Dr. Bhatia had offered to mediate our talk. I’d declined, and she assured me she’d be back after we had our family discussion—to just open the door and she’d know to come back. I needed blood work still, she reminded me, for reasons that included ruling out STDs that could potentially harm me and the baby, and they’d want to run some other screenings now knowing I was a walking, talking incubator but, Don’t worry about that right now.

I could worry about that after I dropped the anvil on my mother’s head.

She looked pretty good for having taken an anvil.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking down. “It was one night. Aaron was there, I was upset—”

“It’s... Christ. I’m not going to tell you it’s okay. This is life-changing stuff, Sara, but I will tell you we’ll get through it. Your grandmother is going to be such an asshole about this.”

What Mom wasn’t saying was that she herself was only thirty-four. Mom had come home two weeks after high school graduation to tell Mormor she was pregnant with me. Mormor wasn’t the type to pull punches; she’d see the parallel, like mother like daughter, and probably tell my mother it was her fault I’d done a boneheaded thing in an F-150 after a bottle of incredibly crappy wine.

...which I couldn’t let happen. My mom had given me all the talks. I’d just been reckless, played sperm roulette and lost.

“I’ll talk to her,” I said. “Tell her it was my fault.”

“It won’t matter, but that’s not... I mean, it’s important, but it’s not what’s really important. What’s important is what you want to do about it. You’re seventeen, a great student. Is it Aaron’s?”

“No!” I shouted, and she flinched like I’d whacked her. I immediately felt bad. “Sorry. God, no. It’s Jack’s—the guy.”

I’d told her about “the guy.” She’d listened to me bemoan the loss of “the guy” a few too many times over the last few months, so she knew exactly who I meant and why it was complicated. Jack was the phantom of my vagina. It was like The Phantom of the Opera only with less kidnapping.

“Aww, crapsicles.” Mom finally brushed the hair out of her face and came to stand by my side. Her arm slid over my shoulders. “I could kill you, you know.” But her words were softened by the soft kiss she pressed to my temple. She loved me, even if I was a colossal screwup.

I guess it helped that I was her colossal screwup.