I was able to get myself cleaned up and the tears wiped away. But it took some time. I used the fan in the bathroom and splashed water in my face. I washed my mouth out with soap, sucking down the disgusting taste as I tried to rid my body of the smell. I rinsed my mouth out and fanned the air around me. I used some air freshener to get rid of the last of the scent. I cleaned up the bathroom and flushed the toilet, but Mom was waiting for the in the hallway the second I stepped out of the bathroom.
I turned to her, hoping to the high heavens I had done enough to mask what was going on. To write it off as a stomach bug and nothing else. But the crook of her eyebrow told me she already knew.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I’m getting you some ginger ale and some bread right now, Olivia!” Bernard called out from the kitchen.
“Thanks!” I called back to him.
I held my mother’s gaze as she cocked her head off to the side and sighed.
“How far along are you?” she asked.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“I couldn’t stand the mentioning of cake, much less the smell of it, with both you and your brother. It wasn’t until my third trimester when I could even think about stomaching a bite of it.”
I sighed. “No more than four or five weeks along.”
“If you’re already that sick, you’re going to be in for a ride.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
“Here you go, Olivia. Come sit down. Let me get you a blanket,” Bernard said.
I took the ginger ale and the bread from him. He put his hands on my shoulders and guided me into the living room. His touch was so light, and his eyes were so understanding. And in an instant, I saw him in a different light. He wasn’t distant or writing me off. He wasn’t yelling at me or upset or disappointed in any way. He was treating me as if I was his own daughter. Helping me sit down and fluffing a blanket over my legs and handing me a cool washcloth he brandished from somewhere I didn’t see.
Tears crested my eyes as I took it from him. “Thanks, Bernard.”
“Do you need anything else?” he asked.
He looked me straight into my eyes and massaged my shoulder with one hand. His eyes were full of such kindness and understanding and absolutely no judgment.
“Why couldn’t my father be like you?” I whispered.
He pressed his lips to my forehead as my mother came and sat down next to me.
“Do you know who the father is?” Bernard asked as he pulled away.
“I do, yes. Brett and I have kind of…”
I saw my mother nod before she took my hand.
“I wondered if the two of you had been seeing each other. I knew he couldn’t have possibly been working you such long hours,” she said.
“It’s just been kind of a casual thing. At least, it started out that way. I think,” I said.
“Have you told him?” Bernard asked.
“No. Not yet, anyway,” I said.
“You’re going to have to, and sooner rather than later. The conversation isn’t going to be easy, but he has a right to know,” my mother said.
“How in the world do I even start a conversation like that, though? Hey there, Brett. Just to let you know, I’m pregnant?” I asked.
“Maybe not in so few words.” Bernard grinned as he crouched down in front of me.
His hands migrated to my knees, massaging them slowly, trying to comfort me as tears slid down my cheeks.
Like a father should have done with his own daughter.
“You just have to do it. Tell him the two of you need to talk, then say it. There’s no way to deliver the message any easier. And it’s going to throw his world for a loop. A child changes everything,” my mother said.
“But we’re here for you. That’s the important part,” Bernard said.
I smiled at him, genuinely smiled at him for the first time since he started dating my mother a couple of years ago.
“I really appreciate that. More than you know,” I said to him.
“I know we’ve had our rough patches. But I want to help in any way I can,” he said.
I leaned forward and kissed his cheek before more tears worked their way out of my eyes.
“The sooner, the better,” my mother said.
I felt her squeeze my hand, pulling my gaze over to her. I leaned my head on her shoulder while Bernard sat down in front of me. He put my feet in his lap, trying to make me as comfortable as possible, doing all of the things a father should do for his daughter.
Doing all of the things Daniel should have been there to do for me.