Call It What You Want(29)

Her hands slide down her face. “Yeah. You’re a guy. If you got a girl pregnant, then blocked her calls, and then she called you from another phone, what would you do? Is he going to hang up on me?”

“That’s one hell of a hypothetical.”

Her eyes don’t leave mine. “So?”

“If I got a girl pregnant, I wouldn’t block her calls.”

Her eyes look wounded. “You’re not helping.”

“It’s her professor,” Maegan says softly. “And he’s married.”

Ever since I found my father in the den, it takes a lot to shock me. This is doing it. I have no idea what expression is on my face right now, but it must not be good.

Samantha slaps her hand on the table. “You said he knew!”

“He knew about the baby. I didn’t give him the whole sordid story.”

I clear my throat and straighten. “You should call.”

Samantha snaps her head around. Her eyes are hopeful, like this is what she wanted me to say. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s his kid, right? And he’s not some college freshman. He can man up and take a phone call.”

Jesus. I sound like my father. The thought makes me scowl.

Samantha doesn’t notice. “Okay. Okay.” Her breathing accelerates. “Megs. Give me your phone.”

Maegan slides out her cell phone. “You’re going to do it right here? Right now?”

“I have to or I’m going to chicken out.” She starts to dial. “I’ll go outside. Come get me when the guacamole gets here.”

“You want me to interrupt your call with David for food?”

“Shut up. It’s ringing.” She walks away from the table.

Leaving me and Maegan alone.

I have to clear my throat. I pull apart my straw wrapper just for something to do with my hands. “So. Her married professor, huh?”

“Yeah.” She hesitates, and her voice is very soft. “My parents don’t know that part.”

I consider the way her father was angry about the fact that we were playing lacrosse. This would probably be a whole new level. “I’m guessing this David won’t be able to ‘sir’ his way out of that.”

“No.”

“Is the guy, like, sixty? Because professor is making me think of someone with a white beard smoking a pipe while climbing on top of your sister.”

Maegan chokes on her soda, then laughs. She’s so serious all the time that it feels like a reward to make her laugh. I have to smile in return.

I completely forgot what this felt like, to sit in a restaurant and laugh.

The thought is sobering. God, I’m such a loser.

“No,” she says, still smiling. “But he’s in his late twenties. My parents will flip.”

“What’s your sister going to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she knows. And it’s making the house really uncomfortable.” She hesitates. “No one wants to live through the abortion debate at the dinner table. That’s why this is our second time here this week.”

Wow. She’s considering ending it, and this douchebag won’t even take her calls. Wouldn’t he want to know? I think I would.

Maegan grimaces. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is the last thing you want to think about. I didn’t mean for her to force you into coming to dinner with us.”

“You didn’t force me.” I shrug and use my straw to poke at the bottom of my water glass. “And it’s nice to fixate on something other than whether my father needs a diaper change.”

She goes still. Her face pales a shade.

Now it’s my turn to grimace. “Sorry. Overshare.”

“Do you have to … do that?”

I meant it as an offhand comment, but I wish I hadn’t said anything. I shift in the chair and keep my eyes on my glass. I don’t talk about this with anyone. Ever. “We have a nurse who comes during the day. But at night I have to help my mom.”

There is absolute silence for a moment. The restaurant isn’t crowded, but our table seems shrouded in quiet regret. If we were in the grass and Samantha slammed into me right now, I’d shatter into a million pieces.

Then Maegan places her fingers over mine. “Rob. I’m so sorry.”

My throat tightens. It’s too much, after the memories her father dragged up. I take a breath and shrug. “It’s fine. It’s life. You know.”

“I know.”

But she doesn’t let go of my hand. It’s the first time in months someone other than my mother has voluntarily touched me. Her fingers are a warm weight over my own.

I forgot what this felt like. My breathing goes shallow. I don’t deserve this, but I can’t bear to pull away.

“Hey, you guys!” a girl says brightly.

I snatch my hand away. Sniff back tears I didn’t realize sat so close. Slam the vault on all that emotion.

A girl and a guy approach the table. I don’t know them, but I’ve seen them around school. I think the girl’s name is Rachel. She’s tall, almost as tall as I am, with spiral curls. The guy is even bigger, all muscles and gut, wearing a plaid fleece and jeans. I think he plays football, but I could be wrong. His expression is unreadable.