For You, The Stars
Chapter Seven, installment 2
I got into a routine of spending nearly every weekend up in Marin. Usually on Sunday night we’d smoke a joint with Cecilia’s sister and brother-in-law and then fire up the hot tub. We’d end up going to be late and in the morning when the alarm went off I’d be totally not in the mood to dress in the work clothes I’d packed, walk down to the bus stop and ride across the Golden Gate Bridge to work.
I got in the habit of calling in sick just about every other Monday. Though I didn’t particularly want to get fired, the job never seemed important compared to sleeping in in Cecilia’s warm bed and then spending a relaxing day with her babysitting and sunbathing, listening to music and when the baby was asleep sometimes, getting high.
As I was getting ready to take the bus into the city one Monday evening (Cecilia never walked me to the bus stop - she usually waved goodbye from the garage just outside the door to her room), out of the blue she said, “My period’s overdue.”
“How late?”
“Four days.”
“Shit, are you usually pretty regular?”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t want to miss my bus so I said, “Can we talk about this on the phone tonight?”
“Like, whatever,” she said.
I called her before going to bed and said, “Well…”
“Well, what?”
“Did you get it yet?”
“Uh… no,” she said, like I was an idiot. But it was possible.
“I’ve never been in this situation before,” I said.
“Well neither have I,” she said, as if she was offended that I was trying to imply that maybe she had.
“Well I didn’t know,” I said.
This was not like me, I thought. I felt kind of like I had after cheating on Simone. Like I was turning into someone I didn’t recognize. I had felt like things were so much more straightforward with Cecilia. We had an open relationship, so it was impossible to cheat and I didn’t have to put on a false front.
Once again, though, I somehow had managed to violate my own personal code. I mean, I never had sex without protection. I wasn’t one of those guys who complained about condoms and tried to get out of using them. Sure, I preferred it if the girl was on the pill or had a diaphragm or whatever, but it’s not like I thought it was her sole responsibility.
I was the kind of guy who talked these things over in advance, even at the expense of spontaneity.
I was a good guy.
That’s what I used to think. Now I was thinking if Cecilia was pregnant it was because of me, because of impulsive in-the-door-way sex, with no protection. Because of my misreading the signals and finishing up inside her. Although, what was I supposed to do? It felt right at the time. It felt like what she wanted. I thought she wanted me to take risks and be cool. What did I know?
“Have you thought about what we should do if—?”
“If I’m pregnant?” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Of course I’ve thought about it,” she said.
“I’ll support whatever decision you make,” I said, being the good guy again, in my own mind. “And if you decide, you know, to get an abortion— or whatever— of course I’ll pay my share.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said.
“Wow,” I said. “We could actually have a kid. I’ve never gotten anyone pregnant.”
“Yeah, cool,” she said, sarcastically.
When Dave got home from his work on the peninsula, I told him about my possible predicament.
We were sitting in the living room with English Settlement playing quietly on the stereo.
“Whew,” he whistled. “That sucks.”
“I know,” I said. “I feel like an idiot. This is what happens to stupid people.”
“What are you going to do?”
“It’s not my decision,” I said. “Whatever she wants to do I’ll go along with.”
“Really? You don’t care one way or the other?”
“It’s not that I don’t care— I just don’t think it should be up to me. I mean if she asks my opinion I’ll give it to her.”
“What is your opinion?”
“I don’t really know,” I said. “This has never happened to me before.”
“I can’t see you raising a kid.”
“Yeah, that isn’t going to happen. I mean, we’re both Catholic, technically. I don’t even really know how she feels about abortion. I know some of her friends have had them. We’ve talked about that. Girls today seem to take it for granted as something that might have to happen.
“If she does have a baby, though, I think we’d have to give it up for adoption.”
“That would be weird, knowing you had a kid out there,” said Dave.
“I know,” I said. “I’ll tell you something really weird, though.”
“What?”
“I know it sounds stupid, but in a way I feel kind of proud of this. Like… I dont want to make a baby but I guess now I know I can, or maybe I do. I don’t actually know. But just thinking about the possibility, in a weird way it seems kind of cool.”
“I don’t think that’s weird but it’s definitely not cool.”
I called her again from work the next day.
“We could get married,” I said, bluffing.
“Yeah, right,” she said.
“Well, we could.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I think we would have a cool baby.”
“Yeah, you’re looks and my brains,” she said.
“Oh, shut up,” I said. “How many times do I have to tell you you’re smart before you’ll believe me?”
I waited for her to tell me I was good looking too, but she plowed ahead.
“I’m not ready to have a baby,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “Me neither.”
“For one thing, it would mess up my body, my hips. Nothing would fit.”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. “That too. Look, maybe this is just a fluke.”
We were still on the phone talking about random stuff when my boss stuck his head around my cubicle wall and asked me to come into his office.