The bathroom is as clean as my first impression could make out from the hall. It smells lemony fresh, and there is a stack of available towels on shelves in the corner. There are even dispensers on the wall for shampoo and body wash, just like in upscale hotels. This is a far cry from the simple home I share with my mom. Another prickle of resentment passes through me. My father was willing to give these strangers luxuries that I've never had the chance to experience.
There is a lock on the back of the door, but even so, I make quick work of bathing. I have no idea how many other bathrooms there are in the place, and I don't want to be in here when someone else needs to use the facilities.
I bought simple nightwear with me: a blue tank top and some three-quarter-length pajama bottoms. For the first time, I notice that my breasts have gotten a little bigger, and my nipples are a darker shade of rose. My body is changing, even at this early stage of pregnancy and noticing makes me feel even more out of control.
I fold the clothes that are clean enough to wear again and find a bag in my suitcase for laundry. When I'm done with everything, I feel thirsty. It's time to take my pregnancy vitamins, and I don't have a glass for water.
Descending the stairs to the kitchen makes me feel like a criminal tiptoeing through someone else's home. I can hear voices somewhere in the house, and my heart starts beating faster. It was just about okay meeting everyone when Walter was here. I feel comfortable enough with Harley, but the rest of them, not so much. Hopefully, they'll be in the den and I can rush in and out of the kitchen fast enough to avoid anyone. As I near the back of the house, I realize that my hopes were futile. The den is empty, and voices are coming from the kitchen. The door is ajar enough for me to catch the conversation, and I pause, thinking that I should wait for a good moment to interrupt.
"She's pregnant?" a voice says.
"But she's only eighteen, isn't she?"
I lean in, realizing that they're talking about me. It's not really a surprise, considering I'm new news, but it feels weird to hear my story filtering through the group so quickly.
"Nineteen," someone corrects. "Not that one year makes much of a difference."
"Wow. What about the baby's father?"
"I don't know." I think it's Harley speaking now in his smooth low voice. "She said it was a long story."
"Well, that doesn't sound good."
"It doesn't. If she were my girl and six weeks pregnant, I wouldn't be happy letting her drive for hours to stay in a house with eleven strange men."
"To be fair, she didn't know we existed until today. Walter told me he was going to fill her in on everything in detail when she arrived."
"That must have been a shock."
"Did you see her face when she walked into the den?"
"She looked like a deer in headlights." There's a rumble of laughter.
"You can't blame her for that. I mean, look at us. We're not exactly a bunch of average-looking guys."
"You mean size-wise?"
"Yeah."
"He means looks-wise. I mean, how many girls get to share a home with eleven guys who look this good?"
"Always with the big head, Daryl."
"If you don't love yourself, who's gonna love you, bro."
"I love you, man."
There's another rumble of laughter, and I smile at the affection in their conversation. I never had a sibling to spend time with, and it is something that I always wanted. To have a brother or sister to share laughs with and to confide in when things aren't going as planned. How amazing would it be to have someone around my own age who is on my side right now? Someone who wouldn't judge me for my mistakes.
"The pregnancy complicates things," a different voice says.
"We promised, Dad. We have to stay true to that."
"I know. Of course. I'm not suggesting anything different. It's just… well, it's not as straightforward with a baby in the picture."
"It's more straightforward for me. No child deserves to go through what we went through. No father or mother to love and protect them. This baby deserves everything that we didn't have before Dad."
"So, we tell her to stay."
"That was always the plan. It's what Dad wanted."
"He wanted us to take care of her. To be her protectors."
"Like brothers."
Wow, was that really what my dad wanted? He must have trusted these boys to ask that of them. It still feels strange to hear that he even thought of me at all. I'm feeling quite overwhelmed that they'd consider wanting me to stay, with a baby on the way. It won't exactly be a party environment with a child screaming in the night and dirty-diaper smell perfuming the air. I lean in to hear more, the idea of interrupting now way back in my mind.