Beg Me to Stay

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

He grinned at me from his place on the doorstep, holding his arms out as if to say 'surprise'. "Your mother called me yesterday and said you had something to tell me. Is everything okay?"

Of course my mother had called him. She could never let me do things on my own or in my own manner. It always had to be done her way, or it wasn't done right at all.

I gripped the edge of the door with a sigh and stepped back, so he could come in. "Yeah, everything is fine, papí. You have time for some cupcakes, or do you have somewhere to be soon?"

He shook his head as he stood in the entryway of my home. "Nothing is more important than spending time with my baby girl." He murmured, placing a kiss to the side of my head.

I closed the door, turning the knob on the deadbolt until it clicked, and led him towards the kitchen, where I had a batch of Peanut Butter Cupcakes waiting for me on the counter. Normally, I wasn't a fan of peanut butter unless I was eating a PB&J sandwich or eating some green apple slices with the crunchy kind of peanut butter as a sort of dip. Other than that, I had nothing to do with the thick buttery substance as it was usually too much for me in way of sweetness, but lately, this baby had me craving things I never ate before. And today, I just so happened to have a hankering for peanut butter cupcakes, so I turned the oven on and made some, figuring it'd be better if I made them myself instead of buying some at the store. The sweet smell of baked goods was flowing through the air, causing my stomach to growl and a fluttery feeling similar to butterflies to happen, letting me know my baby was moving.

"Smells good, niña." He complimented, taking a seat on one of the stools at the island. "What made you decide to make them with peanut butter? I thought you hated it."

I shrugged, handing him one on a small plate. "Just wanted something sweet, I guess."

He nodded, biting into his cupcake as I did the same with mine. "Well, it tastes amazing, sweetheart."

"Thanks, daddy."

It was quiet among the two of us as we put away two cupcakes each and then, in my case, downed a medium glass of milk. It wasn't until I was putting our plates in the sink that he spoke again, insisting that I tell him whatever it is that I was supposed to tell him before the anticipation nearly killed him.

"Promise you won't freak out? That you'll remain calm and not get mad at me?"

"Nina, what is it?"

I rubbed my small, rounded belly, not even realizing I was doing it until I looked down. "I, I'm pregnant, papí."

He looked down at my hands that were moving subconsciously across my belly and then back up to my face, seeming to be at a loss for words until he stood up and pulled me into his chest. "Oh, Anita, sweetheart. I never wanted this for you."

I pulled back from him, looking up so I could see his face. "Papí, you're not mad?"

"You're twenty-four, Anita. There is no reason for me to get upset. You're an adult, and you can handle things on your own." He insisted. "The only thing I can do is be here to support you and lend a helping hand when you need it."

"Besides," He continued. "I'm sure your mother was upset enough for the both of us. Am I right?"

I nodded my head, finding comfort in his warm embrace like I did when I was younger. I loved my father, despite all the things that happened in my younger years with him and my mother. I may have blamed him for it all in my early teenage years, but now that I'm older, I realize that it wasn't necessarily his fault but the fault of my mother, who was both controlling and hard to get along with. She could never just let things go, and she got mad at the drop of a dime, but she was my mother and I loved her nonetheless, just as I loved my father.

He pulled back from me, peering down at me with those all-knowing eyes of his. "Do you know who the father is, Nina?"

"I do," I nodded. "But I can't tell you who he is just yet. He wants to wait until we can do it together."

"Alright, that's fair enough."

He pulled away and found his spot at the island once again, just as my phone decided to blare from its spot on the counter. "Speak of the devil," I murmured, seeing Mike's name flash across the screen.

"Oh, is that the lucky guy?" My dad teased, standing up from his seat once more. "I'll go so you can talk to him without your old man listening in."

"I love you, Papí,"

"Love you too, Nina," He placed a kiss to my cheek before walking out of the kitchen and to the living room, where I heard the front door open and close behind him.

I pressed the accept button as soon as I heard the front door close and placed the phone to my ear with a big grin on my face. "Hey, sorry it took so long for me to answer. My dad was over."

"It's cool. I was just calling to see what you were up to. Did you tell him about the baby?"

"Yeah, he took it pretty well, actually. I mean he told me he never wanted this for me, but he supports me in whatever I choose to do."

"So, he wasn't mad?"

"I thought he would be, but when I asked why he wasn't, he told me he figured my mom got upset enough for the both of them."

"That's probably true." Mike mumbled, followed by the familiar sound of him exhaling a layer of smoke from his mouth. A sound I had grown accustomed to over the past month and a half.

It's been almost two months since I went to Florida to tell Mike I was pregnant, and ever since then, we've become somewhat of friends. He called me every chance he got and video-chatted with me before he went onstage -- whenever he could get a good Wi-Fi connection, that is -- and he made me Skype him whenever I was at the doctors office, so he could see and hear what was going on. He also made me promise to take a picture of my progress each week, so he could see how big I was getting, which I was more than happy to do because I loved seeing the progress of my belly just as much as he did.

"Have you told your sister, yet?"

I leaned against the counter with a sigh. "Not yet." I replied, running a hand through my curly hair. "I, I'm afraid she won't take it well, and I don't want to upset her, you know."

"You mean, because her husband left her when she was pregnant with Amaya, you think she'll be upset that you're pregnant and get mad because I'm doing what her husband couldn't . . . ?"

"Something like that,"

"I don't think she will. But if she does, then that's her problem, Anita. You can't help what she went through."

"I know," I sighed. "I just feel bad. I mean, who leaves their wife just because she's pregnant? Isn't that what's supposed to happen after you get married? Aren't you supposed to start having kids?" I stopped myself from rambling, going quiet for a second before I continued talking. "I know the two of us aren't exactly doing things the normal way, but I'm glad you've been here even a little bit, Mikey. Thank you."

"We're in this together, AJ. Its my baby as much as it is yours, and I'm not going anywhere."

I smiled. "You're a great guy, Mikey."

"Even though your mom says I'm not?" I could hear the smirk in his voice, even imagine it stretching across his face to display his lip ring, and it made me roll my eyes playfully.

"You know how my mother is, Mikey. She doesn't understand anything outside of what is considered to be prim and proper. Hell, she had a fit when Joliesa got Amaya's name tattooed on her ankle! Its a wonder how my father stayed with her as long as he did."

"She's still your mom, though, and I don't want to come between that, Anita, but you're carrying my baby, and I don't want her coming between that either, ya know? Like, we're both adults here, and she needs to realize that."

"We'll deal with that when we get there, okay? For now, let's focus on the good things."

"Alright then." He laughed. "You get any weird cravings, yet?"

I began to walk out of the kitchen and down the hallway to my bedroom, all the while updating him on my eating habits. "I wouldn't call them weird necessarily, just random. Like, today I was dying for something with peanut butter in it, and normally I don't eat peanut butter. And yesterday, I wanted something sour. Then, the day before that, I wanted bacon but got sick to my stomach when I was cooking it. This baby is killing me with the cravings, Mike."

He laughed. "Just wait. My mom says she craved some outrageous things when she was pregnant with Vic and me, so its bound to happen."

I sighed, crawling into my bed and sitting Indian-style in the middle of it. "Do you still wanna wait until you get back to tell your parents about the baby?"

"I wanna tell them together, Anita. I know you told your parents already, but I want to do things differently with mine."

"Because telling someone together worked out so well the last time we tried it . . . "

"Anita." He groaned. "You know the guys didn't mean to react that way. Why do you have to keep bringing that up?"

"Because if people who are supposed to be friends with me don't know how to react to me being pregnant, then how are other people going to react? I'll be fat pretty soon, Michael, and if people are just going to treat me like an alien or something, then I just won't go anywhere or tell anyone. I'll stay to myself!"

It took barely a week before the other guys of Pierce the Veil were contacting me with apologies and playful banter, telling me they were happy for me and promising to make it all up to me when they got back. I was more than happy to forgive them, but that doesn't mean it still didn't hurt to think about. I had never been looked at in such a way; like I was the girl in gym class that no one wanted to pick to be on their team; like a stripper struggling to pay her bills; a teenager pregnant in high school. I didn't like that look, not when it was pointed at others and definitely not when it was directed at me. I worked hard for everything I got, despite everyone's belief that I got things handed to me by my well-off father and my worry-wart of a mother. I was as independent as a person could be, and no one, not even a baby, was going to change that.

"You're not going to be fat, AJ. You're just going to be more pregnant, and if people want to stare, then let them. People always stare at the prettiest girl in the room; you should be used to it."