Is the 'I Love You' Worth It?
Parental Unit
It's still dark when I wake up to Tre staring at me.
"Hmm," I mumble.
"Are you getting up?" he says, nudging my chin with his forehead.
"What time is it?" I say sleepily.
I can feel him shrug.
"Well, how long have you been awake?"
"Don't know. I didn't sleep very good."
"I'm sorry," I say, pulling him into my arms. I can make out a grin on his face.
"What?" I ask him.
"You are getting bigger."
"I know," I sigh.
"It's just before I left, I couldn't tell you were pregnant. Now I totally can."
"Thanks," I say kissing his nose.
"No, I mean, if I didn't know, I probably wouldn't be able to tell."
"I know," I say. "I was just teasing you."
He nods. "How many people know?"
"Well, how many have you told?" I say.
"I told Billie, but he already knew," he laughs. "Oh, and Mike. And my dad. And mom. But that's it, I think."
Reminded of my mother, I sigh.
"I think we should tell everyone. You know, announce it officially or whatever," Tre says, cuddling into my shoulder.
"Well, who else are we going to tell?"
"I don't know. But just have it out there."
"Okay," I say, shifting myself so I'm in his arms. There's a comfortable silence before I sigh.
"What?" he says
"My mom."
"What about her?" He looks at me sideways in the dark.
"She called me about a week ago, saying my dad wanted to talk to 'the father'," I say, deepening my voice on the last two words.
"The father?" he says, furrowing his brow.
"That means you, chump," I laugh.
"Mmm," he says nervously. "What does that mean? That he wants to talk to me?"
I shake my head.
"God only knows."
He shoots me a scared look and I can't help but laugh.
***
Tre's sitting on the counter, nervously swinging his legs, as I dial my parents' number.
"Hopefully they won't be home," I whisper as the phone rings. Tre nods enthusiastically.
"Hello?"
I roll my eyes, and Tre sighs heavily.
"It's Lisea," I say, trying to sound a slight bit happy to be calling.
"Yes," my mother says soul crushingly.
"Dad wanted to talk to Tre," I say. "Well, he's home now."
"Let me get your father," she says.
I cover the receiver and say, "She's getting him."
Tre sighs again and blinks nervously. I reach up and kiss him.
"It's okay. Don't freak."
He smiles and seems to relax a bit.
"Hello?" my father's gruff voice answers. He's not as bad as my mother in the nosy, controlling, power tripper sort of way, but he's just so uninterested and can't hide it. I'm sure this whole phone call exchange is being orchestrated by my mother.
"It's Lisea," I begin. "Mom said you wanted to talk to Tre when he got home."
"Tre?" he asks incredulously.
"My boyfriend... " I offer.
Silence.
"The one I'm living with... "
Still silence. Tre gives me a confused look at my in depth explanation. I shake my head
"The one who knocked me up," I say.
"Oh, yes. Your mother told me about that."
"Yeah, well, she said you wanted to talk to him."
My father sighs at his paternal responsibilities.
"Yes, fine."
"Okay," I hand Tre the phone.
"He-llo...?" he says wearily.
"Yes."
"Ummm... "
"No."
"Not technically."
"A drummer."
"I'm not sure."
"Twenty-one."
"Yes."
"Umm, my dad said-"
"Well, yeah. I guess."
Tre sighs in exasperation.
"I know."
"Uh huh."
He hands me the phone and when I put it up to my ear, my mother is on the phone.
"Lisea?"
"Yeah," I say as snottily as I can because I know it pisses her off.
"When can we expect to meet this young man?" she says, ignoring my attempt.
"I don't know. He leaves soon for tour again."
"Is he going to be home for you when...your time comes?" she says, a hint of disgust in her voice.
"My time comes...?" I ask. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Lisea, you know what I mean."
"Well, if you mean when I have the baby, then yes, he will be home."
I can practically hear her roll her eyes.
"Look," I say, "I believe I've gone over this with you many times before already. It's my life and I will live it as I choose. Just because I don't live your stupid 'traditional' life, with your perfect expectations for a perfect family, doesn't mean I'm making a bad decision. I love him, he loves me, and that's the only thing that matters. He doesn't mistreat me, he works really hard for me and the baby, and he wants to be involved. That's more than I can say about my shitty father," I bark into the phone. Tre looks at me with surprised eyes.
"There is no need for you to take that tone with me, young lady," my mother says primly.
"You know what?" I all but screech into the phone, "I don't want you to talk like THAT to me. I'm an adult, and I can make my own decisions, and I don't care if you disapprove, I don't care if Antonia disapproves, I don't care if Dad disapproves, or whatever. I'm the only one who needs to approve, so you can just stay out of me and my baby's life!"
I slam down the phone and look at Tre, who's drawn up his legs and is hugging his knees on the counter. I'm breathing so heavily from my outrage, that my chest heaves. A smile spreads across Tre's face.
"Remind me to not fuck with you," he says.
I sigh and lean on the counter.
"Well," he corrects himself. "I mean 'fuck' as in 'anger' not in-" he makes a circle out of his left hand and inserts his right forefinger repeatedly.
I pick up a steak knife from the dish drainer and he leaps off the counter and hightails it into the living room, giggling like a maniac. I can't help but laugh either.
"Hmm," I mumble.
"Are you getting up?" he says, nudging my chin with his forehead.
"What time is it?" I say sleepily.
I can feel him shrug.
"Well, how long have you been awake?"
"Don't know. I didn't sleep very good."
"I'm sorry," I say, pulling him into my arms. I can make out a grin on his face.
"What?" I ask him.
"You are getting bigger."
"I know," I sigh.
"It's just before I left, I couldn't tell you were pregnant. Now I totally can."
"Thanks," I say kissing his nose.
"No, I mean, if I didn't know, I probably wouldn't be able to tell."
"I know," I say. "I was just teasing you."
He nods. "How many people know?"
"Well, how many have you told?" I say.
"I told Billie, but he already knew," he laughs. "Oh, and Mike. And my dad. And mom. But that's it, I think."
Reminded of my mother, I sigh.
"I think we should tell everyone. You know, announce it officially or whatever," Tre says, cuddling into my shoulder.
"Well, who else are we going to tell?"
"I don't know. But just have it out there."
"Okay," I say, shifting myself so I'm in his arms. There's a comfortable silence before I sigh.
"What?" he says
"My mom."
"What about her?" He looks at me sideways in the dark.
"She called me about a week ago, saying my dad wanted to talk to 'the father'," I say, deepening my voice on the last two words.
"The father?" he says, furrowing his brow.
"That means you, chump," I laugh.
"Mmm," he says nervously. "What does that mean? That he wants to talk to me?"
I shake my head.
"God only knows."
He shoots me a scared look and I can't help but laugh.
***
Tre's sitting on the counter, nervously swinging his legs, as I dial my parents' number.
"Hopefully they won't be home," I whisper as the phone rings. Tre nods enthusiastically.
"Hello?"
I roll my eyes, and Tre sighs heavily.
"It's Lisea," I say, trying to sound a slight bit happy to be calling.
"Yes," my mother says soul crushingly.
"Dad wanted to talk to Tre," I say. "Well, he's home now."
"Let me get your father," she says.
I cover the receiver and say, "She's getting him."
Tre sighs again and blinks nervously. I reach up and kiss him.
"It's okay. Don't freak."
He smiles and seems to relax a bit.
"Hello?" my father's gruff voice answers. He's not as bad as my mother in the nosy, controlling, power tripper sort of way, but he's just so uninterested and can't hide it. I'm sure this whole phone call exchange is being orchestrated by my mother.
"It's Lisea," I begin. "Mom said you wanted to talk to Tre when he got home."
"Tre?" he asks incredulously.
"My boyfriend... " I offer.
Silence.
"The one I'm living with... "
Still silence. Tre gives me a confused look at my in depth explanation. I shake my head
"The one who knocked me up," I say.
"Oh, yes. Your mother told me about that."
"Yeah, well, she said you wanted to talk to him."
My father sighs at his paternal responsibilities.
"Yes, fine."
"Okay," I hand Tre the phone.
"He-llo...?" he says wearily.
"Yes."
"Ummm... "
"No."
"Not technically."
"A drummer."
"I'm not sure."
"Twenty-one."
"Yes."
"Umm, my dad said-"
"Well, yeah. I guess."
Tre sighs in exasperation.
"I know."
"Uh huh."
He hands me the phone and when I put it up to my ear, my mother is on the phone.
"Lisea?"
"Yeah," I say as snottily as I can because I know it pisses her off.
"When can we expect to meet this young man?" she says, ignoring my attempt.
"I don't know. He leaves soon for tour again."
"Is he going to be home for you when...your time comes?" she says, a hint of disgust in her voice.
"My time comes...?" I ask. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Lisea, you know what I mean."
"Well, if you mean when I have the baby, then yes, he will be home."
I can practically hear her roll her eyes.
"Look," I say, "I believe I've gone over this with you many times before already. It's my life and I will live it as I choose. Just because I don't live your stupid 'traditional' life, with your perfect expectations for a perfect family, doesn't mean I'm making a bad decision. I love him, he loves me, and that's the only thing that matters. He doesn't mistreat me, he works really hard for me and the baby, and he wants to be involved. That's more than I can say about my shitty father," I bark into the phone. Tre looks at me with surprised eyes.
"There is no need for you to take that tone with me, young lady," my mother says primly.
"You know what?" I all but screech into the phone, "I don't want you to talk like THAT to me. I'm an adult, and I can make my own decisions, and I don't care if you disapprove, I don't care if Antonia disapproves, I don't care if Dad disapproves, or whatever. I'm the only one who needs to approve, so you can just stay out of me and my baby's life!"
I slam down the phone and look at Tre, who's drawn up his legs and is hugging his knees on the counter. I'm breathing so heavily from my outrage, that my chest heaves. A smile spreads across Tre's face.
"Remind me to not fuck with you," he says.
I sigh and lean on the counter.
"Well," he corrects himself. "I mean 'fuck' as in 'anger' not in-" he makes a circle out of his left hand and inserts his right forefinger repeatedly.
I pick up a steak knife from the dish drainer and he leaps off the counter and hightails it into the living room, giggling like a maniac. I can't help but laugh either.