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If we weren’t about to throw a curveball into this dinner, I could truly enjoy the comradery. But the thought of what’s coming has me trying to fill my mouth with food to prolong not having to share.
“I will say I was surprised when you suggested this dinner, Maria,” my dad begins, pausing to take a bite of his meal, which he has repeatedly complimented. “But in actuality, we should have done it sooner since Tyler now knows both Maria and me. It’s nice that things are working out in the classroom and that you two are working well together.”
At the comment, Tyler squeezes my knee under the table. This is the perfect time to bring up the real reason we came over.
As perfect a time for sharing major, life-altering news as could be.
“About that . . .” I start, my parents' focus turning to me expectantly.
Those words are as far as I can manage. I must have forgotten how to put a noun and a verb together and form a coherent sentence. This is my family. I should be the one getting up the nerve to tell them the news. But for some reason, with their kind smiles on me, I just feel a whole lot worse.
Luckily, Tyler picks up from where I left off.
“What Maria is trying to say is that we asked to have this dinner to tell you both that we have been seeing each other,” Tyler says evenly, and I thank my lucky stars that he’s a lawyer and probably used to keeping his composure through tough situations.
He doesn’t beat around the bush, and it happens so quickly that I don’t even think my parents fully register his words. Maybe it was his quick and succinct spiel that inspired me, or maybe it was just word vomit from all the anxiety that was building up in me.
Whatever it was, it told me not to lose the momentum of truth-telling.
“And I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, freezing once the words leave my mouth.
It isn’t just me, however. Everyone at the table seems to be frozen at my words. It’s almost worse than immediate yelling. It leaves me in a state of not knowing, and I’ve never been one to handle that well.
“What?” my dad splutters, but I know he heard.
He probably just believes that if he asks the questions, I will somehow magically have a different response.
“I’m pregnant,” I say again, but this time it comes out in a mumble, already knowing that these two aren’t going to be jumping for joy.
“Oh, Maria,” my mom says softly, a look of concerned shock painted across her face. “You’re still so young, sweetheart.”
My dad blinks a few times. Then his gaze moves to Tyler before slowly moving back over to me, then ultimately settling on Tyler again.
“You,” he starts, his voice deeply menacing.
It’s unlike anything I’ve heard from my father. He’s always been more of a happy-go-lucky guy. He rarely talks badly of others, and on the infrequent occasions he does, he always manages to wrap the criticism in a positive statement, throwing in a joke or two.
But I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before. His eyes are filled with rage.
“Tom, I can see you are upset,” Tyler starts, but by the look on my dad’s face, it was clear he wasn’t going to get the rest of the sentence out.
“You think?” he seethes, his voice growing louder and louder with each word. “I trusted you to help my daughter with work. And you knocked her up!”
“I understand how you might feel. This baby comes as a surprise, but now that it happened, I am looking forward to becoming a parent. I love Maria, and I plan to be with her to raise our child together,” Tyler explains calmly, and I can’t comprehend how he’s keeping his composure when I feel like I’m on the brink of crying.
Tyler's words go straight over my dad's head. His face remains furious and his mouth opens and closes a few times as he thinks through the situation.
“Well, you better! Do you want a medal from us for taking responsibility? She’s only twenty-three! It’s unfair to steal this time away from her and have her take on motherhood this early in her twenties. She graduated college, like, yesterday!” my dad rages, his anger causing him to stand up as he yells at Tyler.
“Dad,” I squeak out, hating that Tyler is taking the brunt of his anger.
“Don’t you dare,” my dad says menacingly, breaking his attention from Tyler and turning to me. “What happened to you taking a few trips with your girlfriends? Backpacking through Europe next summer? Remember that plan? Now, you can forget about it for the next twenty years!”
He sits back down, turning to Tyler and barking out, “I bet you went backpacking through Europe back inyourtwenties, didn’t you?”
Furiously, he slams a fist on the table.
He has never talked to me in this way. He hasn’t even come close to it before.
