He felt out of place and out of sorts, but kept his opinions to himself. After all, Andrea was treating, and an Adventurous Wednesday at the Mahle House wasn’t something he’d be able to squeeze into his cash-strapped, here-and-now spreadsheet. But the question ‘Why?’ asserted itself like a steadfast rock thwarting an incoming tide.
Andrea seemed in a weird, celebratory mood… as if she was about to make some kind of big announcement. Buddy hated big announcements, especially if they had anything to do with him. He suspected the night out was a set-up.
She’d been chatty on the drive out, excitedly pointing to features on the landscape like a Walt Disney tour guide. “It’s gorgeous,” she enthused at one point, as if any old horse standing under any leafy tree in any rolling pasture deserved space on a Constable canvas.
“Yeah,” he’d agreed, irritated.
She’d sensed his ennui, focused on driving, looking straight ahead.
I’ve hurt her feelings, he winced.?
“What’s with the yellow bikes?” he asked, sorry he’d dampened her mood, hoping to get them back onto a shared wavelength. They’d passed three or four bikes along Cedar and Yellow Point roads, leaned up against telephone poles, fences, tree trunks, their frames, tires, handlebars—every part of them—spray painted yellow.
Andrea shrugged. “Something about a Yellow Point Trail a community group wants to get built. It’s been in the papers. Thought you’d be keeping up with the local news, being a journalist and all?”
He let the remark pass, like the scenery outside.
They drove on in silence.
“Thanks for the invite,” he tried again. “Sorry if I’m a bit rough around the edges. Still adjusting to my new bachelor status, I guess.”
“Ts’okay,” she flashed a quick, accepting smile.
Forgiven? he hoped.
“When the bottom falls out of your world, you suddenly realize how illusory things can be… how we’re defined as much by what we’re not as by who we think we are.”
“Huh?”
“A donut?” he explained. “It’s not really a donut without its hole, is it?”
Andrea hooted, slapping the steering wheel. “My god!” she laughed. “Is that the whole of your philosophy?”
“The whole hole and nothing but the hole,” he affirmed solemnly.
“Don’t worry, buster, we’ll eat and talk our ways right through that donut tonight, starting from the inside and working out.”
Afteer an appetizer and several courses, he was still wondering exactly what she’d meant by that and what he’d intended with his idiotic affirmation about donut-holiness.
He was relieved when, with a flourish, their waiter delivered their desserts: a dainty portion of cheesecake for him, garnished with a plump strawberry, an artistic signature of chocolate sauce squiggled on its plate; a wedge of chocolate pumpkin mousse for Andrea, which she oohed over.
Maybe we’ll get through this. he began to think.
If he’d been in an extravagant mood, he might have ordered champagne, but she was paying, and he noticed she hadn’t ordered wine with her meal… or beer… or anything other than sparkling water.
Non-drinker? he wondered, then remembered the beer bottles falling off the dining nook table during their romantic night in the rocking Looner Module.
What’s going on here? he frowned.
“About that whole,” Andrea hazarded between bites.
“Huh?”
“The whole-hole you brought up on our way out? Now that we’re into desserts, maybe we can talk?”
“Okay? What about it?”
“Do you believe something can come of nothing?”
“You mean like God creating the earth in seven days, that sort of thing?”
“Nothing quite so epic!” she laughed uneasily.
“Then dial me in. What are we talking about?”
“You’ve got kids, right? Do you remember the moment of conception? Were you and your wife aware of it?”
A silent alarm went off, somewhere deep within his thinking flesh. “I suppose you could say our minds were on other things at the time,” he joked nervously.
“Seriously,” she persisted. “Fertilization can happen within 30 minutes or up to almost a week after sex, so your minds might have gotten up to a lot of things between the act and consummation. But?”
“No,” he said definitively. “We weren’t aware of the exact moment Mr. Sperm met Ms. Egg. What’s this all about?”
“Let’s back up a step or two…”
“Where’s this going?”
“Do you think it might be possible for someone—especially the woman—to know exactly when her child is conceived, to feel it in her whole body?”
“Without a pregnancy test? No!”
“What if I told you I’m pregnant?”
Buddy felt his eyes bulge, his hand stop half-way to his mouth, his mind clench… a sensation like being flash-frozen.
“What?”
Andrea took another bite of her mousse, eying him warily.
“By me?”
She laughed. “Well, Mister, unless it’s a miracle, yes, by you.”
“But…”
“But what?”
“Well, for starters, you can’t possibly know you’re pregnant. It’s a few weeks at least before you can test for that.”
“I know I’m with child,” she insisted inscrutably. “I can feel it.”
“You didn’t take precautions,” he changed tack. “I mean, it never occurred to me that…”
“You could have,” she countered.
But you came onto me! he wanted to shout, barely able to swallow the accusation. “Andrea! It’s been a long time since I’ve had to take precautions. I was sort of caught off guard,” he objected.
“Well… Surprise!”
“So what are we going to do? That is, if your pregnostication proves true.”
“Celebrate?” she smiled.
Something’s wrong here! Buddy panicked. Something’s not right!
“Listen,” she said, locking-on to him with her eyes. “I’m not upset; I’m happy. I want our child.”
“Our child? You mean you’ve decided to have it?”
“It!” Anger flared, her face contorting into a scowl. In an instant, though, she regained her serene composure. “Yes, I intend on having her or him, whatever the gender might be. Let’s refer to our embryo as her/him for the time being, shall we? Not a bad name, come to think of it, Herim. Would work if she turns out to be a girl or a boy. Has a middle-eastern ring to it, don’t you think?”
But I don’t want a kid! Any kind of kid! Of any nationality! Buddy recoiled.
“Look,” she said, “I know this comes as a shock, Buddy, but let it settle for a while, then we can talk. I won’t be asking you for anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Herim will be mine. You don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to. But I’m hoping we can stay friends.”
“He can’t be yours, Andrea,” Buddy groaned. “Half his DNA would be mine. I can’t just shrug that off.”
“I’m glad to hear you say it.” She reached across the table, placing a consoling hand over his.
“Andrea!” he bridled. “I’m not saying I want the child.”
“So, what’s the alternative?” she demanded. “Kill Herim then carry on as if she never was? Kill the idea of Herim, even before she’s a memory?”
“Something’s wrong here,” he said.
Andrea looked puzzled for a second, then fierce. “I didn’t want things to go this way, Buddy. Stupid me. I thought we could celebrate over a couple of glasses of fizzy-water. But whether you’re with me or not on this, I want our baby.”
He sighed deeply, his body slumped forward in surrender. “I need to think, Andrea. I need to go away and think.”
“Do you want me to drive you home?” she offered. “Or call for a cab… I’ll pay.”
“Just need to get out and walk,” he heard himself say. “Get out under the sky and walk. Think and walk.”
Who’s kid is this? he wanted to yell. What kind of set-up is this? But, crazy as her proclamation seemed, he knew she wasn’t lying or conning, that her announcement was entrapment of a different sort, and that she really believes I have fathered her imaginary child.
And as much as he needed to get away, he still loved her. Perhaps even more than he had before her bizarre announcement—not in any way that could be sustained, but deeply, mysteriously, irreparably, the same way planets love their suns.
He stood up deliberately, pushing the chair out from behind his knees. “I’m sorry,” he reached across the table and squeezed her shoulder. “I wish I could share your joy, Andrea, but right now I need to ‘process’, as they say. My head’s full of wasps, and they’re all stinging at the same time.”
“Call me when you’re ready,” she said. “You have to get home somehow. I’ll wait.”
He nodded curtly, then left.
Next: Yellow Brick Road