'Surprise!', by Steve Slavin
1
“I think I’m pregnant.”
These four words ignited fear – even terror – in the ranks of unmarried American men of all ages, races, religions, and economic means. So why should I be any different?
Like my girlfriend Elizabeth, I was halfway through college, and supported myself with a crappy part-time job. How could we possibly manage if she decided to have the baby?
“I’m a week late.”
I sat there stunned, my head in my hands, having assumed the position taken by most other men who found themselves in my situation. Elizabeth, channeling her own counterparts, stood facing me, her arms folded across her chest.
Elizabeth waited. I had to say something. After about thirty seconds, the best I could up with was, “What do you want to do?”
Before the words were out of my mouth, I knew they weren’t what she wanted to hear. So, I quickly added.
“Look, we are both in this thing together!”
“Fine!
I knew, of course, that she meant “Not fine!”
She started pacing back and forth, neither of us saying a word. Suddenly she grabbed her coat, strode to the door, and was gone.
I debated if I should rush after her. But what would I say? I needed time to think, but what decent solution could I come up with?
The next day I went to my classes as if nothing had happened. I thought of calling her, but I knew she’d probably hang up on me. And she’d be right. What she needed from me was a way out of a situation I had helped to create.
After a few days, I broke down and called her, but I got her machine. I left a message. The next day I left another message.
Was she going to get an abortion? Did she intend to have the baby? Was she scared? Would she do something to herself?
I grew more and more alarmed. But I soon realized that there was something else going on with me. I began to realize -- as we often put it in those days — that just maybe I wasn’t that into her.
Yeah, she seemed to have all the basics that guys my age claimed to want – looks, personality, intelligence. So, what was there not to like?
Well, for one thing, she was kind of moody. We’d be at a restaurant, and suddenly she’d push away her plate, declaring that she wasn’t hungry. The unspoken message was, “Let’s get out of here!” Or we’d be at a party, and she’d spend the entire evening talking to some guy she just met.
It’s not that we had an exclusive relationship, but I never really knew where I stood with her. On the other hand, I was hardly any bundle of joy.
Then, I thought, maybe this was just her way of breaking up me. Maybe she wasn’t pregnant at all, and this was either a way of testing me, or else it was her way of breaking up.
Still, after not hearing back from her, I began to grow more and more alarmed. I called a couple of her friends, but they told me they hadn’t heard from her either. Just when I began to consider calling her parents, one of her friends got back to me.
“Elizabeth quit school and moved to California. That’s all I know. She left a message on my machine. She didn’t leave a phone number or an address.”
“Did you get the impression that she was acting strange lately?”
Her friend laughed. “Since I’ve known her, Elizabeth has always acted a little strange.”
Now we were both laughing. I felt a great burden begin to lift. This was no longer my problem. I could get on with my life.
From this point on, I would be much more careful – not just in my choice of girlfriends or in my sex life – but in not getting into situations that could end badly. I looked back at my relationship with Elizabeth as one of life’s great learning experiences.
2
Six years later I was living with a housemate in a ramshackle three-story brick building located on the ass-end of Carroll Gardens, an old Italian neighborhood of brownstones that was gradually gentrifying. But my building was just down the block from the putrid Gowanus Canal, in an area zoned for light industry such as the barnlike structure directly across the street where they repaired huge trucks.
But, if nothing else, the price was right, and our building was habitable. Mike was a grad student and I had put my college degree to great use, working for the post office and partying every weekend.
Mike and I each had our own floor, and we rented out the first floor to a couple of dozen artists who had twenty-four-hour access and ample storage space. Not only did we live rent free, but we each cleared about $500 a month in rent.
Mike and I had met at Brooklyn College, where he was a psychology major and I was known as a “cafeteria major.” This was a term reserved for students who apparently spent more time hanging out in the cafeteria – which was not exactly known for its great cuisine – than studying.
Mike often joined me in the cafeteria, but he was clearly a very serious student who had a pretty good idea what he wanted to do with his life. Soon, another student, an art history major, joined us to form what we called “the Big Three.” We called Anna “the rich kid,” because, well, her parents were pretty rich. She sometimes joked that only rich kids could afford to major in art history, because even after getting an advanced degree the only employment status they could look forward to was a lifetime of being unemployed.
The three of us used to plot what we would do after we graduated. Mike and Anna immediately enrolled in grad school, while I needed to make up several incompletes before they would give me my diploma. Then, after a six-month active-duty stint with the Army Reserve, I got a job as a part-time mail sorter at the main post office in downtown Brooklyn.
So even though I was still trying to figure out what to do with my life, I could have been doing a lot worse. Late one weekday afternoon, Mike knocked on my door. When I opened it, he announced very formally, “You have guests!”
Mike stepped aside, and when I came out into the hallway, I literally got the shock of my life. There was Elizabeth, holding the hand of a smiling little girl.
I just stood there, my mouth wide open. For several seconds, no one said anything. Then, the little girl said, “Hi, I’m Jenny.”
She held out her hand and I bent down and shook hands with her.
“Glad to meet you. I’m Steve.”
“I know. Mom told me all about you.”
“I hope she said good things.”
I waited.
“Well…. Mostly good.”
“Hey! Why are we standing out in the hall? Please, come into my humble abode.”
Mike and I picked up their luggage and brought it into my apartment.
I was almost in a state of shock, but I knew I had to hold it together at least until I could figure out what was going on. Then Mike excused himself, and the three of us settled down in the living room.
“I guess we have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Yes, Steve! Why don’t you go first?”
“Well,” I said, “waving my arm around the room, “you can see how I’ve prospered.”
She smiled. “Oh yes! This is a veritable palace. I love what you’ve done with your windows.”
“Yes, this is the best plastic sheeting you can buy on Atlantic Avenue.”
Jenny smiled, listening to our exchange. She seemed to be an adorable little girl.
“So, tell me, what brings the two of you to New York?”
“Didn’t you get my messages?”
“What messages?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry! We must have gotten our signals crossed.”
“I had no idea you were coming to New York.”
“Well, it’s just for a few days, until we get our passports.”
“You’re going on a trip? Abroad?”
“Of course! Well, since you didn’t get my messages, I’ll start at the beginning.”
“Did you try calling me? Did you have my phone number?”
“Oh no! I thought we had been communicating telepathically.”
“What?”
“Never mind! Let me bring you up to date.”
Jenny was watching what must have appeared to her like a ping pong match. I kept stealing looks at her, trying to figure out what was going on here. For the last six years, I had often wondered what had happened after Elizabeth disappeared. I guess I would be finding out very soon.
3
Three days ago, they’d boarded a bus, and rode day and night all the way to New York. Once they had obtained their passports, they would fly to Majorca, an island in the Mediterranean that is part of Spain. Did she know people there who had invited her? Hopefully, they had not communicated telepathically.
She had indeed gone to California, where she’d taken up with an old boyfriend who had moved there a year before, and about five months later, they got married.
When she noticed my stare, she smiled broadly. “You see, we kind of had to, if you get my drift.”
I let out a deep breath of relief.
“And so, you see Steve, you’re completely off the hook.”
“What kind of hook were you on?” asked Jenny.
“Do you know the hook that you can hang clothes on?”
“Of course!”
“Well, your mom remembers how I used to like to hang myself on those hooks just for the fun of it.”
“You’re lying!” she exclaimed.
“Jenny, I guess I just can’t fool you. By the way, Elizabeth, does your husband know you’re where you are?”
“Well, we just got here! I guess we should let him know.”
“You can use the wall phone behind you.”
I decided that this would be a good time to take Jenny for a tour of the apartment.
When we got to the front room, she asked why I had a big wooden box.
“That’s a sauna.”
“Really? Is there steam in it?”
“There is when you turn it on.”
“Can we turn it on now?”
“Maybe later. Did you bring your bathing suit?”
“Of course!”
“Then you’ll be able to go in there with your mom. She brought hers too, right.”
“Yes!”
Just then, we heard Elizabeth yelling into the phone. I looked at Jenny and shrugged. She shrugged back.
We went back into the living room and Elizabeth held the phone out to me. “Tom wants to talk to you.”
I took the phone.
“Hello, Tom?”
“Yeah, is this Steve?”
“Yes.”
“Just to set the record straight. Elizabeth was doing all the yelling.”
“So noted.”
“Did you know that she just left with Jenny, our daughter, three days ago, without a word? She picks Jenny up after school every afternoon while I’m at work. When I came home, they weren’t here. No note. Nothing.”
“Did you call the police? No, I called a couple of her friends. One of them said that Elizabeth had been planning a trip to Majorca. Then I heard from another of her friends that she and Jenny were on their way to New York by bus.”
“Yes, they turned up on my doorstep about half an hour ago. I suggested that she let you know they had arrived safely.”
“So, Steve, you had no idea that they were coming?”
“That would be a bit of an understatement. I haven’t been in touch with Elizabeth for six years.”
“Look, I sorry to have gotten you involved in this. And I’m not going into all the trouble we’ve been having. I’m greatly relieved that my daughter is OK.”
“She’s fine.”
When I paused, Tom let out a deep breath. “Look, Steve, Elizabeth is very deeply troubled, and things have been very bad between us for some time. I really don’t know what to do.”
I noticed that Jenny had taken Elizabeth to look at the sauna.
“Tom, I know that your first priority is to get Jenny safely back home. I can try to put the two of them on a plane back to California maybe in a day or two. Would you be able to meet them and take it from there?”
“Definitely.”
“OK, let me jot down your number, and then I’m going to put Jenny on the phone with you.”
4
A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. There was Mike, wearing a white apron. He stepped inside and announced, “Dinner is served.”
We went downstairs to his apartment, which was not that different from mine—hand-me-down furniture, mismatched table settings, and a lot of photos on the walls. Jenny observed, “You don’t have a sauna.”
“No, I’m just a struggling student. But Steve lets me use his.”
“You’re still in college?” asked Elizabeth.
“No, I’m struggling through graduate school.”
“What is graduate school?” asked Jenny. “Does that mean you didn’t graduate school yet?”
“Actually, that’s a very good guess. It’s a school you go to after you graduate from college.”
“Really? In September I’m going into the first grade. But I can already read.”
“Wow!” said Mike. “It took me a couple of years to learn.”
“So, what were you guys eating when you were on the road?”
“Crap!” declared Jenny. “Candy, pizza, potato chips, and ice cream!”
Elizabeth looked at her daughter, but didn’t say anything.
Mike and I were laughing. Then Jenny asked, “Do you guys like crap too? It tastes much better than regular food.”
Mike and I nodded. Elizabeth did not appear to be amused, but then even she smiled.
Right after dinner Elizabeth and Jenny changed into their bathing suits and climbed into the sauna. I set the timer for fifteen minutes and then made up the sofa-bed in the front room. By eight o’clock the two of them were clearly out for the night.
“Let’s go downstairs so we can talk,” suggested Mike.
“Excellent! I look forward to hearing your complete diagnosis, Doctor Goodman.”
Mike was about halfway through a PhD program in psychology at the City University. He kidded that made him just a half-doctor.
“Do you think she’s having a nervous breakdown?”
“Let me preface my opinion by stressing that I have had virtually no clinical training yet, so my knowledge is limited to my readings in my introductory general psych courses.”
“That’s a lot more reading than I’ve done on this subject.”
“OK, Steve, here’s my impression. She’s clearly not having a nervous breakdown. She just successfully planned and carried out an arduous trip across the country with a five-year-old child.
“Is doing that maybe a little meshuggah? (Yiddish for crazy) Of course, it is! But she’s actually functioning fairly well.”
“So, Jenny is not in any clear and present danger.”
“Definitely not! And she’s certainly safer with us around.”
“But what if neither of us had been home? Or, if I hadn’t agreed to take them in?”
“Maybe she knew that you would. Or, she might have had a Plan B.”
“So, what’s our next move?”
“I think we’ll know a lot more tomorrow. Didn’t she say something about picking up their passports?”
“That’s right!”
“So why don’t we wait to see what happens?”
5
The next morning, Elizabeth and Jenny left for the passport office. When they returned in the late afternoon, I was back from work. We ordered in some Chinese food, and then Elizabeth provided a blow-by-blow description of what had taken place at the office. The bottom line was that they would have to wait at least another week for their passports.
“Why did you need to come to New York to get them? Couldn’t they have been sent to your home?”
“Of course, but then what if Tom saw them. He’d have put two and two together and figured out what we were up to.”
‘So, he had no idea you were planning to take Jenny to Majorca?”
“No,” replied Jenny. “It was a big secret!”
“That’s right! And Jenny never said a word.”
“Not one word,” added Jenny.
I just shook my head in disbelief. I’m sure Elizabeth was breaking some kind of state law by sneaking off with their daughter to another country without informing her husband. But, of course, not only was I no psychiatrist, I was also no lawyer.
I just shook my head in disbelief. The thought even crossed my mind that I might be aiding and abetting in the commission of a crime.
Well, now that the cat was out of the bag, I hoped that we could work something out so the two of them could return to California. Also, even though I never met the guy, I was feeling pretty sorry for Tom.
After dinner, I suggested that Elizabeth call Tom to update him on the events of the day. She pointed out the time difference, so we waited another hour and then she made the call.
Suddenly, I had an inspiration. “How would you guys like to meet a friend of mine? Her name is Anna.”
“That name sounds familiar,” said Elizabeth.
“Yeah, I met her at Brooklyn College. She, Mike and I were ‘The Big Three.”
“Did I ever meet her?”
“You might have. She was an art history major.”
“Well, maybe if I saw her face.”
“I’ll tell you what. She lives just a few blocks from her. I can give her a call.”
6
A half-hour later, The Big Three, along with Elizabeth and Jenny, were sitting around my living room just shooting the breeze. Anna had brought over a sketch pad, and was encouraging Jenny to draw everyone’s portraits.
Elizabeth and Tom had had a much more civil conversation, and she reported that she was even considering going back to California. It appeared that this might end up being an enjoyable visit after all, especially considering the circumstances.
Still, there was something bothering me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, but I had a vague suspicion that there might still be things that hadn’t yet been resolved.
In the meanwhile, Anna was reporting the latest news about a great business venture that we had been planning. Her parents had agreed to put up the money to buy a derelict building in the neighborhood. As far as anyone could remember, it had been an animal pound owned by the City. Although the animals were long since gone, the building’s odor rivaled that of the Gowanus Canal.
Not only was the building an eye-and-nose-sore, but the City was anxious to get it back on the tax rolls. It was structurally sound, but would need to be completely gutted. The only question had been what The Big Three would do with the building. It had now been settled that it would be used almost entirely for artists’ work spaces.
The next day, Anna took Elizabeth and Jenny for a look at the building they were buying. But that would have to be just from the outside, since they had not yet taken title to the building, and also because of its unsafe condition. But when they arrived, a friendly watchman unlocked the front door and let them step inside for a couple of minutes.
Anna told Jenny and Elizabeth that she had inherited her interest in art from her parents. And they, in turn, had not taken an interest in art until they were out of high school.
During World War II, when her father, Joey was still a teenager, he had been drafted into the army, and stationed in Italy as a translator. His parents, who had both emigrated from Italy when they were children, spoke Italian at home. So, their son was quite fluent.
Joey used most of his free time visiting with the locals, almost all of whom were desperately poor. Some of them offered to sell him their paintings for just a few dollars a-piece. Anna’s father, who had always loved classical Italian art, was distressed at their desperation.
Joey wrote home to his parents, who had prospered during the war, and they sent him two thousand dollars. He gave each of the sellers three or four times as much money as they had asked for, and sent dozens of paintings back home.
Days after Joey returned, neighbors, old friends, and then even complete strangers began asking how much he wanted for some of the paintings. When he began getting offers of hundreds of dollars, he knew he was onto a good thing.
A few months after Joey’s army discharge, he married his high school sweetheart, Theresa, and the two of them went to Italy on their honeymoon. That one-month-long honeymoon stretched to two months, then three months, and eventually to a full year. The newlyweds were busy buying more and more paintings.
After a few months, they moved on to France, and eventually to the Netherlands. Everywhere they went, they found desperately poor people willing to sell their paintings literally for pennies on the dollar. But Anna’s parents always insisted on paying them substantially more. It would become a family joke that their honeymoon was fully tax-deductible.
Upon their return from Europe, they shifted gears, slowly selling off some of their paintings for hundreds of dollars apiece, and were soon receiving offers in the thousands. On the anniversary of their marriage, they went back to Europe on a second honeymoon and scooped up still more paintings at bargain basement prices. After returning to the U.S., they soon became known as Brooklyn’s first family of art dealing.
For Anna, the decision to study art history was a “no-brainer.” Recognizing at a young age that she had minimal talents at drawing and painting, but growing up with beautiful paintings all around her, she decided to major in art history by the time she was in middle school. She thought she might enjoy a college teaching career, but while studying for her MFA, it began to dawn on her that virtually all the successful art historians were men. She could always work for her parents, but when she saw what Mike and I had done renting out space to neighborhood artists, Anna soon realized that she would like to do something like that, but on a much grander scale.
Her canvas would be the seven-story they would call “The Pound.” Hundreds of artists could paint there 24/7 paying rent of just a dollar or so a day. They would also be able to show their work, and many might go on to fortune and fame.
7
That evening, Elizabeth’s mood seemed to improve still more. She had thoroughly enjoyed their day with Anna, who took them on a tour of the art galleries and antique stores on Atlantic Avenue. When they finally returned, they brought several containers of Syrian food – hummus, baba ganoush, shish kebob, grape leaves, pita bread, and, of course, baklava and halvah.
Again, Elizabeth was on the phone with Tom. And it appeared that they might have come to some kind of reconciliation. After she hung up and reported this, I was surprised that instead of feeling relief, I seemed to be experiencing a growing agitation.
This was strange, because everything was finally getting straightened out. But I seemed to be having second thoughts about what had been happening not just during the last couple of days, but perhaps over a much longer period.
After dinner, Anna passed around some of Jenny’s sketches. Everyone complimented her artwork, and we all laughed at how we had been portrayed. I protested that I certainly did not have such a big potbelly, but Mike teased that I did after all that Syrian food I had just packed away.
Jenny was very pleased to hear so much praise, but she hoped that maybe after Anna continued helping her, her work would improve.
“Yeah,” added Mike. “Maybe she could help you draw smaller noses!”
Everyone laughed. When Jenny started yawning, Elizabeth asked everyone to excuse them after their long day. Again, she thanked Anna and left to put Jenny to bed.
After they were gone, Anna outlined the business agreement she and her parents had drawn up. They would own twenty percent of the business, she would own forty percent, and Mike and I would each own twenty percent.
“That’s very generous,” said Mike. “Steve and I haven’t put a penny into this.”
“Well, you know what sweat equity is. So, we’ll sweat it out of you.”
We all smiled.
“What really impressed my parents was how you guys came up with this scam—oops, I mean this scheme—renting out your storefront to so many artists at the same time.”
“It’s not all that impressive when you think about it. While every artist would love to have their own studio, few can afford one. Now, by sharing the space, and being able to work all hours of the day and night, they can have all the studio space they need at a small fraction of the price they would have had to pay.”
“Easy for you to say, Mike, but not so easy to do,” replied Anna.
“I’ll tell you something funny. It wasn’t even our idea. Did you ever hear of a dude named Richard Rappaport?”
“No. Is he an artist?”
“I don’t think so. He rents out a floor in a loft building on East 18th Street between Broadway and Fifth – just a block or so from Union Square. He must have at least a hundred artists coming and going.
“So, he does what you do?”
“Yeah, but he did it first, and on a much, much grander scale. The reason it works is that not everyone shows up at the same time.”
“Well, if things go as planned, we’ll not only be bigger than Richard Rappaport, but we’ll be much better.”
8
After Anna yawned for the third or fourth time, Mike offered to walk her home. I then decided to call Tom. After filling him in on the day’s events, I mentioned that Elizabeth seemed to be growing more amenable to returning home.
Tom let out a sigh of relief. “You know, Steve, our marriage has not exactly been a bed of roses, but I just don’t know what more I can do.”
“So, you still feel you’ve at least got a shot at making everything work?”
“Well, what’s my alternative?”
“I suppose there’s always at least one.”
“Sure, but if the alternative is even worse than the current situation, then what’s the point?”
“Tom, I’m not going to claim that everything will turn out for the best, but at least we seemed to have pulled back from the crisis we were in two days ago.”
“Agreed.”
“Well, hopefully, by tomorrow, we’ll have everything resolved.”
9
When everyone woke up the next morning, Mike suggested that we all go to Coney Island. It was still a week before the official opening on the Memorial Day weekend, but most of the rides would be operating, and Jenny would definitely enjoy them. It was Saturday, so nobody had to work or go to school.
Two hours later, Jenny, Elizabeth, and the Big Three walked over to the F train and rode to Coney Island. Jenny looked out the window the entire ride. When we told her about the rides she could go on in Coney Island, she said that she doubted that they would be as much fun as the train ride.
We brought along some blankets and our bathing suits. Anna cautioned that the water might still be a little cool this time of year, but we all decided to take the plunge. Later, we were ready for some hotdogs at Nathan’s – and, of course, their world class French fries – and then we were up for some rides.
There was a kiddy park, which was perfect for Jenny. Then Elizabeth took her for a spin in the bumper cars. Jenny said that this was “the coolest place” she had ever been to. The rest of us agreed. We had all come here as kids, and it was still a lot of fun.
On the way home, Jenny remained glued to the window, getting glimpses of different neighborhoods. She wondered how people living in the buildings just a few feet away from the train could ever get to sleep.
“What did you say?” I asked.
After she repeated her question two more times, Jenny broke into a laugh. “Steve, did you grow up living next to this train?”
“I cupped my hands behind my ears and shrugged, while repeating, “What did you say?”
Now she was giggling. Then she had her hands cupped behind her ears and asked me the same question.
When we got home, we made a meal of some leftovers from the last two evenings. Over dinner, Anna announced that we had decided to have an art gallery on the first floor of our new building to display the work of a vast array of local artists. But we would have independent judges decide which paintings would hang. So, while anyone could rent space upstairs, only the best work would be in our shows.
“When I get older, could you show my drawings?” asked Jenny.
“Of course!” said Mike. “After all, when you become a great artist, we can boast that you got your start at our studio.”
“Thanks Mike. And I promise to try to make your nose smaller.”
We all laughed.
Then Elizabeth said that she had come to a decision. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to go to Majorca. Maybe it was time to go home.
“But mommy!” protested Jenny. “Why can’t we stay here?”
“Well, don’t you miss Daddy?”
“I miss him a lot! Why can’t he come here?”
“I’m sure he’d like to, but his has a very important job, and it would be very hard for him to take much time off.”
“Maybe I can talk to him.”
“Of course. We can call him after dinner.”
10
A few minutes after dinner, Elizabeth called Tom. She was ready to come home. Tom said he would make reservations for a flight out of La Guardia on Monday afternoon.
Later that evening, I had finally figured out what I wanted to talk about with Tom. When he picked up, I asked him if he had made reservations.
“Yes! They’ll be on a one p.m. flight out of LaGuardia.”
“Great! We can get them to the airport in plenty of time.”
There was a short pause.
“Tom, there’s something I had wanted to bring up with you. It’s pretty personal, so I could understand if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Steve, after what we’ve all just gone through, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
“Of course!” I paused here, still not sure of how I wanted to phrase what I was about to say. Tom waited.
“OK, just stop me if you feel I prying.”
“Look, at this point, I don’t have many secrets.”
“May I ask you a few questions about when you and Elizabeth got back together?”
“Of course! I mean, you were part of the equation.”
“Thanks! I’m sure that Elizabeth told you about how she thought she was pregnant before she came to California.”
“Steve, I think I see where this is going. So, I want to set you completely straight.”
“I’d really appreciate that.”
“The night she told you she thought she was pregnant? Well, after she left your place, she went home and called me.”
“I figured something like that happened, because a few weeks later I heard she had gone to California.”
“So, you knew that we had been seeing each other before she met you.”
“Yeah, she mentioned you a few times.”
“Well, the reason we broke up was that I got a job in LA and I asked her to come with me. She thought about it, but finally decided to stay in New York and finish college.”
“So, you went without her.”
“Exactly.”
“Was she angry with you?”
“Not really. More disappointed.”
“So then, you didn’t talk to each other again until she thought she was pregnant?”
“No, we talked a few times, and I kept trying to get her to change her mind. Finally, she said that it would probably be best to make a clean break.”
“Which you did, until that fatal night.”
“Yes, Steve. That fatal night changed everything.
So, she flew out to LA a couple of weeks later. She still wasn’t sure whether or not she was pregnant. I told her it didn’t matter one way or the other, and she agreed to marry me on the spot.”
“Wow!”
“Now Steve, I think I know what’s on your mind.”
“Thank you!”
“As things turned out she wasn’t pregnant. In fact, she had her period just a few days after she arrived.”
“Perfect!”
We both laughed.
“So, is that all you wanted to ask me?”
“Actually, there are a couple of other things. Do you have any idea why Elizabeth wanted to go to Majorca? Does she have friends there?
“Not that I know of.”
“Really? Well that certainly clears things up.”
Tom laughed.
“You know, the last thing I needed was having some old girlfriend turn up at my doorstep with her little girl, and then immediately wondering if she was mine.”
Tom waited.
“So, you can only imagine my relief to learn that she wasn’t.”
“Of course! I’m sure that, had I been in your position, I would have felt the same way.”
“You have a lovely daughter. You are extremely fortunate.”
“Tell me about it!”
“So, I can honestly say, that I wish she were mine.”
Tom had obviously sensed where this was going. But he didn’t say anything for a while. So, I waited.
“Steve, you obviously know how unsettling this situation has been, especially between Elizabeth and myself. When all of this finally gets straightened out, then yes, of course, if you’d like to, maybe you could maintain a relationship with Jenny.”
I let out a deep sigh of relief.
“You know, Steve, I’m sure Jenny probably already considers you her uncle. And maybe you and your friends could come to LA and stay with us. We have a sizeable hacienda with mucho rooms.”
“Sounds great! And I love the sound of Uncle Steve.”
A recovering economics professor, Steve Slavin earns a living writing math and economics books. The fourth volume of his "Small Crimes in the Big City," was published in April.
Photography by Charles Parker