to do really,” she says. “There’s nothing reallyyoucan do. I appreciate you looking out for me. But right now, as long as you have a toilet and garbage cans nearby, that’s all the help I need. Thanks, Mason.”
“Surely, there’s home remedies and stuff we could do to help make your morning sickness not suck so bad,” I say. “There’s got to be something we can do.”
“I’m sure there are things online that give ideas,” she says. “I am thinking of looking for these things Emma was telling me about the other day. There are apparently these suckers—like candy kind of things—you suck on them and eat them, and supposedly, they help take the edge off morning sickness. I want to look into them and test them out to see how they do.”
“Where do they sell something like that? I’ve never even heard of that—suckers that help with morning sickness? Suckers? Like what you get at the doctor’s office?”
“Yeah, a sucker—a lollypop. They don’t taste good like lollypops, but I’m willing to take whatever works.”
“Definitely,” I agree. “Do you want to try and get those today? Is there anything you need to do today? Or want to do?”
“There are a couple of things I need to do back in town,” she says. “They can wait. I’m not in a hurry.”
“Well, you can stay here as long as you want,” I tell her. “I’m not in a hurry, either.”
She bites her lip, continuing to play with her food. “So, what about you?”
“What about me?”
“How’veyoubeen feeling about everything?” she asks. “This is all a lot to take in and live with. I am wondering where you were lately.”
I want to give her a thought out, concise answer, but I have been all over the place emotionally and mentally since she gave me the news.
“You can be honest,” she says, reading my apprehension to answer her. “We barely know each other. If you resent me, or if you’re thinking of changing your name and moving, you can tell me. I won’t be upset, offended, or hurt. I want your honest answer, no matter what it is.”
I had fallen for the trap women often set before—the one where they say you won’t get in trouble as long as you tell them the truth; parents use similar tactics with their children, too. I want to give her the whole truth, but that is hard to do when the truth is hard to discern in the first place. So, I speak from my heart.
“When you first told me that you were pregnant, I was shocked. I didn’t expect to get anyone pregnant for a long time—if ever. It’s all still a lot to absorb, but I’m good. I think I’m past the panicking and existential crisis. Now, I think I’m at the point where I’m ready and able to do whatever I have to for you and this baby.”
She is certainly not expecting that answer. I get up, pick up our plates, and begin cleaning up the kitchen.
“Although,” I tell her, “I have to admit, this whole thing is a mindfuck.”
“Tell me about it.” She laughs.
“So, when are we heading back to L.A.?” I ask her.
She looks at me guiltily. “I hate having you drive all that way four times in a day. We don’t have to go to L.A. right now.”
“I want to get you those suckers,” I say. “Besides, I love L.A. I know where everything is, so it’s good that I’d be coming down with you anyway.”
“Okay,” she says, smiling. “I’m so glad you’re going to be with me. Thanks, Mason.”
“You’re quite welcome, happy to take you,” I say. “Besides, I can write off all this gas I’m using on my taxes. I’m taking you shoppingandmaking money.”
31
Jillian
Mason is unable to drive us as quickly down the interstate as he had the night before because the traffic is brutal, even for L.A. I mostly look down at my phone, but our minds are connected and sharing the same wavelength. I wonder what else he is going to do to show me more of how he isn’t a typical man.
During the drive, I decide that the first thing I am going to do after I get back is get my nails done. I am looking at my fingernails and toenails in boredom during the shitty traffic, and I keep noticing the same cracks and imperfections over and over. I want to do something about them as soon as possible. It is important to my image as a model. When I tell him how I am planning to do that, he says he will go with me. I tell him he can just drop me at the salon and go back to his house or do something else in L.A., but he chooses to go with me. I am more surprised that he decides to go watch me get my nails done than I am at his calm demeanor in the face of impending fatherhood.
We are in a shopping plaza center near where I live and where Emma often goes to get her nails done. I like the job they are doing, and it isn’t as expensive as I feared it would be. Mason watches the TV they have on in the place, casually observing the romantic comedy that is playing. He waits there patiently, never looking bored. Often when I look over at him, he smiles and nods at me. A lot of the other women around me are as surprised by his behavior as I am. What man would ever willingly go and relax with a girl while she gets a Mani-Pedi? It makes less sense to me than getting pregnant after wearing a condom.