Born Losers

13.

December 25
15 Weeks Before
4:35 p.m.

"Then why does your boyfriend get to spend Christmas with us?"

"Because he didn't get me pregnant!"

Becca spat the words without stopping to think about them, then wished that she could reach out and scoop them back up as she watched Em's face disintegrate.

"Honey, I'm sorry," she reached out and touched Em's arm. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair to say."

"No, it wasn't," Em wouldn't look at her mother. "Mom, it's different, okay? Before it was like... like we were playing at what a relationship was like. This time it's for keeps."

Becca's favorite part of the house was the gas fireplace in the living room, and she got up now and crossed the room to turn it on, let the first lazy trails of warmth heat her suddenly chilled hands.

"Sweetheart," she said when she finally got her thoughts in order. "I'm sure that you both believe it, and that's great. But you're both only eighteen. It's hard to know what love at that age will translate into once you grow up a little bit, and saying right now that it's for keeps is a little intense. Do you understand why I'm worried?"

"You're the one who told me that I couldn't see love as being conditional," Em, still sitting curled up on the couch, kept her eyes on the flames, wouldn't meet Becca's gaze. "If I'm serious about him, and I really, truly love him, I have to go into it every day choosing to believe that what I do and say is for us long-term, right?"

"Ye-es," Becca said hesitantly. "I mean, I do think that's the key to a lasting relationship. I just don't know if it's wise to tie yourself up in one when you're still so young and there's so much the world has left to offer you."

Em finally locked her eyes on her mother's, and her smile was sweet and guileless and tinged with a bite.

"It's going to be better if we do it together," she said simply. "Being with August doesn't cut my options in half."

"Really?" Becca said. "And that's why you flat-out refuse to even entertain the idea of going back to New York for college?"

"I didn't flat-out refuse," Em disagreed. "I said it was low on the list."

"Your list is three colleges long."

"What's your point?"

There was a quick rap on the door, cutting off their discussion as the door opened and Andrew came in, shaking a tiny flurry of sleet off of his jacket.

"Hello, ladies," he said, stopping and taking in the scene: Becca still backed up against the fireplace, Em on the couch with her knees up to her chest and a glare on her defiant little face.

"I can come back later," he offered, and Becca shook her head.

"It's fine," she said quietly, and then turned back and trained her eyes on Em.

"He can come over," she said, then stipulated, "but you have to stay downstairs."

"Alright!" Em threw her hands up and scowled. "Fine, fine, fine."

She hurled herself off of the couch and stomped off, flipping Andrew a wave so bitter that he looked to Becca with a bemused expectation.

"She's eighteen," Becca said by way of explanation. "She has a tattoo. Please tell me you brought the wine."

"Do you even want to come over?" Em asked, pacing the room with her phone clutched up against her cheek, and August's laugh was warm.

"I always want to come over," he said. "Look, it's okay. I get why your mom's trying to be careful. We'll stay downstairs and calm her down and then later, when she goes to bed, I can climb up the wall like Spider-Man, falling down and fracturing my back in the process, and then once I heal up and do rehab and buy a ladder I'll sneak up into your room again and kiss you so hard that you'll make all sorts of bad decisions."