Mom told me she really wanted to see me for I haven’t come home every since I broke the news that I am pregnant—which was five months ago. I missed the birthday of one of my brothers, and, more importantly, I missed my dad’s birthday.
“Is Dad—”
My mom sighed. “You know your dad would just melt at the sight of you? He misses you badly—he’s got too much pride to actually admit it, but he does, JJ. Come on,” she said, and I paused to think, my eyes travelling to the sleeping Miguel a few feet away from me. I am supposed to wake him up fifteen minutes earlier but decided not to—I might have kept him up last night because I knew I was snoring.
“Is it okay if I bring Miguel?” I asked, and she replied with a quick and shrill “Who?”
I swallowed. “He’s the guy who got me pregnant,” I said quietly.
“Oh,” was all my mom could say. “Ma, he wants to talk to you both. He wants to—ah—in his words ‘let you know of his intentions,’ that he’s not going to run away from his responsibility,” I explained, my voice almost pleading.
“We’ll see,” my mom replied, and after telling me to take care of myself and my baby—they still don’t know I carry twins—and that she looks forward to seeing me—I could tell by the tone of her voice that she’s so not looking forward to seeing Miguel—she bade goodbye.
I placed my cell phone on the countertop and headed towards Miguel. I sat down next to him, and patted him on the shoulder. He slowly and sleepily opened his eyes and then smiled. “Good morning, J,” he said, and I mumbled my greeting. He pulled himself up and gave me a light kiss on the lips before lying back down on the bed.
“Miguel, it’s already seven,” I told him, and he groaned. “Seriously?” he asked, and I nodded. He sat up and leaned his chin on my shoulder, his hands wrapping around my tummy. “You okay?” he asked.
I avoided the question. When you’re already five months on the way and still have remnants of morning sickness, you will never be okay, but when you couple it with family problems, it doubles the emotional baggage. “I already cooked breakfast,” I said instead. “At least, I tried to,” I added, forcing a smile.
“Hmm,” Miguel said thoughtfully. “So, should I look forward to burnt eggs and hotdogs for breakfast?” he teased, and I rolled my eyes. I stood up quickly—he fell back onto the bed—and stomped to the bathroom.
“JJ, I’m just kidding, come on!” I heard him call out, but I was already pissed. I drowned whatever he was saying by turning on the shower on full blast.
“Ow.”
Both Lorraine and Erica, both my “seatmates”—ergo, their cubicles are nearest to mine—looked up from what they were doing. I think it wasn’t the “ow” that caught their attention—it was the sharp gasp that I let out as I felt the pain.
“Why? What’s wrong?” they asked almost at the same time, and everyone else turned to look. Miguel was nowhere in sight—from what I know he has a client meeting. I held onto my tummy and I knew my face was halfway between wincing and smiling amusedly.
“Kick,” was all I could muster as an explanation, as another one came through. Lorraine and Erica stood up and placed their hands on my tummy to feel the kick, and my baby—okay, babies—heeded. They wowed and oohed, and I looked up, smiling widely. I looked up, knew I had to find Miguel, and it was if Fate conspired to have him walk in the moment I looked up. A flash of concern and worry flitted his face at the moment his eyes laid on Lorraine and Erica feeling my tummy.
“Miguel,” I called out to him, and beckoned him to come over with a nod. Lorraine and Erica gave way to Miguel, and he knelt before me, hesitantly placing his hand on my tummy. The babies, probably sensing it’s their father, gave two nasty kicks that made me wince.
“Oh,” Miguel whispered, and I could see tears forming in his eyes. He placed his ear on my tummy, and I just smiled.
Lorraine, the shutterbug, took out her trusty digicam and shot Miguel’s amused reaction.
“So, do you know the kid’s gender already?” Josh asked, and I turned to Miguel.
“Uh, we’re having twins,” Miguel said, and cheers erupted.
“Wow!” Everyone said, and they started to ask us questions that I let Miguel answer. Questions about when’s the due date, how will I deliver, and the gender of the kids left Miguel just smiling through the questions. He didn’t know—and so now I remember.
“Due date’s in second week of January. About the delivery, my ob-gyne brought up the idea of Lamaze, but I still haven’t thought about it. Gender? Hmm. I want it to be a surprise,” I answered for Miguel, and he just nodded.
After all the questions about my pregnancy were exhausted, we went back to work. Miguel Popped me the moment we sat back down on our desks.
Miguel: I feel bad.
JJ: I think I felt that you would feel that way.
Miguel: I don’t know a thing about your pregnancy, J.
JJ: You do know I’m having twins.
Miguel: Humor me.
JJ: I can come over and give you a hug right now if that will make you feel better, Miguel. Come on. I’ll tell you all about whatever you want to know when we go home, alright?
Miguel: Why do I feel like I still can’t do anything right with you?
JJ: You made me move in with you. You’re saving up for me and the babies and the entire after pregnancy thing. You didn’t run away from me. Keep me company and keep up with my moods. I think you’re doing okay with me, Miguel. Stop it.
He glanced at me and then shrugged. I stopped myself from standing up and actually hugging him.
I think Miguel has certain insecurities right now because I wasn’t giving him enough assurance. I sighed.
Your Door Marked Exit 