I didn’t plan this. Any of this.
My life isn’t what I would have chosen for myself three years ago.
I didn’t intend to meet him. I certainly didn’t intend to get pregnant.
He had been charming and gentlemanly, and I let him have me over and over during the time he stayed in New York. I tricked myself into believing that he would call again, and then convinced myself that I was being one of the stupid girls I had always hated.
I did it all. I cried by the phone, I wrote him dozens of letters that went unanswered. They all said one thing: Call me, Isaac. Please call me.
But he didn’t call, so he didn’t find out. Not until after Fallon was born. I could have gotten an abortion. No one would have blamed me. I was poor and alone, living in a studio apartment on a waitress’ salary, one that wouldn’t be growing thanks to chorus jobs in off-Broadway shows anymore.
It’s funny how you tend to be less desirable in a skimpy outfit and tights when your stomach is swollen to astronomical proportions. The directors weren’t nice. They laughed at me and told me to go back to the restaurants they know we all work at when they don’t choose to put us in their shows.
So, I waited tables. I waited tables until the day my water broke on the floor as I was handing a regular his BLT with extra mayo like I did every day. I’ll never forget that moment. I couldn’t tell if I was mortified or scared, and then I decided that I was somewhere in the middle, but the scared part was starting to take over.
I went to the hospital alone. I had Fallon alone. The sweet nurse held my hand and coached me, and I cried the entire time. The pain was nothing. Pain I could deal with. But the knowledge that I would be taking her home to the cheap crib that I had bought from the discount baby store with the few blankets that I had ripped in half to make baby-sized broke my heart. This was not how I wanted to raise a child.
As I made the final push, I screamed his name, hating his existence with every fiber of my being. But when I saw my baby’s tiny body coming towards me in the nurse’s arms, the hate morphed into pity. He would never see how beautiful his daughter was because he had been too selfish and too scared. I kissed her forehead and gave her back to the nurse before asking for a pen and paper. They brought it to me a few hours later, and I wrote him one last letter. This one said:
Isaac-
Her name is Fallon Marie and she has your nose.
-Julianne
I didn’t send this one to the address he had given me. I sent this one to the place their fan mail went. It would cause a stir, for sure, but maybe he would finally respond. He couldn’t just throw a piece of fan mail in the garbage without someone questioning it. I had never met his brothers, but I hoped that they were the good guys Isaac had told me they were. Maybe they would make him call me. It was better than never, right?
I took Fallon home two nights later and gently placed her sleeping body in the crib. She looked so small in the middle of it and I immediately berated myself for buying one that was too big. The light was blinking on my answering machine and the sight of it made my stomach flip.
Maybe it was him. Maybe he was in town. With shaking legs, I moved to the table and pressed the button. My mother’s voice floated hysterically through the air, screaming at me for not calling to tell her that I was in labor. She would be there on Saturday, she told me. That was tomorrow.
Now I had to clean my apartment, too. Thanks a lot, Mom, I thought as I went to tidy up, but another voice came on the machine. I sunk into a chair as his voice filled my ears. He was in town, he said, wanted to get together. He left a number and hoped he would hear from me. All of it with a happy tone of voice. All of it as if nothing had happened. All of it as if I hadn’t given birth to his child two days before. Out of morbid curiosity, I picked up the phone and dialed the number. It only rang twice before he answered.
“Hello?” he asked.
“Hey, Isaac. It’s Julianne.”
“Oh my god, Julianne! I was hoping you’d call. I can’t believe you never wrote me! I was always waiting for a letter. I thought you hated me,” he laughed.
I couldn’t speak. Not a single part of my brain was functioning.
“Julianne? Are you there?” he asked after I had sat there gaping into space for nearly half a minute.
“What the hell do you mean I never wrote to you? I… I wrote you dozens of letters!” I finally managed.
“You what? I’m sorry, I never got any of them. Oh god. You probably do hate me!”
“You never got the letters,” I whispered into the receiver, the words coming out as a horrified statement rather than a question.
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t,” he apologized.
“I can’t believe this…” I trailed off, feeling nauseous as I stared across the room at Fallon’s sleeping form.
“Something must’ve happened. That’s really bizarre,” he said thoughtfully before the cheerful tone of his voice returned, “But anyways, can we get together? I’d love to see you.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I said, panicking. He couldn’t find out now. It was too late. He’d freak out. At least before I could hate him for ignoring the issue, but now to find out he’d never heard a word from me? I couldn’t imagine how he’d react.
“Why not? Oh shit. You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?”
“No, no. Definitely not.” I almost laughed out loud at that comment. No guy wanted to date someone who was knocked up with someone else’s child.
“Then come out with me. You know, for old time’s sake.” I could practically hear him grinning on the other end of the line.
“I can’t go out, Isaac.”
“I really want to see you, Julianne. Look, I know that you’re upset with me for some reason, and I can only imagine that it has something to do with what you wrote in all of the letters, so please at least let me come over so you can tell me about it.” I buried my face in my hands and sighed, knowing that I had to give in. It was the right thing to do.
“Sure, Isaac. You can come over. Do you remember how to get here?”
“Yeah. Across from that little market with all the crazy fruit out in front, right?” he asked.
“That’s the place. Come over in a few hours, okay? Maybe around 7,” I suggested
“I’ll be there. I’ll bring food! Is that Chinese place down the street still there?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Great, I’ll pick us up some dinner. God, I can’t wait to see you.” There was that smile again.
“Me, too,” I said, only partially lying. I did want to see him, but not under these circumstances.
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, Isaac.”
The blind panic started to spread faster throughout my body as Fallon started to cry. I practically ran to the crib, picking her up and holding her against my chest. We sat down on the couch, and I rocked her while we both cried.
What was I going to tell him? What in god’s name was I going to say when he walked in the door?