Page 40 of Slap Shot Surprise
My eyes closed. I couldn’t see any good reason for this.
She took her hand off me. “I’m not here to put pressure on you or trap you into anything, Joe. If you don’t want to be involved, I don’t have to name you as the father. I can just?—”
“What? Fuck that.” Incensed, I opened my eyes and shifted to face her on the couch. “I’m not going to be some deadbeat dad, Mabel. I want to be involved. I want my kid to know me.”
Her eyes filled, and she burst into tears again.
Confused, I ruffled my damp hair. “Did I say the wrong thing?”
“No.” She reached for another tissue. “I was just so scared about your reaction.”
“What did you think I’d do?”
“I wasn’t sure. I mean, we hardly know each other. What if you didn’t believe me that the baby is yours? Orwhat if you didn’t want me to have it? Or what if you just didn’t care at all and told me to get lost?”
“I never would have done any of those things.” But I couldn’t blame her for being afraid—she was right. We hardly knew each other.
“I was trying to be prepared for any reaction, but the entire drive here, I was?—”
“Wait, you drove here?” I interrupted. “By yourself?”
“Yes.”
“How long did it take you?”
“About seven hours. I stopped a couple times.”
I didn’t like thinking about her alone on the road for so long. What if she’d gotten a flat tire or had an emergency? “I would have flown you down.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to tell you about the baby over the phone, and anyway, I couldn’t bring myself to get on a plane. My anxiety was off the charts. It’s not just me I have to worry about anymore, you know?”
My chest ached with an unfamiliar tightness.
“Joe, there’s something you should know about me.” She stopped and considered. “Well, there are probably a lot of things you should know about me, but I’ll start with this one thing, because it has shaped me in so many ways.”
I leaned one elbow on the back of the couch, listening.
“My mom died when I was very small. She had cancer, and it took her really quickly.” She shredded the tissues in her hand as she talked.
“I’m sorry,” I said, the ache in my chest deepening. My mom had had a brush with cancer about a dozen years ago, but thankfully, she’d beaten it and remained in remission. But it had been the worst time of my life. “That must have been hard, growing up without your mom.”
“It was. But my dad was amazing, and I had mybrothers too. And there were aunts and uncles and lots of family friends around—people stepped up and pitched in.” She sniffed, giving me a tearful smile. “But losing her like that left me with this awareness that life is fragile and precious. That you can never take anything for granted. That keeping the people you love safe isn’t always possible—but you try. You do the best you can.” She took a deep breath. “So I drove here instead of getting on a plane.”
Her fear of flying made even more sense to me now. It wasn’t just about some fake fifth grader fortune-teller. “I understand.”
“But I think the loss of her also gave me an appreciation for life,” she went on, her tone growing more hopeful. “And my dad taught us all that while it’s unpredictable, it’s still joyful. I had a wonderful childhood.”
“I have a great dad too,” I said, wondering what he was going to say about this. “He always believed in me. So did my mom.”
“Maybe I can meet them sometime.”
“Sure.” A sharp pain shot between my temples, and I rubbed them with my thumb and forefinger. “So what’s next?”
“I’m going to tell my family.”
“Okay.” I pictured her four menacing brothers coming at me on the ice like two pairs of defensemen, ready to take me out. I’d deserve it.
“And then I’m just going to continue working and teaching, but I’ve already let the college know I won’t be back second semester. The baby is due in April, and I’ll need some time to prepare.”
