“Not just your social life,” Samantha continued, “your whole life. Have you thought about how this is going to change everything?”
“Of course I have,” I said.
“No more vacations,” said Samantha.
“Oh, come on… people take babies on vacations!”
“Are you going to have money for that? I mean, I’m assuming you’ll work…”
“Yeah. Part-time. That’s what I’d figured. At least at first.”
So your income will go down, and you’ll still be spending money on child care for when you are at work. That’s going to have a major impact on your standard of living, Cannie. Major impact.”
Well, it was true. No more three-day weekends in Miami just because USAir had a cheap flight and I felt like I needed some sun. No more weeks in Killington in a rented condo, where I’d ski all day and Bruce, a nonskiier, would smoke dope in the Jacuzzi and wait for my return. No more $200 pairs of leather boots that I absolutely had to have, no more $100 dinners, no more $80 afternoons at the spa where I’d pay some nineteen-year-old to scrub my feet and tweeze my eyebrows.
“Well, people’s lives change,” I said. “Things happen that you don’t plan for. People get sick… or lose their jobs…”
“But those are things they don’t have any control over,” Samantha pointed out. “Whereas this is a situation you can control.”
“I’ve made up my mind,” I said quietly. Samantha was undeterred.
“Think about bringing a child into the world with no father,” she said.
“I know,” I told her, holding up my hand before she could say anything else. “I’ve thought about this. I know it’s not ideal. It’s not what I’d want, if I could choose”
“But you can choose,” said Samantha. “Think about everything you’re going to have to manage by yourself. How every single responsibility is going to be on your shoulders. Are you really ready for that? And is it fair to have a baby if you’re not?”
“But think of all the other women who do it!”
“What, like welfare mothers? Teenage girls?”
“Sure! Them! There’s lots of women who have babies, and the babies’ fathers aren’t around, and they’re managing.”
“Cannie,” said Samantha, “that’s no kind of life. Living hand-to- mouth…”
“I’ve got some money,” I said, sounding sullen even to my own ears.
Samantha took a sip of coffee. “Is this about Bruce? About holding on to Bruce?”
I looked down at my clasped hands, at the wadded-up napkin between them. “No,” I said. “I mean, I guess it involves that… somewhat by default… but it’s not like I set out to get pregnant so I could get my hooks back in him.”
Samantha raised her eyebrows. “Not even subconsciously?”
I shuddered. “God, I hope my subconscious isn’t as unenlightened as that!”
“Enlightenment has nothing to do with it. Maybe, deep down, some part of you was hoping… or is hoping… that once Bruce finds out, he’ll come back to you.”
“I’m not going to tell him,” I said.
“How can you not tell him?” she demanded.
“Why should I?” I shot back. “He’s moved on, he’s found somebody else, he doesn’t want to be involved with me, or my life, so why should I tell him? I don’t need his money, and I don’t want whatever scraps of attention he’d feel obligated to throw me”
“But what about the baby? Doesn’t the baby deserve to have a father in its life?”
“Come on, Samantha. This is Bruce we’re talking about. Big, dopey Bruce? Bruce with the ponytail and the ‘Legalize It’ bumper sticker…”
“He’s a good guy, Cannie. He’d probably be a really good father.”
I bit my lip. This part hurt to admit or even to think about, but it was probably the truth. Bruce had been a camp counselor for years. Kids loved him, ponytail or not, dopiness or not, dope or not. Every time I’d seen him with his cousins or his former campers they were always vying with each other to sit next to him at dinner, or play basketball with him, or have him help them with their homework. Even when our relationship was at its worst, I never doubted that he’d be a wonderful father.
Samantha was shaking her head. “I don’t know, Cannie. I just don’t know.” She gave me a long, sober look. “He’s going to find out, you know.”
“How? We don’t know any of the same people anymore… he lives so far away…”
“Oh, he’ll find out. I’ve seen enough soap operas to guarantee you that. You’ll run into him somewhere… he’ll hear something about you… he’ll find out. He will.”
I shrugged, trying to look brave. “So he finds out I’m pregnant. It doesn’t mean I have to tell him that it’s his. Let him think I was sleeping around on him.” Even though I felt struck through with grief at the thought that Bruce would ever have cause to think that. “Let him think I went to a sperm bank. The point is, he doesn’t have to know.” I looked at Samantha. “And you don’t have to tell him.”
“Cannie, don’t you think he’s got a right to know? He’s going to be a father”
“No, he’s not”
“Well, there’s going to be a child born that’s his. What if he wants to be a father? What if he sues you for custody?”
“Okay, I saw that Sally Jessy, too”
“I’m serious,” said Samantha. “He could do that, you know.”
“Oh, please.” I shrugged, trying to look less worried than I was. “Bruce can barely keep track of his rolling papers. What would he want with a baby?”
Samantha shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Or maybe he’d think that a child needs… you know… a male role model.”
“So I’ll let it hang around Tanya,” I joked. Samantha wasn’t laughing. She looked so upset I felt like offering her a hug, until I realized I’d sound just like Tanya at her most Anonymous. “It’s going to be okay,” I said, keeping my voice light, and convincing.
Samantha looked at me. “I hope so,” she said quietly. “I really do.”
“You’re what?” asked Betsy, my editor. To her credit, she recovered a lot faster than Samantha did.
“Pregnant,” I repeated. I was getting a little tired of playing this particular cut on the soundtrack of my life. “With child. Knocked up. Bun in the oven…”
“Oh. Okay. Oh, my. Um” Betsy peered at me from behind her thick glasses. “Congratulations?” she offered tentatively.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Is there, um, going to be a wedding?” she asked.
“Not in the forseeable future, no,” I said briskly. “Will that be a problem?”
“Oh, no, no! Of course not! I mean, of course, the paper would never
