“So Grandad says you’ve got a kid,” Shane says, like he doesn’t quite believe the information he’s been given. “How old is she?” He runs his hand through his already messy hair, making the front part stand up on end.
“Uh, she’s seven.”
The curiosity on Shane’s face refashions itself into confusion. “Wait, how old are you?”
I won’t be cowed or embarrassed, so I answer him directly. “I’m twenty-three.”
It takes less than a second for his confusion to become wry amusement. “Oops.”
Without glancing around the table, I can sense that everyone else is appalled, but I can’t think of a better way to describe getting a girl pregnant at fifteen. “Yeah,” I say on a bit of a laugh. “Oops.”
“You got a picture?” he says without missing a beat before he turns to his brother. “We’re uncles, you believe that shit?”
A huff of exasperation from Grandad and a soft giggle from Ellie combine to set the last of my nerves free as I get my phone out and pull up Rosa’s school picture from a couple months ago.
After a quick study, Shane passes the phone to Eric. “Cute kid. She’s not yours though, right?” He looks at Ellie.
My grandfather almost spills the water in his glass on its way to his mouth. “Really, Shane!”
“What? It’s a perfectly valid question.”
“It’s fine,” Ellie says. “No, she’s not my daughter. But I treat her like one.” Then to change the subject, Ellie gestures at his sweatshirt. “Is that where you go to school? The University of Colorado?”
Shane brightens. “Yeah, I’m a freshman. They,” he jerks his thumb at his brother and grandfather, “hate it that I’m there more to be on the ski team than anything else. Are you in school still?”
“No, I finally graduated last spring.”
“Oh, yeah? Where’d you go?”
“Stanford.”
He turns to me. “Wow, smart and beautiful. You scored big time.”
I can’t stop a smile, my like for this kid increasing by the minute. “I did.”
“Did you go to Stanford, too? Is that where you met?”
I half choke/half laugh. “No,” I say like that’s the most laughable thing I’ve ever heard, because it is. “I only got my GED last year.”
Eric finally adds to the conversation with a shocked, “You were allowed to drop out?”
“Allowed? No, man. I had to work.”
In comical unison both brothers’ heads tilt to the same angle as if in thought. “What do you mean, like . . .” Shane can’t seem to conceive of a reason for having to work.
“Like I had to work to live.” They continue to stare at me blankly. “As in . . . if I didn’t work, we’d starve.”
“Dude,” Shane says with a deep furrow between his brows. “Grandad said you live at home.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, realizing that the old man only gave them a rough sketch of my life and left out all the gory details. Maybe that’s why they’ve been mostly cool with this meeting. But I refuse to sugar coat anything. Better to know from the start if they’re judgmental assholes. “And there were a lot of bills to pay and mouths to feed. There still are.”
“But where were your parents?”
“Uhhh . . .” I’m almost tempted to ask if that’s a joke, but Shane – and Eric for that matter – seems sincere in his bewilderment. “Well, the one we share wasn’t anywhere and my mom isn’t always the most reliable. Not that she could have kept us afloat on her own anyway.”
“I see,” Shane says, but his creased brow remains, telling me he probably doesn’t see much. I brace myself for his next question, but it turns out to be a harmless one. “So you have brothers and sisters?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “Well, I have sisters. Three of them – all younger of course.”
“I always wanted a sister, but all I had was this guy.” Shane elbows his brother, but Eric’s expression doesn’t lighten as he asks in a very serious tone of voice, “Why do you say of course? Why is it obvious they’re younger?”
“Oh, just that my mom was pretty young when I was born.”
Shane’s sudden laugh of delight diverts everyone’s focus. “Hold up. Your mom had you when she was young. And you had your daughter when you were young. Did you learn nothing from history?”
Okay, call me crazy, but I really like him. “Apparently not,” I say glibly.
Our grandfather, seeming to grow impatient with Shane’s questions takes over the conversation, steering it into safer territory. He asks about my job, and then I ask about his company, which, if I understand correctly, is some kind of mega-conglomerate that’s made up of a million little companies.
Shane, who grows steadily more fidgety with the uninteresting topics, tries to get back in on the conversation as soon as there’s a lull. “So tell me about –”
He’s interrupted by Eric, who, in contrast to his brother, has been glowering throughout the uninteresting exchange. “Hang on for a sec. I want to know how young we’re talking.”
He’s addressing me, but I’m not sure what he’s talking about. “Pardon?”
“How young was your mom when you were born?”
“Uh, eighteen. Why?”
“Let me get this straight,” Eric says, looking from me to his grandfather and back. “My father got a teenager pregnant around the time I was born, and then abandoned her and the kid to a life of poverty?”
My brain wars with wanting to agree with the abandonment and to argue the finer points of ‘poverty’. “Nah, come on. It’s not like I went hungry.”
“Well, then,” Eric says, his tone shaded with sarcasm. “That makes it okay.”
Shane turns to his brother. “Kind of proves me right for siding with Mom in the divorce, doesn’t it?”
“Shut up, Shane. This isn’t about you.” My older brother almost appears sullen when he turns to me. “Do you know what my father,” he pauses, then amends to, “our father’s net worth was last year, Scott?”
I shrug, while trying not to frown. “No idea.”
“Three hundred and thirty five million.”
My stomach clenches at such an inconceivable number. “Hey, listen, that’s got nothing to do with me.”
“What?” Eric scoffs. “Why aren’t you pissed? I’d be fucking irate if I were you.”
“Who says I’m not pissed?” I bite back. “But I’m not pissed for myself. I’m pissed that my sperm donor ducked out on my mom.”
“Scott –” my grandfather starts, but I’m upset now.
“She never really got over it. So yeah, I am pissed. But I didn’t come here to be reminded of that, and I’m not interested in your pity or your outrage on my behalf.” I focus on Eric who’s still wearing a sulky grimace. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d wipe that stupid look off your face.”
Across from me, Shane chuffs with surprise and then starts to laugh, followed by Ellie, who tries but fails to not fall victim to the same. I look between them in exasperation, but then Eric cracks a reluctant grin and the tension really begins to dissipate.