Becky came over to spend the night again. We fooled around and wound up back in the bedroom rehashing old times. It was in the morning during breakfast that she hit me with the news that she was pregnant. I was pretty upset in that moment and I just reacted.
“What do you mean you’re pregnant,” I said.
“Well, what do you think I mean,” she said. “Apparently, it happened. Now what?”
“Now what? Now what? I’ll tell you what, Becky, you tried to make this happen in high school, but I didn’t fall for it. Now, you just appear out of nowhere, come back into my life, and now you’re pregnant. It’s what you’ve been trying to do forever, Becky. Trying to lock down a guy by getting pregnant. I swear to Christ! You told me you were taking birth control!!”
“I am taking birth control. But, why is this my fault? You were there too, right? I don’t remember you worrying about this when you took me upstairs to your room. It takes two people to make a kid. And I haven’t been trying to “lock down” anyone. You’re an ass, you know that? I don’t why I ever thought it would be a good idea to come back and see you again,” Becky said in a huff.
“Neither do I!” I said as I walked out of the room.
Later that day, I sat her down in the reading room and tried to apologize for flying off the handle. I was wrong. I was completely wrong. Whatever happens from here on out, I have to just man up and be the best father I can to the kid.
But the conversation didn’t go too well. In fact, she went off.
“You think I want to be pregnant? Hell no, Sergio. I don’t even know what to do! I’m not ready for this” She screamed.
“I didn’t plan on this either, Becky,” I said.
“And I thought you, of all people, would actually fucking care,” she said.
“I do care! What the hell are you on about? I care a lot! It’s my kid, too, you know. You’re not in this alone,” I said trying to calm the argument down.
She seemed to get happier after that. At least she stopped arguing at any rate. Then she left. And I didn’t see her again. No phone calls…
…no texts, no emails. Just me wandering around home and work worried about her and the child.
Everything I did reminded me of the fact she was carrying my child. Our child. A child that I helped make. Whatever it should be called.
A few months later I came home from work and found this….
What the hell? There was a note pinned to the crib.
I can’t do this. I’m not ready for kids. I’m moving back to New York. Meet your sons Diego and Antonio. Take care of them – Becky.
There’s two? Oh shit, now what?
What the hell am I going to do with two kids?
Mom? Dad? If you can hear me from wherever you’re at, tell me how to do this.