The Secret Life of the American Teenager: Aftermath

Chapter Eleven

I was practically skipping around my apartment today. It was Friday morning and tonight Ricky and John would be coming.

I'd told Evan and he seemed upset. We actually kind of got into an argument over it.

"I don't want them coming to see you"

"Evan! He's my son!"

"Yeah, your son with your ex-fiancé!"

"Ricky's not even going to be staying my apartment. It's fine, really. What, is John supposed to never visit me?"

"Fine. Bye"

Then the call disconnected.

Well, whatever. He'd get over it when he finally believed that I had no feelings left for Ricky.

I was cleaning up. I bought caps to put on all the outlets and yesterday I bought a toddler bed.

I was just so excited for him to stay here! I'd missed so many moments. I missed him learning how to ride a bike with no training wheels (he did it so early and I was super proud of him), learning to swim, learning to read.

I feel like I missed everything. John deserves a better mom. But I shouldn't think about that right now. I was going to be a good mom.

I didn't have very many classes but they were long and S-L-O-W. But when I got home, I got a text from Ricky saying "just landed."

I needed to make dinner. It was a little later than when John usually ate dinner (7:00) but they would probably be tired after traveling.

Ricky was probably expecting spaghetti. I make really good spaghetti. But, I wanted to surprise them. So I'd picked up lean cut chicken at the store and breaded it. I'm putting it in the oven.

This feels so grown-up. Making a real dinner. It's silly, but I'm excited.

It's hard to pass time. I don't have a TV. I could listen to music. Or I could paint my nails. I'd do that. Paint my nails.

My nails were always a mess. They were nicely manicured before I had John. But after that, having cute nails had seemed the last thing on my mind. But I liked doing them.

I painted them a pretty, pale pink. Then once they dried I went back through and carefully painted little white polka dots on my ring fingers.

The oven beeps just as a knock comes on the door. My nails were still wet.

"Who is it?"

"Mommy?"

"Come in baby!"

And I see him. John. My beautiful boy. I saw him every day for three years, and now I never saw him. He was truly a blessing.

I wiped the polka dots off on a paper towel. My 'old life' didn't matter. These nails wasn't what was important. My son is the thing that's important.

I pick him up and hug him. I smell his hair and kiss his cheek. I take in all his features. I love him. I missed him. And now he's mine. He's here. All that matters.

Finally, I set him down.

"I've missed you," I tell him.

"I've missed you too Mommy."

I suddenly notice Ricky again.

"Oh, hey, uh, Ricky."

"Hey," he said with a smile. Are we going to just pretend like that big blow up fight we'd had a month ago just didn't happen at all?

Whatever, this was my weekend with John. Not Ricky.

"I guess I'll just be leaving now. In this bag is John's toys and in this one-"

"Won't you stay for dinner? I made something."

"Spaghetti?" He asks warily.

"Chicken."

He looks a little bit surprised that I made something other than my signature dish. It gave me satisfaction to see him caught off guard.

I got dinner out of the oven and we had a nice meal. Even John liked it when I cut it up into little pieces for him and let him dunk them in ketchup.

Ricky left shortly after that. John and I played with cars and read a ton of story books before I tucked him in and sang him a song.

"Hush little baby don't say a word"

"Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird. And if that mocking bird don't sing, mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring"

"And if that diamond ring turns to brass, mama's gonna buy you a looking glass. And if that looking glass gets broke"

"Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat. And if that billy goat runs away"

"Momma's gonna buy you another someday"

I always sang this shorter version because John got restless when I sang the same song for too long when he was little.

I close the door and blow a kiss and then I go to bed myself.

On Saturday, we go to the science center then home for lunch and then this carpet skating park thing. He loves it.

On Sunday, we went to the pool and we played mini golf. I packed a picnic lunch and we are in the park. It was perfect. I never wanted the weekend to end.

But it was Sunday night. Jog a me J had just finished dinner. He was pretty worn out. His eyelids were drooping.

Ricky knocked on the door to my apartment. I don't know what he'd done the past two days here in New York, and I didn't really care. The time with John made me so grateful.

I open the door.

"John's kind of sleepy. We had the best time."

We both stare at our beautiful son. I'm going to miss him. Tears are welling up in my eyes.

"Goodbye my sweet boy," I tell him, with a hug and a kiss. "I miss you already."

"I have to leave?" John asks. "I wanna stay. I wanna be with you."

"I'm sorry baby."

I'm holding back tears. I don't want him to go.

"Are you ever coming back Amy?" Ricky asks suddenly. "I know you don't want to talk about the baby but we can't just pretend like it's not happening at all-"

"Ricky. Go," I say, rubbing my temples with my index fingers. "I can't think about this. Leave now."

He gets John's things and walks out the door. And leaves me sitting on the couch rubbing the tiny bump that holds a living, breathing baby.