Nellie and the Scare

"You have potentially knocked up my daughter," Dad said. "Do you honestly think that blithe attitude is appropriate?"

"'Potentially' being the keyword here, Mr. Belanger," J.P. said. "I was stopping by to bring a test to Nellie so she could find out for sure."

"Well, how responsible of you," Dad replied. "At least one of the two of you has some sort of brain in your head. Maybe there's hope for the little bastard."

My face went red. "Dad, stop it."

"Stop it?" he repeated, turning his attention back on me. "Stop what, exactly, Eleanor? Enough is enough. You have been belligerently hostile towards me for ages. Between the tattoos and the attitude at events... I've had enough. You mock me openly, publicly, and still I pay for your goddamn school. You insisted on going to that school for some unbecoming career because you want to be a crime scene fanatic. As if that isn't enough to explain to people, you're now possibly having a child before even graduating. I sincerely hoped you wouldn't take after your mother so strongly, but—"

"How dare you?"

That wasn't J.P.'s interruption. I didn't say it, either, and Anne-Marie's hand was pressed to her lips as she stared at my father and his worsening tirade. It took me a moment, but as Dad realized who spoke and turned to her, my eyes moved to Kimberlee. Her eyes were full of a fire I'd never seen, and her hands were clenched into fists.

"Excuse me?" Dad said.

"I said how dare you, Max," she repeated. I expected her voice to shake or waver, but it was as fierce as her gaze was. "I've had enough. You do not speak to Nellie like that. You should never speak to anyone like that, but she is your daughter!"

Dad's face twisted angrily. "You do not get to tell me how to—"

"Yes, I do," she said plainly. "I absolutely do. Nellie puts up with far more horrible treatment from you than she should, and you should be nothing but proud of her. She is incredibly smart, highly accomplished, and breathtakingly strong. She is a wonderful young lady and the more I see of her, the less I see of you in her."

"How dare—"

"No," she insisted. "No. I have listened to enough from you. You do not speak to your children like that. If you treat Nellie that way, I can only imagine how you will treat ours."

"That's what I was asking about," Anne-Marie piped in quietly.

My mouth dropped open. "What?"

Dad turned back to me, his mouth curling into a sharp sneer.

"That is why I wanted you to attend Thanksgiving this year. We wanted to let you know that Kimberlee and I are having a child together." He turned back to her. "Though, I'm starting to question that decision."

"Good," Kimberlee shot back. "You should, because so am I."

I had never really seen my dad look shocked. I barely had time to appreciate the misery and confusion on his face as Kimberlee stood firm, her shoulders held back and her chin square as she stared him down.

"You're having a baby?" I repeated. "How?"

"You're old enough to know how that works," Dad snapped. "At least I'm in the position to care for a child, unlike you. You're not even out of college. How are you supposed to raise a child on your own?"

"She's not alone," J.P. said.

"No? How do you even know it's yours, Jean-Paul?" Dad hissed. "I wouldn't put it past her to not even know whose it is. Are you the only man she's fucking?"

J.P. wasn't smiling anymore. No one was. Anne-Marie's mouth was open, Kimberlee looked furious, and I couldn't even begin to think of some kind of response. J.P. looked across the kitchen, meeting my eye, and I had no idea what he was thinking. For a long moment, I thought he was about to agree with my dad, to shrug and turn on his heel and walk out. Instead, he jerked his head towards the stairs.

"Grab your stuff, Nell," he said. "You should get out of here. You can stay with me."

"She absolutely will not," Dad said.

"It's absolutely not your decision to make," J.P. replied.

"You do not get to come into my house and tell my daughter to—"

"It's a good idea," Kimberlee said. "I think I'll do the same."

Some people explode when they're angry. My dad wasn't like that. He blew up sometimes, certainly, but when he was angry—really, truly, furiously angry—he imploded. The room went quiet as every bit of tension and energy seemed to draw itself to him, and his face twisted as he looked at Kimberlee. None of us were certain what was about to happen, but J.P. tensed and stepped forward just enough to make it clear that he had no problem protecting Kimberlee, too.

My dad wasn't like that, though. Instead, he laughed. It started quietly, just a chuckle, then grew.

"Fine," he said. "Leave."

He then took his advice, turned on his heel, and left the kitchen. I assumed he was going to his study. For a long, quiet moment, all of us stared at the spot he left, like it was a black hole that couldn't help but absorb our gaze.

"Babe," J.P. finally said. "Go get your stuff."

"Babe?" repeated Anne-Marie, her amused tone completely out-of-place in the tense room.

Part of me prickled, ready to snap at J.P. that he didn't get to tell me what to do, that I didn't need him to protect me, and for the love of God, to stop fucking calling me babe. The rest of me mocked that little part, telling it that I didn't always have to be cynical, I didn't always have to be angry, and that I could accept J.P.'s offer to get me out of that house immediately.

"I'll just be a sec," I said quietly, sliding out of my chair and starting towards the stairs. Kimberlee followed, waiting until we were out of the kitchen and away from the Marchands before stopping me.

"Nellie, are you—"

"Why did you defend me?" I asked. "And why... I mean, you're having a baby with him."

"Because he's wrong," she said simply. "And the baby... well. I'm having a baby with or without him. That will be Max's choice to make."

"You'd leave him?"

She nodded. "He can either change his attitude or lose out on yet another child. I know you don't see it, Nellie, but he regrets how much of your life he missed. He just doesn't... he has no comprehension of how to be a father."

"Clearly," I muttered.

She took my arm as we walked up the stairs. "It will be okay. I would rather be a single mom than have him think he can continue acting like this. I love your father, but I don't love him enough to treat myself with such disdain. Not anymore."

"I can't imagine why you'd love him in the first place."

"He does have his good points," she said. "You don't see them, and I don't blame you. But they're there."

I snorted and she squeezed my hand.

"He is about to lose his daughter, his girlfriend, and his future child if he doesn't make some big changes," she said. "If that is not enough, then nothing ever will be."

Apologizing didn't come naturally to me. There were few things I hated as much as admitting I was wrong. I'd already apologized once that day, to Anne-Marie, though it wasn't really an apology; I'd mostly said it so she would shut up. To apologize twice in one day was almost foreign to me.

But if there was anyone I owed an apology to, it was Kimberlee.

"I'm sorry," I said to her. "I haven't always been the nicest to you."

"You haven't," she replied, though the corners of her mouth ticked upwards. "And that's okay. I understand. Now, go get your things."

"Where are you going to go?" I asked. "Do you need, I dunno, a ride or a place to stay or...?"

There was just the tiniest hint of arrogance on her face as she smiled. "No, but thank you. The Porsche is mine and I'll go stay with my parents for a few days. I may not make quite as much money as your father, but I do have a career, you know."

I didn't know. Everything I thought I'd known about Kimberlee was crashing down around me.

"If you leave him," I asked. "Can you... can I meet the baby still?"

She hugged me. "Of course. It'll still be your sibling. And if you, um... well, if you are—"

"I'll let you know," I whispered.

"For what it's worth, you and J.P. are lovely together," she said.

I groaned. "Not you, too."

"Oh, it's one of those situations," she said, then held back a chuckle that turned to a snort, that became a trembling giggle. "Well then, just... go get it, girl. He's hot, I don't blame you."

I laughed so hard I had to brace myself against the wall. Once I caught my breath enough to wipe the leaking tears from my eyes, Kimberlee hugged me again, promised it would be okay, and walked down the hallway to the bedroom she shared with my father.

My things didn't take long to collect, and she must not have packed very much, because she was back down the stairs before I was. When I went back down, J.P. was waiting in the foyer, Anne-Marie had already left, and Kimberlee was just plucking her car keys from Pierre's fingers before striding confidently to the garage.

"Ready?" J.P. asked after she left.

I nodded, said goodbye to Pierre, and walked past J.P. out of my father's house for what I almost hoped was the last time.

J.P. and I drove separately to his apartment so I didn't have to come back for my car the next day. I had no idea if I'd even be welcomed back; knowing my dad, there was a chance he'd have it towed off his driveway out of spite. On the drive over, I focused only on following J.P.'s car, refusing to think, refusing to process the fact that after 22 years, I was going to be a big sister. I absolutely refused to even entertain the idea that the little sibling Kimberlee was pregnant with might be an aunt or uncle before they could even sit up properly.

I parked in the visitor parking once we got to J.P.'s building, waiting by my car for him to park his own. He jogged over to me once he was done.

"You okay?" he finally asked.

"Just peachy," I replied. "I have a Schrödinger's baby situation going on here. I'm going to be a big sister for the first time in my life. I may or may not be disowned by one or both of my parents, and worst of all, I'm stuck staying with you. Shit's going great, J.P. It's just fucking great."

The bastard laughed and reached for my bag, slinging an arm around my shoulder as he took it from me. "Well, at least your sense of humour wasn't damaged in the hailstorm of drama I just got caught up in."

"Yes, because it must be so difficult for you to be witness to my family's drama."

"Finally, someone acknowledges it," he muttered playfully.

I half-laughed but didn't respond.

His arm tightened around my shoulders as we walked. "Are you actually okay?"

"Of course not."

He didn't say anything, just kept his arm around me and his pace steady as we walked to the building.

"Weren't you supposed to have dinner with your parents?" I finally asked as he held the door to let me in.

"Don't worry," he replied. "Anne-Marie will tell them what happened in excruciating, slightly embellished detail. Once my mom finishes hyperventilating, I expect she'll call to inform me she's too young to be a grandmother."

"Oh."

He grinned at me and pushed the button for the elevator. "That will be her only concern."

I brought a hand to my mouth theatrically and gasped dramatically. "They won't be hideously embarrassed and ashamed that you dare to have sex?"

"I think they've given up on being ashamed of me and have resigned themselves to hoping whatever embarrassing thing I do is at least funny."

I was surprised when I laughed; J.P. simply smiled. An easy silence fell between us until we made it to his apartment. He unlocked the door, holding it for me as I entered.

"Okay. Let's get this over with," I said as the door closed behind him.

"What?"

"The test, J.P."

He stared at me for a moment, his expression almost blank. I sighed heavily and held my hand out.

"Stop playing games. Just give me the test so I can stop freaking out."

The blank expression started to change, his eyes sparkling as the corners of his lips twitched.

"Does your dad have a gardener?" J.P. finally said.

"A... what?" I asked. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"A gardener. Like, for his plants outside."

"I don't... maybe? Pierre might do it but... seriously, what the fuck? Just give me the—"

"It's in the planter by the front door."

My mouth dropped open. J.P. was fighting not to laugh, but failing miserably. A muscle in his throat spasmed and his chin trembled.

"You put it... in the planter?" I repeated. "At my dad's?"

"Mm-hmm. And then I was a little distracted when we were leaving so I, uh... left it there."

"In the planter."

"Yep."

"At my father's house. Someone is going to discover a pregnancy test... in the flowers near his front door."

"I think it's a shrub, actually." J.P.'s voice cracked.

That was it for me. The moment his voice broke, I started giggling, then he snorted, and before I knew it, I was laughing so hard I could barely hold myself up.

"I'm sorry," he managed to choke through laughs. "I'll go get another one, or I guess I can go back and—"

"No way," I gasped. "Leave it there. If I ever go back, I'll see if anyone's found it."

"I can't believe I forgot to... jeez." He shook his head, wiping tears of laughter from his cheeks.

"Look on the bright side," I said. "At least it wasn't used."

There was a brief pause in the laughter where J.P. looked at me, I looked at him, and then we dissolved into laughter all over again.

We probably should have been a lot more stressed, considering the circumstances. But I couldn't stop laughing, which made him laugh more, which made me laugh more. With anyone else in the world, it would have felt wrong. With anyone else, I might have been trying not to cry, or scream, or throttle him for being stupid and forgetting the test in a flower pot, of all places.

With J.P., I felt like it was going to be okay.

"I'll go get another one," he said after we calmed down. "And some food. You like pad thai?"

"Yeah," I said. "Food would be good."

"It's gonna be okay, you know."

"I would hope so. If you bring back shitty pad thai, I'll have to seriously question your taste in restaurants."

He laughed again. "I meant the other thing."

I nodded. "I know."

He touched my shoulder softly, something else clearly itching to be said, but he decided against it. I thought he was going to leave, but instead of grabbing his keys, he picked up my bag.

"Now, I know when I stayed at your place you were gonna make me sleep on the couch, but I'm a far better host than you are, and I simply insist you take the guest room," he said.

"You have a guest room?" I looked around the apartment which, while nice, seemed small.

"Yeah. It just happens to be the same as my bedroom."

I rolled my eyes as he laughed at his own joke and followed him through the apartment to the bedroom. It was pretty clean, especially considering he lived alone. My apartment was always a bit of a mess, even when I tried to keep it clean, but J.P. seemed to be fastidiously tidy. The fact that he'd had no idea I would be coming to stay with him made it even more impressive.

"I don't know much about knocked-up chicks, but if you need to rest your weary feet or something, feel free to lie down while I go out and fetch your dinner," he teased, gesturing to the neatly made bed.

"Fuck you," I muttered.

"I mean, if you want to, but I thought you'd want to do the test thing first."

I waited out the time by snooping, which had the dual purpose of also distracting me from what I was about to find out. I didn't go digging for any hidden secrets or anything, just looked around his living room and checked out the things he had lying around. There wasn't much: a few papers, a brochure about a law firm in Gatineau, some photos and takeout menus on the fridge. On his coffee table was a stack of different books, which brought my attention to the surprisingly-well-stocked bookshelf in his living room. When he returned half an hour later, I was sitting on his couch and flipping through a well-worn Sherlock Holmes anthology.

The smell of pad thai permeated the apartment almost as soon as he entered. I put the book down and got up as J.P. brought the takeout to the kitchen table, then held out a white plastic bag with a box in it.

I took the bag and went to the bathroom, too nervous to speak. I could hear J.P. in the kitchen, the sound of plates being removed from the cupboard slightly louder than strictly necessary as he tried to give me privacy in the small apartment. My hands shook as I ripped the cardboard box open and pulled the test out. I skimmed the instructions, followed them as fast I could, then replaced the plastic cap on the tip of the test and set it on the counter. I washed my hands, checked the time on my phone, and left the bathroom.

He looked at me inquisitively as I did. "Well?"

"Have to wait a few minutes," I muttered, my cheeks turning red. "Just didn't want to wait alone."

Normally, J.P. would make fun of me for saying something like that. Instead, he just smiled and started dishing out the pad thai.

"So, funny story," he said. "I went to the same pharmacy for the test and it was the same guy working. He goes into this spiel about how if the first test was negative, there's still a chance that it could be positive but that doing a second test on the same day wasn't the best way and that we should wait until tomorrow because it'd probably still show as negative. And I get it, he's just trying to do his job, but he was kind of loud, right?"

"Let me guess," I said. "You embarrassed the poor guy."

"Nah," he replied. "I just played dumb and asked if the second girl was less likely to be pregnant if the first girl was, and he just kind of froze."

I rolled my eyes but laughed. He finished putting food on the plates and then came to where I was standing.

"Think it's ready?" he asked.

I nodded but didn't move, staring at the bathroom door. All that was in there was a piece of plastic with an answer on it. It wasn't a shark, or a lion, or a man with a gun, or my dad. It was just a pregnancy test. It was just a piece of plastic.

It was also the scariest thing I'd had to face in my entire life.

"Babe? Are you going to check it?" J.P. asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Although, maybe you could, um, go look at it first."

He smirked, wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and kissed the side of my head before going into the bathroom. I stared and waited for what felt like hours until he came back out.

"Well?" I asked.

"I looked at it," he said.

I waited for him to continue, then rolled my eyes.

"What did it say, J.P.?"

"Oh, you wanted me to tell you?"

Every muscle in my body tensed. "Yeah, I'd like to know."

"Hmm. Well, I'm just not sure you do, babe, I mean, you did send me in to check instead of going yourself," he teased.

"Just tell me."

"What do I get out of telling you?" he asked.

"You get me only telling you that you're an asshole once instead of believing it for the rest of my life."

"Hmm. You drive a hard bargain. I just don't know that you'll keep up your end of it, you know?"

"Cut it out, J.P." My voice wavered and I fought to keep control of it. "Is it positive or negative?"

"Well, I'm pretty positive that you're being a little negative right now, so—"

"Oh, fuck you," I spat, and lunged forward so I could push past him into the bathroom.

J.P. started laughing and caught me by the waist. "Babe, I'm joking."

"You're such a f-fucking asshole," I said.

Whether it was the stammer or the fact that he was close enough to see that there were tears in my eyes, he seemed to realize he'd gone too far.

"Nell, I was just messing with you," he said softly.

"You thought this was the best time to do that?" The words shook as I said them, cracking and crinkling as I tried not to cry, instead struggling in his arms and trying to get to the bathroom.