my resolve to see her existence that way.
“Is that so? Then who is the father?”
“I don’t—”
“Know,” he finishes for me. “Only a whore would say that. Don’t argue otherwise. If you knew, that might suggest otherwise, but if you don’t…”
That’s what this is really about. He’s baiting me, trying to prove what he suspects—that Sterling is the father. The problem is I don’t know why he wants to know. He did everything in his power to get Sterling out of town. Now he’s gone, and I doubt my father wants to drag him back.
“I don’t see why the father is important.” It takes effort to get the words out without allowing my voice to break. It hurts to say it. Maybe because part of me knows it’s true. Sterling isn’t in the picture. Even Francie wouldn’t help me reach him. I’d been cut out of his life like a tumor—and maybe that’s what I was: something toxic he needed to root out before I ruined him, too.
“It’s one of your options,” he says, pulling a chair over to sit beside me. He doesn’t try to take my hand. In fact, he stays as far as possible from me as though my failure is contagious. “Tell me who the father is and we’ll arrange things.”
My eyes narrow. I don’t like the sound of that. “Arrange what?”
“The marriage, of course.”
“You want me to marry the father?” I can’t quite believe I’m saying it.
“For years, your social circle has included permissible choices. Say for instance that Cyrus Eaton or Montgomery West were the father. Either would be a suitable match, and their parents would certainly support it.”
I open my mouth, but I can’t think of a thing to say. It just hangs there. I feel like I’m being asked to play a child’s game. I’ll name candidates and my father will decide which are most like me, and which are not.
That’s how my life was always going to turn out, I realize. It was never my own. It never will be. Not if he has anything to say about it.
“I’m not marrying anyone.” He can’t force me down the aisle.
“Then that leaves two other options. Terminate the pregnancy.”
I swallow and level my eyes to meet his. They blaze back at me and I know that I’m not walking through this fire without getting burned. “No. I’m keeping her.”
“I assumed you would say that.” He sighs, the sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Then, you’re cut off.”
I expect this. It’s one of the reasons I left when I did. The longer I had before he found out, the more time I would have to get things in order. I’d planned to put some money aside, pay my rent in advance, do whatever I had to do to get by until I found a job. I thought I had more time. “I guess I am.”
“How noble of you.” His mouth twists, and I know exactly what he thinks of my decision. “Take the high road, will you?”
“If I had wanted an…” I can’t bring myself to use the word. “I could have done that back home.”
“Instead, you ran away like a child. Do you really think you have what it takes to be a mother? A single mother? A poor mother? No education. No means. You can’t afford this place.”
“There are other hospitals.”
“Yes, there are other hospitals for citizens.”
“I have a study visa,” I say defiantly. “I paid the healthcare surcharge and—”
“You do not have a visa as you dropped out of the program,” he interrupts me. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You’ve been lying and stealing from me for months.”
“Stealing?”
“The funds for your apartment, for your classes…”
“I paid for those things,” I say, but even as I speak I feel everything unraveling. No matter how hard I try to stop it, I can’t get a hold on the situation.
“And how will you pay for them in the future? Will you stay in the country illegally?”
“Dr. Thompson wants me to stay. I’m sure she can help me.”
“Likely,” he admits to my shock. He never likes to admit that anyone else can be right. “You’ll incur medical bills for your treatment here. They told me you would need monitoring following the accident. Those kinds of bills add up.”
“I’ll get a job.”
“Even if you could, it won’t pay for this hospital,” he points out. “And I doubt they’ll be willing to issue a work visa to someone who lied about her intentions