What Lovers Do(9)

I feel an inch tall, not even. “Jimmy’s not exactly gone.”

“Not exactly gone?”

“Um …” I fiddle with my napkin. “I had it all planned out. But on the very day I was going to break up with him, he lost his job.”

Jules pinches the bridge of her nose. “And let me guess, you didn’t break up with him.”

“He was really distraught. He had this mini breakdown. All upset about his mom having to go into assisted living. He went on and on about his terrible father who left them years ago. Then he started getting down on himself for never finishing college. And I couldn’t. I thought it might be best to let him get into a better mental state. Find a new job. Find a place of his own. After all, like I told everyone, I didn’t offer to let him live with me because we were dating; it was because he had to sell his house … well, his mom’s house. And he needed a temporary place to stay.”

“He’s still living with you, and you haven’t broken up with him? How did I not know this?”

Maintaining a permanent cringe, I shake my head. “It’s … I’ve just … I don’t talk about it because it’s disgraceful. So I finally got the nerve to break up with him, stand my ground, and he rejected my ‘proposal’ to break up. His ridiculous word, of course. He blamed my upcoming period, which isn’t upcoming at all. Then he went on and on about some thirty-day shit. And now his mom has him believing that we just need to work it out. He won’t leave. He’s in denial. I gave him a week. I told him I’m calling the cops if he’s not out. Then he made me feel like I’m kicking him out onto the street.”

“Has he found a job?”

I shake my head. “He says he’s looking. He’s said that for the past two months. Come to find out, it’s not that he can’t find a job; he just can’t find one that pays better than unemployment.”

“Oh my fucking freeloader. How, Sophie? How did you let this happen again?”

“I don’t know!” I brush nonexistent crumbs off the table. “Why does being nice have to make me such a doormat? Why can’t I find a good guy? One of the things I loved about Jimmy was his devotion to taking care of his mom. And I thought, That’s the guy I need. Someday when I’m old and frail, I want to have a devoted husband. In sickness and in health.”

“Sophie …” Her head eases side to side.

This is what I’ve been trying to avoid: that look of disappointment. I stare at my margarita, so desperately wanting a sip, a buzz, anything to wash away the Jimmy fiasco.

“Maybe you should consult an attorney.”

“We’re not married. That’s ridiculous. It’s my house.”

“Jacob, my neighbor, owns rental properties, and he’s constantly complaining about it. Evicting someone isn’t always easy. It would seem that someone who does not have their name on a piece of property or any sort of lease should not have any claim to staying there, but I bet Jimmy would find someone to make a case for him.”

“No.” I shake my head over and over. “Jimmy can’t afford an attorney. No one will be making a case for him.”

“What if his mom pays for an attorney?”

“Pfft … that’s ridiculous. She has no money either.”

Jules brings her drink close to her lips and pauses. “What about his aunt?”

“She lives in Tennessee. And I feel like getting him shipped off to Tennessee is a long shot. It’s just … ridiculous and sad. And his aunt probably wouldn’t let him live with her anyway. And what does that say about Jimmy?”

“Or you? For dating him?”

I completely deflate. “I know! I’ve been trying to figure out what drew me to him in the first place. This is really embarrassing. And to add more misery to my already tumultuous situation, there’s a sexy pet shop guy that’s been flirting with me. And I’m pretty sure he’s interested—”

“NO!” Jules nearly silences the restaurant.

My cheeks turn red as Mother Jules scolds me with one word.

She lowers her voice again. “You need to get your life figured out before you so much as smile at another man. Do you understand me?”

I nod, hiding behind my glass of water.

Jules holds up her glass. “To better choices.”

Our glasses clink.

“What’s wrong with your margarita?” Jules asks, eyeing the half-empty water glass in my hand.

“Oh … uh … nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Not bullshit.” I can’t look her in the eye.

“Oh my god! You’re pregnant!”

I shake my head. “Shh … no. I mean. Gah! It’s not what you think.”

“If you’re pregnant, then it’s what I think, Sophie.”

Rubbing my eyes behind my glasses, I grumble. “I’m not supposed to tell you or anyone for that matter. So if I tell you, you can’t say a word.”

I feel like I need to tell her. It will give the urgency of my Jimmy situation much better perspective.

“Oh my god … you are pregnant.”

“Yes, but—”

“Does Jimmy know? This changes things, Sophie. You’re evicting your child’s father. Sophie!”