The next morning, at Witherspoons, Jerry said, “So, let’s look at our options.”
“Jerry, it’s impossible to look at anything but your Santa Claus mustache.”
“Sorry.” He wiped the cappuccino foam off his upper lip. “I’m bushwhacking through a jungle of pulsating synapses, help me out here. And speaking of God, how does He weigh in on this?”
“You’re talking to the wrong person. I see no God, hear no God, speak no God.”
“You ever notice how chatty I get when I’m drinking caffeine? I love this stuff. I love the conversation…
“Monolog.”
“…that takes place under the influence, it’s so much better than pot conversation, too out there, like what the fuck are you talking about, dude? Or booze conversation, which is more you know, I’ve been waiting a long time to tell you this, but I fucked your best friend, yeah, that kind of talk, what a disaster, but caffeine talk, that’s my kind of talk, serious discourse, serious back and forth…”
“More forth, less back.”
“…with ideas. No, really, I want some back. What is your back?”
“On what? Seriously, you’re like free associating.”
“On how God…”
“Screw God. Don’t invoke him anymore, ok?”
“Right. On how we got here here. I mean here. I mean, we have a new life in your belly.”
“Uterus.”
“Whatever…a new life which suddenly makes our lives, or I’ll speak for myself, my life way more real, way more pregnant with meaning – excuse the pun – way more what choice I make will effect the rest of my life and yours.”
“Ok.”
“What.”
“I got something to say.”
“OK.”
“It’s not so heavy, Jerry. It’s not such a universal big deal. Nature doesn’t give a shit. It’s just another day in the neighborhood. Look, this is how it started. You were feeling up peaches in the Co-op, and I intervened and offered my peaches. We clicked. I dig you. You dig me. We have great sex. And I made a mistake. I got too smart for my britches. I’m extremely regular. I know when I’m about to ovulate, but something went wrong. I ovulated. There were no barriers. Your guy zapped my gal, and now there’s cell replication going on.”
“Ok, let me spin that just a wee bit,” said Jerry. “Since you and I were born, we were fated to meet. God…”
“Mention God one more time and I’m going to spew chunks on you.”
“Sorry. We were fated to meet so that we could bring a new life into this world.”
“Not buying it, not for a wee second. We, Jerry, you and me we, we are masters of our fate, not something out there, and especially, not a bunch of cells inside me.” She leaned close and dove into his eyes. “I’m torn. I am. I want this, but the point is, this is not the time. We are both too young, too immature, too selfish to be saddled with a child. We don’t even know if you and me are partners for life. I don’t know, honestly, if you’re the one. You could be, but I don’t know, and I don’t want a third party, namely a clump of cells making that decision for me. This is the 20th century. We have the equipment to correct this detour and get us back on track with growing up slow. That’s a privilege, I know, but it’s also the best way to secure the best life for us and for eventually our children. Doesn’t that make sense?”
Jerry looked away. He stared at a giant cumulous cloud roiling upwards, deepening gray to black, so full, so explosive. He took a deep breath and turned back to her.
“Why does it hurt?” he said.
“I know.” She reached across the table and took his hand, and they both retreated into their thoughts as they held on.
***
“So…I’ve got a situation here that requires my presence, and it means I’m not going to be able to come home for Christmas,” said Jerry.
His mom and dad were silent on the other end of the telephone.
“This better be good,” his dad said.
“Well, it’s like this. I’m involved with a woman named Chloe, and she is pregnant and is having an abortion, and I need to be with her, and I hope you understand.”
Silence.
“Oh, Jerry, how can you go out with a woman like that?” said his mom.
His dad said, “Is there anything you need? Money?”
“No, thanks, we’re OK. And mom, she’s not a woman ‘like that.’ She’s a wonderful, smart, funny, sensitive, vibrant woman. We just messed up, that’s all.”
Jerry listened to flecks of static.
“Well, we will miss you,” said his mom sounding tired, “but you know what’s best.”
“Thanks. Thanks for understanding.”
The next day, when Jerry returned home from work, an eye-catching arrangement of white daisies with blue iris accents lay at the door.
“We are here if you need us. Love, Mom and Dad,” read the note.
He was stunned. Never did he expect such support from his parents. The flowers cooled his burning shame.
“Mom, thank you so much for the flowers,” Jerry said over the phone.
“What flowers?”
“Is dad there?”
“Let me get your father.”
“Thank you so much for the flowers,” said Jerry.
“Anything you need.”