The Boys of Blueberries

18

"And she liked it," Allan finishes, grinning so wide his smile reaches his eyes. "Well, she didn't say it in those exact words, there were a lot a harsh criticisms in between, but I feel good about this assignment, I just have to revise it."

Sabina smiles and clinks her glass with his. "That's great, Dad. I'm really happy for you."

"Okay, enough yapping about me." Her father leans forward and stares at her expectantly, opening his palms. "Well?"

Sabina sips her drink. "Well, what?"

Her father gives her a flat look. "Aren't you going to tell me about Tristan and Brandon?"

Sabina had a busy week at work. She's exhausted, she's about to have her period, and she just wants a bubble bath, but her dad complained about not seeing her since the holidays and Sabina may be many things, but she's not a bad daughter.

She sighs. "There's nothing to say, Dad. He treats me well."

Allan raises an eyebrow. "And you?"

Sabina scowls at him. "You think I beat him up for breakfast?"

Her father shrugs.

Sabina rolls her eyes. "His son loves me. I think that should be enough of an indicator to know how nice I've been to Tristan as his partner."

He smiles and leans back, putting one arm around her shoulder, squeezing it. "I thought you didn't like kids," he mutters.

He says this curiously, like he really doesn't understand.

Sabina supposes she doesn't, either. "I don't." She leans on his shoulder and exhales heavily. "I can't explain it, Dad. Please don't ask me to."

"Okay," he agrees easily, kissing the top of her head. "I just want you to remember something."

"If you're going to say shit about the woman who birthed me, don't bother," Sabina grumbles, drinking again.

He purses his lips. "I just wanted to say you're nothing like her, and if you're afraid you'd be the same to your children—"

Sabina stands up. Her mood has been sour all day, and now—now it's even worse. "My not liking or wanting children has nothing to do with her, it has nothing to do with my childhood or upbringing or how I wish I had a mother who stayed—because I don't. I don't imagine what life is like if she hadn't left and I don't give a shit that she did. I just don't want children, Dad, okay?" She puts down her glass and grabs her bag. "We've talked about this before, and you just keep—" Sabina throws her hands up in the air and scoffs incredulously. "You just keep pushing me into giving you grandkids and that's not what I want."

Allan's features pull together. "Sabina, I just don't understand. I've never understood it when you had that..." he swallows hard. "That abortion after college, and I don't understand it now. If it's help you're worried about, I'm here, and Tristan's here, and he said you're great with Brandon." Her father looks at her and sighs. "Sweetheart, I just want you to be happy."

"And having a kid I don't want is not going to do that," Sabina says. "And we've had this conversation for years, Dad. You just think I'm less of a woman because I don't want to house or nurture or care for a child," Sabina argues, clenching her jaw. She shoulders her bag. "And Tristan has Brandon, and I'm with Tristan, and you don't know whether to be ecstatic that you're getting a grandchild or worried that I might leave him and you won't." She leaves the apartment.

In the car, as she's driving to Tristan's building to pick him up for their movie date, Sabina gets a call from her agent. She pushes the speaker button forcefully and bites out, "What?"