The Leftover Club (27 page)

Dylan’s glass was empty in a flash.

“Despite what I think of Dylan’s career or his lifestyle, that is the one smart decision he has made,” Augustus pronounced as he placed his glass back onto the table.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It would be perfect nonsense to bring a child into his world. So unpredictable and chaotic, with no firm roots established anywhere. But he’s always played that very, very smart. Otherwise I’d have ten grandkids to support instead of just one son.”

Dylan stared daggers at his father. “You don’t support me, Dad.”

“No, I just fund your emergencies. Fortunately for both of us, that hasn’t included children.”

It offended me that the Great Dr. Fenn was completely dismissing the value of the mother.
Like she was just some brood mare along for the ride. “I’m sure if Dylan had ever desired children, he would have picked a good mate to help him raise them.”

Augustus guffawed. “Please. You’ve known him all these years and you can say that? Did you not meet the last one? What was her name again?”

Begrudgingly Dylan answered. “Thammee.”

“With two E’s,” Augustus chuckled. “And an H. Don’t forget the H. Like this is a good mother for my grandchildren. She’d probably end up naming one of them using the entire alphabet.”

“Seems to me that Bonnie would love her grandchildren, alternative spelling and all,” I snapped.

Augustus met my combative stare. “Have I offended you, Miss Lawless?”

“Quite,” I shot back. “You sit there like lord of the manor, bestowing your judgment as if you earned any right to do so. The fact of the matter, I watched Bonnie raise Dylan single-handedly. The only thing you ever provided was a last name and a monthly check. Oh, and grand gifts to buy his forgiveness when you couldn’t be bothered to show up once and awhile, to show your only child that you actually give a damn. I see that every single day with my own daughter and her pious father preaches the same pretentious bullshit. Meanwhile I’m the one up to my ears in dirty laundr
y, unfinished homework and carpool, while juggling my own career in the process. I think Dylan would make an outstanding father. He’s already got a pretty bitching prototype of what not to do.”

Augustus glared at me over the glass, while other patrons around us politely tried to ignore my raised voice. “Perhaps if you would have worked a bit more on your manners, my dear, you would have kept a spouse and eased your own burden.”

“Fuck you, Dad,” Dylan snapped, but I held up my hand.

“I guess that is the difference between you and me, Dr. Fenn. I don’t see my child as my burden.” I glanced at both Ashley and Dylan.
“If you’ll excuse me.”

I scooted my chair back and stalked from the restaurant with my head held high.

I was back in my robe and brushing out my wet hair by the time Dylan joined me in our cabin a half-hour later. He wore a crooked grin as he took me into his arms. “Man, when you find your balls, you really find your balls, don’t you?”

“Ovaries, thank you,” I corrected as I wrapped my arms around him. “So I take it I’ve fallen out of favor with the Great Dr. Fenn?”

“Quite,” he affirmed. “Needless to say, we won’t invite him to the wedding.”

My breath caught. “There’s going to be a wedding?”

He grinned. “It’s only a few hours to Vegas.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Dylan…,” I started but he chuckled.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I was joking.”

For a split-second, I was disappointed. I covered it with a grin of my own. “For your information, I’m not wearing any panties, Mr. Fenn.”

“Oh, really?” he said with an arch of his eyebrow. He swept me into his arms and carried me toward the bedroom.

December 12, 1986

Normally the day we let out for Christmas vacation was one of the happiest of the year. We hardly did any work in between all the holiday parties hosted in classroom after classroom. And just about every kid on the planet was
jonesing for Christmas morning.

Perhaps that was why I was so perplexed at the pall that had fallen over the house, with the Moms talking in hushed whispers and Dylan not talking at all. But a meeting of the Leftover Club quickly shed light into the troubling new circumstances.

“Rumor has it that Lisa Fontaine is PG,” Charlie confided as we all leaned into the circle. A collective gasp followed.

Lisa Fontaine was one of Dylan’s recent conquests, most notably at the sophomore Halloween party where they had seemingly been glued at the lips. Whether or not they were sleeping together wasn’t really the question, as Lisa had a bit of a reputation. We Leftovers penciled her into the “Did It” list the minute we heard they were dating.

“You don’t think…,” Olive began, but none of us were willing to say what we were thinking. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t good.

With Dylan’s track record, it was a freaking miracle he had made it to sixteen without an
oopsie.

“Doesn’t he use protection?” Bryan asked me.

“Why ask me?” I squeaked. “Like I know.”

“Come on. You live in the same house. Surely you hear things.”

“I know as much about his little necessities as he knows about mine,” I answered.

“Can you find out?” Olive asked and I was quick to shake my head.

“That’s Dylan’s personal business. I’m not going to bring it up.”

“You don’t have to bring it up,” Bryan said. “Just give him the opportunity to bring it up to you.”

It was unthinkable. “What difference does it make?”

“Gotta admit.
His stock would plummet if he went from “
Just a Gigolo
” to “
Papa Don’t Preach
.””

“Oh my God,” Charlie gasped. “Do you think they’ll get
married
?”

“Come on, you guys. It’s all a rumor. And wasn’t Lisa supposedly pregnant last year?”

“Who says she wasn’t?” Bryan quipped. “Easy enough to fix that problem.”

“Well, I’m not asking. So speculate away.”

Which, I’m sure, was exactly what the Leftovers did after we disbanded that afternoon.

I know the rumor stayed on my mind all the way home. It was still early afternoon when I finally let myself in the front door, so it was quiet. The Moms were still at work. They didn’t get Christmas vacation like we did. I decided to use the solitude to clean up a bit. Maybe that would cheer up everyone.

Our living room was already decorated for the holiday, something we all did on Thanksgiving night. There were even presents under the tree. I knew the biggest ones came from Dylan’s dad. They were always modern and impressive, which seemed to placate Dylan.

I could sense, though, what he really wanted could never come out of a box – no matter how big.

I was vacuuming by the time he got home a half-hour after I did. This was unusual, given his social obligations and his extracurricular activities. What was even more unusual were his slumped shoulders and his downcast eyes. For once in our lives together, I could tell that Dylan was deeply ashamed.

I silenced the vacuum as he shut the door. “Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey,” he replied in a soft, almost broken voice.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded and slunk away to his bedroom. I was content to let him go for the first five minutes, but after that it began to eat at me. He was clearly going through something major, and with the rumor about Lisa, I was worried that he might be in really deep shit this time. Finally I went to his bedroom door. I could hear his stereo blast from the other side, so loudly that he didn’t hear the first few times I knocked. Finally he pulled the door open. His room was filled with smoke, which I could tell immediately was marijuana. “The Moms are going to kill you,” I said.

“They’ll have to stand in line,” he muttered as he threw himself back on his bed and fired up another joint.

I walked over to the bed and perched on the edge. “What’s going on, Dylan?”

“Why ask me?” he asked before he held in a huge, long drag. “You probably heard the rumors.”

“Is it true?” I asked softly.

He shrugged.
“Won’t know until the blood test. Apparently I’m one of three contestants in this particular game show.”

“Three?” I echoed. I couldn’t even turn one boy’s head. I couldn’t imagine sleeping with three within the span of days it takes to ovulate. “Did you use protection?”

“Of course,” he snapped. He was immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, Roni. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I get it.”

He sighed and snuffed out the joint. “It’s my own damned fault. Every time you fire a load, you take your chances. Or so they tell me, anyway.” He rubbed his eyes with both hands. “I should have stuck to masturbation.”

I laughed and he peered at me through his fingers. “Sorry,” I said.

He sat up. “No, you’re right to laugh. You know who else will laugh? Dear ol’ Dad. Just one more disappointment for him to hold against me.”

“Compared to how many you have to hold against him?” I shot back.

“Ah, but you don’t understand. He’s earned the right to make his mistakes. He’s got college degrees. He’s got a job. He’s got a house, a car and a boat. So if he makes a mistake, it’s just an aberration. If I make a mistake, it’s just par for the course.”

“How can you say that, Dylan? You’re an honors
student, you’re the quarterback of the football team. You’re treasurer for student council. Is there anything you can’t do?”

He looked at me for a long moment before looking away.
“Yeah. Get the respect of my father.”

“Fuck him,” I snapped, which forced Dylan to look back at me. “Who the hell is he to judge anyone anyway? I’ve known you, what? Ten years? I’ve never even met the man. He hasn’t bothered to come back west to see you. He just sends you elaborate gifts while he lets Bonnie field everything else. It’s bullshit, Dylan.
Pure bullshit.”

He chuckled. “I think you’re more pissed about it than me.”

“Of course I am,” I said softly as I touched his arm. “You’re my friend.”

Another long pause before he scooted off of the bed. “Well, friend, I don’t suppose you happen to have a few hundred dollars
laying around, do you? Because that’s what it’s going to cost to get rid of this little problem, and I certainly don’t want to ask him for it.”

My stomach sank. This was the reality of it. He had to face his father’s disapproval because his mother didn’t have the extra money to spend.

“I mean, I guess I could pawn my stereo or sell my car. Something. Anything but him.”

I stood as well. “We’ll figure something out,” I promised. “Your dad never has to know. If anything, I can ask Bryan.”

His eyes narrowed. “Bryan?”

“Sure. His parents are loaded. He could get a loan. You could pay him back. You’re not alone. I promise.”

He studied my face before he finally nodded. “Thanks, Roni.”

I mirrored the nod and headed for the door. I stopped when I reached it. “Why didn’t you come to me?” I asked. It wasn’t that I expected him to, or even that he had made a habit of it in the past. But clearly it was something he wanted to share, because he opened up the minute I ask. So why not confide in me first?

His shoulders slumped further. “I guess I just didn’t want you to think I was an asshole.”

I offered him a smile. “I’d never think that.”

He smiled at last. “Thanks, Roni.”

The days that followed were tense. I didn’t tell Bryan about what was going on, figuring I’d spare him the dirty details until we were absolutely certain. Nature let everyone off the hook by Christmas Eve, when Lisa spontaneously miscarried. That near-miss haunted Dylan for months. He slowly started dating again, but wasn’
t quite as predatory as he was before. Instead he dated older girls who didn’t have quite the same reputation. He also bought stock and barrel in every over-the-counter contraceptive that was available.

And I never heard of any near-
oopsies that followed.

It was one mistake that Dylan Fenn was determined not to make.

January 4
,
2008

I sat on the toilet in my pajamas, staring at the stick in my hand. I had nearly convinced myself the plus-sign I was seeing was a mirage, but it was darkening by the minute. I was experiencing a strange deja vous, and in the moment, I couldn’t rightly say if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

It was just… a surprising thing.

Granted, Dylan and I stopped using condoms purposefully, with full knowledge that something like this could happen. But not only had I stayed on the pill, but I was thirty-freaking-eight years old. I always pictured my eggs hobbling down the fallopian tubes using walking canes. I couldn’t imagine that there was fire still in the furnace.

Shouldn’t I be readying myself for menopause?

The more math I did in my head, the more depressed I got. When this child graduated high school, I’d be fifty-six, solidly on the downhill slope to the big 6-0. Meghan would be thirty-four, likely with a family of her own.

In fact, she’d graduate high school before this new one ever went to preschool.

What the fuck had I been thinking?

And yet, Dylan had wanted this. This child had been conceived in love, with a father who wanted to have a baby with me, or so he said.

Or did he?

Wait… did
he?

I rewound the events in Big Bear over and over in my head. He knew he was taking a chance to be a father, but it was a fairly remote gamble at best. Had he simply said all those things so that he could skip the condom and have reckless sex because his father had pissed him off?

Was it a final act of rebellion?

Dylan hadn’t mentioned babies or pregnancy from the moment we got back into L.A. He turned his attention toward the new film, which he wanted to make a huge success so he could ram that down his father’s throat. I saw less and less of him, despite the holidays, because he was preparing for his role. He worked hard at his craft, he always did. We ran lines together, and in those lines he was a devoted father, but when he was in bed with me, it was the same old Dylan he always had been.

He loved to fuck and he was good at it, and I was cast as his current bed warmer.

Aside from giving me a music box on Christmas day, with his old class ring tucked inside, he had made no mention of the future regarding us. He’d even spent a few more nights at home as he packed for the upcoming extended stay in Louisiana.

Had he changed his mind? Had he thought wiser of it in the cold light of day?

As I held that little plastic stick in my hand, I knew I did.

This was madness. Complete and utter madness. I wasn’t even married this time around. I wished myself good luck trying to explain it to anyone. The Moms would be ecstatic I’m sure, especially Bonnie who could claim being a grandma at last.

But how in the hell was I going to explain this to Meghan?

I had to ease into this gently with everyone, starting with Dylan.

I prepared a home-cooked meal for him that evening, eggplant parmesan, his favorite. I tossed a salad and purchased a bottle of wine for him. I figured he’d need it.

I was just taking the garlic rolls out of the oven when he walked into the kitchen with a bouquet of flowers. “God, it smells good in here,” he said as he grabbed me for a kiss. “And the food smells delicious, too.”

I laughed as he nuzzled my neck. “You’re prouder of yourself than usual today. Good day?”

“Great day,” he corrected as he pulled a vase from the hutch in my dining room. “I spent the whole day at the VA, talking to vets, getting inside their head for the part. They were an incredible group of men and women. But this one guy? His life is this movie. Single dad, the whole bit. We talked for hours. I honestly didn’t want to leave. It was like sitting in a room with Jesse Benoit,” he concluded, naming his upcoming part.

“Awesome,” I smiled as I brought the food to the table.
“Sounds very productive.”

“How about you?”

It was the perfect opening, but I wasn’t ready. He was in such a good mood, he was practically dancing in his skin. “It was peaceful. Meghan’s not due back till Sunday. Gives me the weekend to prepare.”

He chuckled. “Kids are chaos, that’s for sure.”

The way he said it made my stomach shrink. “Worth it though,” I added.

He nodded as he rounded the table to face me. “I have to say, I’m going to miss our alone-time.” He captured my lips for another kiss as he lifted me up into his arms. “Guess we’re going to have to make it count.”

He carried me to the living room and we toppled onto the couch together. He was tugging off clothes before I could protest. “Dinner will get cold,” I said.

“That’s why God invented microwaves,” he murmured as he nibbled the delicate space on my neck just under my ear. I melted underneath him. I finally gave in and started to undress him as we kissed. He bared my breast and captured it between his teeth. I winced.

“Are you okay?” he asked, taken aback by my response. Usually I loved it when he did things like that.

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

He made up for it by bathing the nipple with his tongue, making me forget all about the pain. He tugged at my jeans until they were a rumpled pile on the floor, then dove in between my thighs to work his magic on me with his tongue. He knew how to make me scream and wasn’t satisfied until I did, bucking against his face as I came hard. After turned me into a puddle of goo, he finally climbed my body and sank inside of me with a grunt. “God, yes,” he sighed as he stroked himself inside of me. “I have a confession to make,” he whispered against my lips. “I don’t know how I’m going to live without you for the next few months.”

I wrapped myself around him. “Me either.”

“So come with me,” he whispered.

“I can’t. I have Meghan.”

His eyes fluttered closed as he made love to me. “Then tell me anything to make me stay here,” he begged softly.

My heart lurched. It was the perfect time to tell him. He was practically waving me in like some
guy on a runway. Our eyes locked. My breath held. The words echoed loudly in my head, but I couldn’t quite make them exit my mouth. Instead, it came out as a question. “I want a baby?”

His body fell still as he studied my face. “Are you serious?”

I nodded. Then shook my head. “I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking, you know? What we talked about in the cabin.”

He chuckled.
“Oh, Roni. I think we can both admit we were a little emotional that day.”

My hope was starting to flat-line. “Are you saying you changed your mind?”

He started to stroke again. “I’ll never change my mind when it comes to wanting you,” he promised with a kiss. “I love the way you feel all around me. You’re my home and my family. My past and my present.”

“Your future?”
I asked.

His brow furrowed and he pulled out. “Where is this coming from, babe? Aren’t you happy with the way we are?”

“Of course,” I said immediately. “I love you.”

“And you want a baby,” he said.

Too late now, pal
. “Maybe. I don’t know. Didn’t you?”

He sighed as he caressed my face. “A baby with you would be the most perfect thing in the world,” he said. But he pulled away. “Too perfect to fuck up, and I think we both know I would.”

I was on my feet following him to my bathroom, where his robe hung. “I told you I think you’d make an amazing father.”

He washed his face in the sink before he turned to face me. “That’s because you always saw the best in me. Why do you think I fell in love with you?”

He turned away, as if he had said too much.

“We really should eat before it gets cold,” he mumbled as he headed for the dining room. I glanced in the mirror at my naked reflection.
I cradled my tummy as I fought back the tears.

Despite my years as a Leftover and seeing this paradigm play out over and over again, I had made the classic Fenn-deflecting mistake of expecting more.

I slipped into my robe and headed out to the dining room, where Dylan ate silently.

“I’m sorry, Dylan.”

“For what?” he shrugged. “It’s barely lukewarm.”

“Not about the fucking eggplant,” I snapped as I slid into a chair. “I know you don’t make promises. I’m sorry if I expected them of you.”

He placed his fork on the table and looked at me. “You’re right to expect promises, Roni. You’re an amazing woman and you deserve to get whatever it is that makes you happy. And if you want another child, you deserve to be with a man who can provide for the both of you so that you don’t have to struggle so much, like our moms did.”

“That doesn’t matter to me,” I argued but he shook his head.

“It matters to me, Roni. God, can’t you see that? If I had a kid I couldn’t support… if I proved that bastard right once and for all what a fuckup I am. If I had to ask him for help,” he trailed off, slamming his fist on the table. “That’s not what I want for you.”

He escaped the table to retrieve his clothes from the front room. I chased him down just as he was stepping inside his jeans. “Maybe this time apart will do us some good after all. Then you can figure out what you want.”

I couldn’t stop the tears no matter how hard I tried. “I want you, Dylan. I always have.”

He choked back a tear or two of his own. “No. You want more.
I’m not a ‘more’ kind of guy. You know that. You were the only one that did.”

He was right. I did. And I had forgotten
, chasing after some stupid happily ever after Dylan wasn’t capable of providing. “So this is it? You’re just breaking up with me?”

He gulped hard as he looked at me. “How can I break up with you when we were never together?”

He grabbed the rest of his clothes and slammed out of the condo. I wilted to the floor with sobs I was finally able to shed. I jumped for the phone when it rang, thinking it might be Dylan. But it was Bryan, probably letting me know he had finally gotten back from England.

And of course he was. But he could sense something was wrong from my “hello.”
“My God, babe. Are you okay?”

The dam burst and I confessed every sordid detail in one long incoherent torrent of emotion. He could barely understand me. Within an hour he was on my doorstep and immediately took me in his arms. “Oh my God, honey,” he crooned as he stroked my hair. “What the hell happened?”

I leaned on him as he led me to the couch. Memories of my aborted lovemaking only made me cry harder. I was reduced to hiccupping sobs as I recanted the tale, starting with our trip to Big Bear. Then I dropped the big one. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh,
Roni,” he said as he pulled me close. “What are you going to do?”

I reached for the tissue on the coffee table. “I don’t know. It’s lunacy to consider having it, right? I mean, my God. I’m almost forty.”

He rubbed my back. “Look. Take my advice. Don’t make any permanent decisions based on the emotions of a moment. You have some time to work this out. And you’re not alone, okay? You’ve got me. You’ve got Meghan. You’ve got your mom and your stepdad. No matter what you choose, you have people to support you.”

I blew my nose. “I notice you didn’t mention Dylan. You think he’s gone for good, don’t you?”

He sighed. “History isn’t on your side, babe.”

It only made me burst into fresh tears. He pulled me close and held me.
We didn’t even hear the door open or Dylan walk into the room and stood in front of us with a thunderous expression.

“What’s going on?” he wanted to know.

Bryan pulled away, and I realized I was still in my robe. It had to look bad, considering he thought Bry and I had been so close in the past. “It’s not what it looks like,” I mumbled, but I darted away from Bry like I was guilty as sin.

“I’ve heard that before,” Dylan snapped. “I’m usually the one saying it, though. And I’m usually lying.”

I tugged him by the arm, to lead him into the bedroom. “Let’s talk privately.”

“No, actually this is fitting. I told you to find someone who could give you more, and just like the good little girl you are, you did. Congratulations.”

His anger was lost on me, not after he devastated me the way he did. “We weren’t together, remember?”

He nodded.
“Too right.” He glanced at Bryan. “Congratulations, Bry. Be sure to tell me when it’s time to start passing around cigars.” He spun on his heel and slammed out the door.

Bryan was silent as I sobbed softly into my hands. Finally he stood and walked over to me. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

“He wants to go,” I said. “Let him go.”

“
Roni,” Bryan started, but I wrenched from his hands and raced to my bedroom.