Page 21 of The Quit List
I actually find lukewarm coffee to be optimal for consuming. Not too hot, not too cold.
And also a fan of Goldilocks, apparently.
Wish we could be drinking coffee together ;)
See, I don’t have the ick at all. He’s just being cute. This is his idea of flirty banter.
Before I lose my nerve—slash lose all hope of ever finding someone to fall in love with—I type out another message.
Want to go for a walk this afternoon?
It would be my pleasure.
8
JAX
I’m going to be an uncle.
Maddie is pregnant, and I’m going to be an uncle.
Not just an uncle… a godfather.
How in the hell am I going to be a godfather?
As I walk through the park in the direction of the bar—Rick trotting along in front of me, blissfully unaware of my current state of shock—I take deep breaths as I process this news.
I feel so unprepared. I don’t think I’ve ever even held a baby before…
What if I drop the freaking thing?
I feel a bit nauseous at the thought. Well, that and probably also Seb and Maddie’s entirely unnecessary, way-too-detailed recounting of their accidental baby making (Sebastian smugly used the words “super sperm,” which really does not bear thinking about).
I’m excited for them, but also very shocked and vaguely terrified… which is probably why I reacted the way I did.
Helpful note to anyone receiving news that their one and only sister is pregnant: probably best not to respond with, “Are you sure it’s not just indigestion?”
Maddie seemed overjoyed by the news, which is good. It’s not like the two of us had the warmest upbringing from which to draw inspiration on how to be a parent, but from what I understand, Seb comes from a relatively normal, loving family, so I’m sure he doesn’t have the same qualms I do about potential fatherhood.
Rick and I are passing a playground and I stop for a moment to look at the mass of screaming children going wild. There’s a flurry of activity orbiting the area as parents cheer for their offspring going down the slide or push their kids on the swings.
“Hello!” A voice speaks from somewhere below me, and I look down to see a little boy with a head full of black curls blinking up at me. “Can I pet your dog, mister?”
Rick loves kids, so his tail starts wagging a mile a minute, but I look in the direction of the kid’s mom and dad for guidance. The mom nods encouragingly. “If it’s okay with you. Jayden loves dogs, but we can’t get him one because his sister is allergic. Breaks our hearts because he wants one so badly, but it’s not possible.”
“Oh, sure,” I reply. “Go ahead, Jayden.”
The kid gives me a huge toothy grin. “Cool, thanks!”
As Jayden bends to pet him, Rick very enthusiastically licks his nose, which makes him laugh and laugh as the mom and dad look on with matching smiles. The dad goes on to absentmindedly loop his arm around his wife’s neck as they watch their son with glowing eyes.
I watch, too, but with something closer to trepidation as the pint-sized boy plays with my dog.
The scene seems so at odds with my own childhood. I mostly remember my dad being absent. He’d spend long days—and nights—at the office. And when he was home, there was just yelling. Constant fighting.
Then one day, my mom left without me. And never came back.
When Maddie and her mother moved in with my dad and me a couple of years later, things were a little better. I was glad to finally have company in that big, empty house, and I loved my stepsister from the word go, but it’s not like we became one big happy family. My dad still spent long nights at work, and Maddie’s mother seemed sad a lot. Threw herself into sitting on boards for charities and spa weekends with her girlfriends.