JACKSON
When the recital is over and it's time to leave the performance hall, April unwinds our hands and gets to her feet. "Coming?" she asks.
"Yep," I say, waiting as people pass through the aisle. I stand behind her, one hand on the dip of her waist, and she allows it. Even though we're not on the best terms, that doesn't mean I don't want to touch her. She didn't want it last night, but apparently, she's not against it now. There are a lot of people going by, so as she waits, she leans subtly back against my chest and I drop a kiss to her hair.
I walk into the lobby with a hand on the small of her back, waiting for Athena to surface. I hear her voice among the throngs of people, shouting in that familiar, tinny soprano. "Daddy! April! Daddy! April!" she choruses.
"Hey, prodigy!" I say, plastering a smile on my face. She bounds into my arms and I swing her around, letting her legs fly. "You sounded amazing. You played your songs so beautifully."
"Not my songs," she says, then points to April. "April's! She's the one who taught me them. I wanted to play those ones for my first recital, not ones I learned at this school. Just 'cause they're special."
"You're so sweet," April says, and Athena reaches over to be held by her instead of me. April takes my little girl on her hip so she can give her a big hug and kiss, always so natural. "You had such a big stage presence up there. You commanded the whole room. Every single pair of eyes was on you. And they didn't look away the whole time."
"I didn't even make one single, tiny mistake," Athena says, speaking close to April's face with wide eyes. "Did you notice?"
"Of course I noticed," April says, grinning. "I didn't think you would mess up. But you know, it would be okay if you did."
"Yeah, but I won't," Athena says, wrapping her arms around April's neck for a hug. "I love, love, love you!" she squelches, squeezing tight.
"Let her breathe," I say lightly, one hand on Athena's back. "You're choking her, baby."
She pulls away and holds April's cheeks in both hands, looking at her with worry in her eyes. "Can you breathe now?" she asks.
"I can," April laughs. "And I love you. Your daddy loves you, too."
"I sure do," I say, planting a kiss to the side of her head. "We're so proud of you, Thena."
"I'm proud of me, too!" Athena says, chest puffing out.
I can't help but smile as the joy radiates off of her in waves. A mixture of both the piano and April's presence has put her in such a different place than where she used to be. Looking at her, I know Myla would be proud of the child she is and the personality she's finding her way into. I've never seen this side - the silly, gleeful, boisterous side. The only Athena I ever knew was withdrawn, sullen and quick-tempered. I didn't know the core of who my daughter was for the longest time. A flicker of guilt lights in my stomach, but I tell myself that at least the unearthing happened when it did. It could have taken much longer or never happened at all.
"How about we go out for dinner?" April suggests. "To celebrate?"
"Yeah!" Athena cheers, arms in the air. "Out to dinner, out to dinner! Can we go to Homeslice? Please, please, please?"
"Pizza sounds good," April agrees, then looks to me. "What does Dad think?"
Dinner out isn't what I had in mind, admittedly. I'm mentally exhausted from mine and April's fight and what we still have left to settle. Nothing has been resolved yet. We didn't go to sleep having reached an armistice. I know she knows that, too, but she must be trying to look past it for Athena's sake. "Sure," I say, trying not to sound as disillusioned as I feel. Athena deserves my whole heart put into making sure she has a good night. She had a wonderful performance and deserves as much. It would be wrong to deprive her of a celebration simply because I'm not feeling up for it. "Let's go."
On a Sunday night, the hip restaurant is slower than normal, which I'm grateful for. It's in the college neighborhood of Lincoln Park, and on any other night it would be loud and full of young people. Not tonight, though. Tonight, we're one of few guests and the ambience is nice. "I'm getting a Shirley Temple," Athena says, leading the way inside as she greets the hosts. "One table for three people, please!"
We're seated at a booth, and April and Athena sit on one side with me on the other. "You're gonna leave me all alone over here?" I say, pretending to be sad.
"Daddy…" Athena says, clinging to April's arm. "This is the girls' only side."
"Yeah, daddy," April chimes in, weaving an arm around Athena's shoulders. "You aren't allowed over here."
I chuckle and shake my head then look at the menu, deciding with Athena what we should order. Usually, April would be decently talkative, but tonight she doesn't have much to say. Noticing the change, Athena takes it upon herself to control the conversation. "Everyone else was talking in the dressing room before the recital started," she says, putting her crayons in a line. "But not me. I didn't get in trouble like everyone else. They got yelled at by Miss Leah, everyone except for me."
"Lucky you," April says, not looking up from the menu.
"Why're you still reading?" Athena asks, peering around into her face. "We already chose our pizza. I'm gonna say it to the waiter."
"Just browsing," April says.
"You wanna get a beer?" I ask, catching her attention. "I usually like what they have on tap."
"No, thanks," April says, meeting my eyes for half a second before closing her menu.
"You sure?" I ask. "I can get the waiter back."
"No, I'm okay" she says. "Really. Thanks, though."
"Alright," I say. "I think I'll order one, though."
We get our drinks - Athena successfully scoring her Shirley Temple, me with my draft, and April gets only water. "April," Athena says, eyebrows pushed together. "We're having a celebration for me. Why did you get only water? That's so boring and not fun."
April takes a sip for emphasis. "It's all that sounded good to me tonight," she says. "My tummy's been acting funky."
"Are you sick?" She shakes her head no. "Then maybe you're just hungry. That's probably it. You need to eat some pizza!"
"Maybe," April says weakly, but I can tell something is off. She doesn't sense me watching her - or if she does, she doesn't acknowledge it.
Athena keeps talking as we wait for our pizza to arrive and doesn't stop once it does. I'm not sure if I've ever heard her talk this much in one sitting, but it's nice to hear the rise and fall of her voice. It's comfortable conversation that propels itself; she barely needs any involvement from me or April, completely entertained by the flow of her own thoughts. I'm half listening, half wondering what's going on with April. She told me in vague terms what happened at the meeting earlier, but I'm stuck on the thought that it must have gone differently than planned. That's the only reason I can think of as to why she's acting so abnormally. "Hey," I say, looking at her during a pause in Athena's monologues. "You alright?"
"Daddy, she was just hungry," Athena insists. "Leave her alone. Nobody likes your thousand questions."
I flick my eyes to my daughter, then back to April - hoping they convey the same question but silently. She nods just enough to see, and I sigh and return to my pizza. I don't believe her, not at all, but I can only assume that what's on her mind is what's on mine - our fight. We'll talk at home.
April barely touches her food. She eyes it frequently, watching Athena now and again, but most of the time she just stares into space. I can't stop thinking about what's going on in her head, and by the time we're finished eating I've convinced myself that she said yes to the record label and is moving next week. My stomach toils with the thought of losing her, though just last night I'd been rallying for her to take the offer. I want her to take it; I hope she did. But even so, the thought of her absence is enough to knock me off-center as I'll have to prepare for another hole in mine and Athena's life.
"Um," April says, speaking up for the first time in at least twenty minutes. Athena is sitting back against the booth, slouched over as she looks through pictures on April's phone. "I have something I wanna say," she continues, holding onto the straps of her purse as it sits on the table.
"Alright," I say warily.
"Are you making an announcement?" Athena asks, eyes still on the screen. She laughs a little then turns it around to showcase a snapshot of Steph with a Snapchat filter. "I like this," she says. "I wanna do Snapchat. Daddy, can I have a Snapchat?"
"No," I say.
"Dad…" she whines. "It's not even a game. You just take pictures."
"You're interrupting," I say, looking towards April. "April wants to say something."
Athena looks back at the phone and April sits up straighter, seemingly bracing herself. "So, there's something I need to tell you both," she begins, and I take a deep, cleansing breath and prepare for what I'm about to hear. She has to move. She's leaving soon and she doesn't know how long it'll be until she sees us again. I cringe as she worries the inside of her cheek, wishing she would spit it out and get it over with. "It's a surprise that I want to tell you about."
"Okay..." I say, urging her along with wide eyes. "We're ready."
If I'm not mistaken, her chin trembles as she presses her lips together. She swipes a bit of hair out of her face as her shoulders rise and fall, then lifts something from her purse - but I have no clue what. Then, she opens her mouth, looks up with shimmering eyes and says, "I'm pregnant."
My whole body goes cold and I'm sure the blood must drain from my face and turn it pale. My tongue is suddenly four times bigger and much too dry - I can't form a single thought, let alone a sentence. Pregnant. She's pregnant. She didn't accept the record deal; she's pregnant.
"What?" Athena says, looking up from the phone with narrowed eyes.
April attempts a smile, but her mouth doesn't even come close. "I'm pregnant," she says, voice wavering like it might break at any second. "I'm gonna have a baby."
I open and close my mouth like some sort of stupid fish, unable to come up with anything to say. I feel decimated, ambushed, and caught off guard. I have too many questions to know where to begin in asking. One thing I know for sure is that she couldn't have picked a worse time or a worse place to break the news. She's given me no time to process this with Athena sitting here, in a public setting, no less. It almost feels like she planned it this way, which makes me seethe. "Y-you're…" I stammer.
She slides the object in her hand across the table. Now, I see it's a Clearblue pregnancy test - one of the more accurate brands. "Pregnant," she says.
"Wait, no," Athena says, shoving the phone away while propping herself up to see the test. She picks it up off the table, clearly unaware of what substance has touched the far end and brings it close to her face. "You're lying. You don't have a baby in your tummy, you're skinny." She shakes her head, malice in her eyes. "This stupid stick doesn't say anything. This doesn't mean you have a baby in you."
"No, Thena," April says gently. "It does. See the little word 'pregnant' right there?" She tries to point, but Athena yanks the test away to look for herself. "That means… well, it means I'm pregnant," she finishes.
"No, it doesn't," Athena says angrily. "You're lying!"
"Thena, calm down," I say, trying to add something of worth. I feel the emotion between the three of us begin to rise, and we don't need that here. I don't want to make a scene.
"I can't calm down!" she says, voice rising. "Because this is not even fair! This is my day; this is my piano recital day. We said it a thousand times. It was all about me, just like my birthday. And now, it's not. Now it's about April and you and a dumb, stupid baby that doesn't exist."
"Athena," I warn, wishing I could come up with a better way to scold her. My mind is blank and numb, though. Absolutely nothing occurs inside it. I don't know where to go from here, no clue what the next step is. I'm at a loss; a huge one.
"No!" she shrieks, face turning red. "You lied. You said nothing would change and now everything is. Everything is gonna change and it's all your fault. You ruined everything. Everything was just starting to be good and now it's bad. Because of you!"
She points at April and she visibly recoils, one tear slipping down her cheek. That incites an instinctive response in me, one that makes me stand up and cap a hand over my daughter's shoulder. "That is enough," I growl, taking her hand. "We're leaving."
"Are you the baby's dad?" Athena asks, looking into my eyes with a burning expression. "Is that who its daddy is? You?"
"Yes," I say.
She rips her arm out of my grip and cradles it close to her chest, glowering while flashing a look that could kill. "I hate it," she says. "I hate the baby and I hate you. Now, my piano recital doesn't even matter. You don't even care or wanna talk about it. You weren't even listening the entire time. All you care about is the stupid, dumb baby! I'm running away when we get home."
"You're not running away," I say tiredly, grabbing her hand again. "We're leaving. Right now."
"I'm not going with you," she says. "Kidnapper! Kidnapper!"
I hear April trying to stifle her tears behind us, apologizing to the waitress while leaving her a tip that's hopefully huge. "That is enough, Athena," I say, squatting to her level. She's crying, her cheeks wet with tears. "We're getting in the car. Right now."
"You didn't even smile," she says, teeth gritted. "You didn't even smile and that means you aren't happy about the baby, either. You didn't even kiss April or hug her! You don't want it just like I don't."
"Hey," I say sternly. "No. We are done talking about this."
"I'll make the baby leave," she says. "I'm gonna make the baby go away. Then we can be really done talking about it forever."
"Athena," I say. "One more word and I'm taking away your piano for three months. Do you hear me?"
She closes her mouth and doesn't open it again, crossing her arms while lifting them to rest under her chin. With a hand between her shoulder blades, I guide her to the car, and she buckles herself in as I get behind the wheel, April next to me. It's deadly silent after everyone is inside, which is rare in itself, and it stays that way the whole way home.
When we get there, Athena bursts inside and stomps up the stairs, slamming her door with more force than I knew she was capable of. The whole house seems to shake from the impact, and I close my eyes after, rubbing my temples. I turn around to see April taking off her shoes, still crying, and I walk over to help her. She lets me, which I hadn't expected, but walks away towards the kitchen after. "Hey," I call after her. "We should probably talk."
"I know," she sniffles.
I follow her without much of a choice. I find her leaning over the sink, arms straight, back trembling with sobs. "April," I say, approaching her. "Take a breath. You're getting all worked up."
"Yeah, I know!" she squeaks, wiping her nose. "You think that's how I expected it to go?" I sigh, long and drawn-out without giving her an answer. Knowing Athena, I'm not sure how she saw it going any differently. "I turned down the label's offer," she says, shoulders deflating.
I guess my predictions from earlier have been debunked. She won't be going anywhere or leaving us for months at a time. In that respect, our life won't change. "Oh," I say dumbly. I take a second to think about my response before curtailing it with, "Because of the baby?" She shrugs one shoulder and tips her head to the side, a somewhat-affirmative gesture. "You knew?" I ask, eyebrows furrowing.
"Not for sure," she replies. "I had an inkling. I didn't know for sure. But it's what I want; I'm happy with the choice I made."
"Well, you went in knowing you'd make it," I say tersely.
"You can't be mad at me," she says. "You already knew what I was gonna tell him."
"What did you tell him?" I ask. "How could you have possibly made sense of turning down an offer like that?"
She turns to face me with red-rimmed eyes. "I told him the truth," she says, spit clinging to her lips. She really can't pull herself together, but I don't have the urge to hold her and make everything better. We're at a point where we need to hash things out, not place a bandage over a problem that's much too big for a patch.
"You told him you're pregnant?" I ask, filling in the blank that she won't. She nods and fire boils in my gut. "So, you told some random stranger before you told me?"
"I just found out, Jackson," she says. "This morning. You weren't ready to hear it - you still aren't. It was the only thing that would get him off my back. He wasn't gonna listen to anything else and I knew that. What was I supposed to do, tell you before Athena's recital so she could hate me even more?"
"She doesn't hate you," I grumble.
"I'm sorry for telling him before I told you," she says. "It felt necessary. I was stuck. There wasn't another way out."
"I get it," I say. "But I don't know why you wouldn't tell me - just me - right away. Did you not think it through, April? Did you not think what a difficult place you put us in by telling me and Athena together? Why would you do that?"
"I don't know," she says, shaking her head. "I knew you'd be upset about not knowing as soon as I did, so I just wanted to get it off my chest."
"But with her there?" I sputter. "It felt like a trap. We should've talked about it before telling her."
"A trap for what?" she spits. "I'm not trapping you into anything. You're already here. We both are."
"That's not what I mean," I say. "You know what I'm trying to say. I couldn't give you an honest reaction with Athena there."
"Yeah, well she gave me all the honesty I needed," April says, face growing even more blotchy. "She said it herself; I ruined everything."
"She's 8," I say. "She doesn't mean it."
"I don't know," she says, then looks at me with hard eyes. "Are you even happy?" she asks. "Athena said it herself - you aren't, are you?"
"I'm…" I say, but I can't see a clear path to finish the sentence. Of course, I pictured having children with April. Maybe multiple. But bringing them into the world so soon wasn't part of the plan. I thought we were going to take things slow; she had insisted as much just days ago. None of this makes sense and I can't wrap my head around it.
"You aren't," she says, backing away. "You really aren't."
"Stop putting words in my mouth," I say.
"You don't want the baby," she says. "Just say it."
"I'm not gonna say that, because it isn't true," I say. "Damn it, April, can you just let me think? Everything is happening at once. It wasn't supposed to happen this soon. I can't… I can't process it this fast. You have to give me time."
"You need time," she says. "Why are you making it sound like it's all my fault?"
"I'm not," I say, rubbing my temples.
"Well, that's what it sounds like," she refutes. "And it's not just my fault. You kept saying we'd be fine without a condom doing it once or twice. Well, we weren't."
"I never said that," I say.
"Well, I sure didn't say it!" she argues.
"There were times where we got caught up and-"
"You couldn't wait, so we didn't use protection and we made a baby," she says, starting to cry again through her anger. She points to her belly with both pointer fingers. "There's a baby in here, half you and half me. It's not just my fault and it's not just yours. We did this, and there's nothing we can do to change it. I'm not aborting it. But if you want me to leave-"
"April, just stop… stop talking," I say. "I can't think. No one's telling you to go anywhere or abort any baby. Please, just give me a goddamn second." She stands across from me, chest heaving with one hand to her heart, eyes swollen. "It's just not the right time," I say. "The timing is bad."
"Obviously, it's bad," she says. "But what were you just saying about timing never being right?"
"That was different," I say. "That was a life choice. This-"
"Isn't a choice," she says.
"Why didn't you come to me?" I ask. "You took the test this morning, didn't you? When you came out of Athena's bathroom? You didn't want to use ours because you knew I'd see you. Why were you sneaking around?"
"No, no," she says. "I wasn't sneaking."
"You got up extra early, bought a pregnancy test and took it in the other bathroom," I say. "That's not sneaking?"
"What if it had been negative?" she counters. "Then, I would've gotten you all worried for nothing."
"Well, it wasn't for nothing," I say, motioning towards her. "You're the one who said we shouldn't keep things from each other anymore. You agreed that honesty is the best way to go, and that we should be more open."
"It's not like I waited a whole week!" she says. "It was half a day."
"Then you dropped the bomb on me in front of my daughter," I say.
"I didn't see another way," she says. "Would you have rather me waited until even later?"
"Yes!" I say. "I would've liked for you to break it to me literally any other way. You put me on the spot, and you did it on purpose."
"No, I did not," she says. "You're making it sound like it was premeditated, like I'm this evil person who's trying to force you to be with me. That's not it. You said you wanted babies with me, Jackson, so I don't know what to tell you. I don't know what to say to fix this."
"There's nothing to say," I mutter defeatedly. "Fixing it isn't the point."
"Then what more do you want?" she asks. "I feel like I can't do anything right with you lately. I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry I told you the way I did; I didn't think it through. I should've done it differently."
"Thank you," I say tightly.
"But what are we gonna do, bringing a baby into the world when we aren't married? When I'm not even moved in yet? When Athena is so unstable and hates even the thought of it?" She shakes her head. "It's all wrong. I know it wasn't supposed to happen like this. Having a baby is supposed to be happy, and I really don't feel happy right now."
"I don't, either," I say.
She meets my eyes vulnerably. "Do you not want it?" she whimpers.
"I already said-"
"I know," she says. "But I'm asking you for real… do you not want this baby?"
I let out a long sigh and feel my lips separate as I look at her face. It's a big step, arguably the biggest possible, having a child with someone. But as I look at her, bared for everything she is with every insecurity on display, I wouldn't want to be with anyone else. I just feel so unprepared. I don't know how to do this with a partner. I don't know if I'm ready to bring another life into the world and have them be as difficult as Athena was and continues to be. I don't know if I have it in me to mess up again, a thousand times over.
"Of course I want the baby," I say genuinely, then shrug. "I just don't know if the baby's gonna want me."
"What do you mean by that?" she asks, sniffling.
"I don't feel ready," I say.
"Well, I'm not, either," she says.
"I'm not a good father," I say finally.
She squints, looking at me like she doesn't recognize me. "Why would you say that?" she says.
"Because it's true," I say. "Parenting comes so naturally to you, but it doesn't for me. I have to think about it, I have to actively think about putting Athena first. For you, you just do it. You're going to be better at raising our child than I am. I don't feel ready for a baby because I don't want you to be disappointed. You're the only person who sees me the way you do, April, and I'm scared that when you finally see I'm not all you cracked me up to be, you're gonna hate the life you chose."
She starts to cry again, this time slower and silently. She walks closer and throws her arms around my waist, burying her head in my chest as her body vibrates. "Don't say that," she says. "I don't want you to talk like that."
"I'm not talking like anything," I say. "It's the truth. My own daughter didn't like me until you came along. Why should another child feel any differently?"
"You're gonna be a good father," she says. "You already are. Athena didn't start loving you when I showed up, she learned how to show it. You're wrong. You're raising a beautiful child, and I don't want to raise mine with anyone else but you." She holds my face and kisses me softly. "Is that why you were pushing me to go to LA? Do you think you don't deserve me?"
"I… I don't know," I say as realization sets in. "Maybe."
"I love you," she says. "And I trust you. I put everything in with you, I'm all in. You're so much better than you think, Jackson."
"I don't think that's true," I say. "I make a lot of mistakes-"
"We all do," she says. "I made so many today alone. I ruined the announcement. I made you and Athena so upset. I never wanted it to go that way. But… it did anyway."
"I love you, too," I say, framing her face in my hands while stroking her cheekbones. "I just need help."
"Everybody needs help," she says. "And you don't have to want for it anymore, okay? I'm right here. And I've got you right here. We have each other. We can do this."
"I wish I was as sure as you are," I admit.
"Well, I'm not really that sure," she says quietly.
"You're good at faking it, then," I say, touching her hair. "Listen. Baby… I'm sorry for getting so upset with you these last couple days."
"Thanks," she whispers.
"I'm glad you're staying here with us," I say. "I don't want you to leave, but I just want you to be sure about it. Because if you did wanna go, I'd be totally behind your decision."
"I don't," she says. "I want to stay. I want this baby… no matter how not-ready I feel. I do want this baby. Do you?" she asks, and I nod. She looks down, laughing at herself. "I know it's stupid," she says. "But can you say it out loud?"
"I'm excited for the baby," I say, caressing the side of her face. "I am."
"I love you," she says softly. "We can do this."
"With you, I feel like I have a shot," I say. "It's a nice feeling."
She snuggles against my chest, pressing her cheek against my heart. "I like giving you nice feelings," she says. "I don't like fighting."
"No, I don't either." Just as she's about to open her mouth and say something else, she bolts away and heads towards the bathroom. Before I can register what's going on, I hear retching sounds and instantly know what's happening. "You okay?" I call, hurrying towards the source of the sound.
When I show up in the bathroom door, April is on the floor with her arms wrapped around the toilet bowl, tears streaming down her face again. "It's happened a few times now," she sniffles, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. "Always makes me cry for some reason."
I sit on the floor with her and spool her hair into my hands, letting it come to rest behind her shoulders as she leans to throws up again. It isn't much, mostly bile, but it makes her entire body heave and contract. It's an odd sight; I forgot how violent morning sickness is. It didn't affect Myla until the second trimester, though, which struck her as odd back then. With April, though - this baby doesn't want to wait.
"Are we okay?" she asks me, one cheek resting against the bowl. Her eyes are duller, more tired now. I can hear the gurgling of her stomach from where I sit with my hand on her back. "Me and you, I mean."
"Yeah," I say. "As far as I'm concerned, we are. Are we okay by you?"
She nods and closes her eyes, then reaches for my hand. "We're having a baby, Jackson," she whispers.
"That we are," I solidify, tracing her knuckles with my thumb.
We sit in comfortable silence in the bathroom because April is too nervous to get up - her stomach keeps churning like another bout is on the way. So, we stay. We stay until we hear soft footsteps on the stairs, and then Athena appears in the doorway holding her stuffed bunny and wearing pink pajamas.
"Hey there," I say gently, trying to gauge the look on her face. Judging by the bloodshot quality of her eyes, she's been crying, too. Her cheeks are a little swollen and her nose has a bit of crust on it, but she looks to be in a more stable place.
She doesn't look at me, though. Instead, she keeps her eyes on April and extends the hand that's holding the bunny. "George's eye," she says, opening the opposite palm that holds a small marble. "It fell out."
"Oh, no," April says, looking between the two items. "I can fix it, don't worry. I'll sew him up tomorrow."
"Okay," she says. Athena stays standing there, fingers closed around the marble now. She shifts her weight from foot to foot and doesn't seem to know what to do with herself. Her eyes rove everywhere, unable to land as nearly-visible thoughts whir behind them. "Are you sick?" she asks.
"I am, just a little," April says.
"You can hold George," Athena says, holding out the stuffed animal again. "He'll make you better."
"Oh, thank you," April says, and clutches the bunny close to her chest. Athena stays where she is as if she's waiting for something to happen, and April watches her with receptive eyes. "Do you want to come sit with me, too?" she asks.
Athena said some truly horrible things earlier, and though she's only 8, April has the right to be hurt. But here she is, welcoming my daughter onto her lap with open arms. With her, the amount of second chances never runs out. I hope Athena someday realizes how rare and special that is.
April sits against the wall with her knees bent, and Athena finds her place between them, resting against April's chest. She holds the bunny after April gives it back to her, and she plays with his ears while she speaks, unable to look up. "Did I make you cry?" she asks, her voice so, so small.
April, with the biggest heart I've ever known, says, "No, no."
"Did the baby?"
She inhales deeply, contemplating an answer. "A little," she says.
"Did the baby make you sick, too?"
"Yeah, they did," April says.
"They?" Athena says. "Two?"
"Oh, no," April says. "'They' is just a gender-neutral term. We don't know if the baby is a boy or a girl, so I use the word 'they.' It's better than 'it.'"
"They," Athena says, testing it out for herself. "Or them."
"Mm-hmm."
I'm still in the bathroom too, but the moment is shared only between the two of them. It's like I'm not present at all, but not in a negative way.
"They'll have the same daddy as me," Athena continues after a beat or two.
"You're right," April says.
"But not the same mommy."
"No."
Athena bites the inside of her cheek and covers the bunny's face with his ears, then brings the toy up to her face. She covers her features with its soft fur, hiding as she speaks next. "You're gonna like them better," she murmurs.
"What?" April asks, eyebrows coming together.
"You're gonna like the baby better than you like me," Athena states again. "Remember what you said? The baby is gonna be the only one who knows what your heart sounds like from the inside. I don't know that, 'cause I was never in your belly. So, you're gonna like them better than me."
"Oh, Thena," April says, wrapping her arms around Athena's chest to pull her in tight. "That's not true."
"It might be."
"It's not," April says solidly. "I promise. You know why?" Athena shakes her head. "I don't get a say in what kind of person this baby is. They could be anything. Good, bad, silly, naughty, anything. No matter what, they chose me. But with you, it's different," she says, and Athena turns to look at her. With their eyes locked, April touches her cheek and says, "This baby, they chose me. But Athena Violet, I chose you."