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And that’s that. My life as a single mom started the second two critical phone lines got disconnected.
* * *
The night startsoff slow atLa Oficina, so I decide to join Sara and Carolina at the bar. “What are we celebrating?” I ask.
“An overall state of wellbeing,” Carolina says.
I purse my lips. “Sounds like a beer kinda toast then?”
“No,” Carolina jumps in. “Tequila!”
“Not all of us can handle tequila as well as you can,” Sara says.
“Speak for yourself,” I say and give Carolina a high-five.
I grab their drinks, a beer for Sara, and two shots for Carolina and me. “Ileana,” I call out. “Can you cover for a bit?” When Ileana tips her chin at me, I settle at the table with my friends.
“Who’s the new bartender?” Carolina asks.
I chew my lip. “New bartender? Oh, Ileana. She’s been here for a year. You’d know that if you came to visit more often.” I cross my arms and arch a brow at Carolina.
“I’m sorry—” she starts to say, looking guilty.
“I’m just messing with you. I mean, shehasbeen here for a while, but she works only a handful of shifts a month.”
Carolina smiles at me. I can never really give her a hard time.
“You’ll be seeing new faces around here,” I say, already deciding I want to give them the news. “One is Lola. She cleans up some mornings if I’m in a bind for time. I have a feeling she and Ileana are going to be working more than usual.”
“Business picking up?” Carolina asks.
“It is, but that’s not why.” Sara and Carolina set their drinks down to focus entirely on me. I take in a deep gulp of air and before I can change my mind, blurt it out: “I’m pregnant.”
And even though I say it with a straight face, Carolina laughs. When my features don’t change into an ‘I gotcha,’ she stops laughing, and her jaw drops.
Then her eyes grow with horror. “Sofia!” She yells and snatches my empty shot glass away from me. “You can’t drink when you are pregnant!”
It’s me who laughs now, watching her most scornful expression. “I wasn’t drinking. That was water. And please, say it louder. I don’t think those guys at the other end of the bar heard your announcement,” I tease, and Carolina winces.
“How far along?” she asks, this time in a whisper.
“Eight weeks.”
Carolina’s perfect, thick eyebrows scrunch up together as she starts thinking. “You need an OB-GYN. Have you started prenatal vitamins yet—”
I place a gentle hand on her upper arm to quiet her. She switched from best friend mode to doctor mode, and right now, I need my friend. “I love you for caring,” I say. “But I got it. I already have a doctor, and I’m taking excellent care of myself. You’d kill me if I didn’t.”
Carolina smiles at me, and after a short silence, Sara speaks up. “And we are happy about this baby?” she asks.
I smile. “We are happy about Spawn,” I reassure her.
“Spawn?” Sara asks, her mouth twisted in a scowl.
“That’s what I’m calling it—at least until I know if it’s a boy or a girl and can name it.”
Sara’s mouth twists into a grimace. “As in Spawn of Satan?”
“No!” I roll my eyes. “Like fish spawn. Sheesh.”
