Sam laughs. “Wow. I don’t know what’s going to be better entertainment. The game or watching you with that thing on.”
After trying on four shirts I finally find one that will completely cover the fake baby bump. It’s weird to look at myself in the mirror with this on. Obviously, I have none of the other symptoms that come with pregnancy so it’s cuter than the hard-hitting reality that a human could be growing inside me. At least for now, let’s see how the day goes trying to maneuver around with this thing.
“It’s kind of cute,” I tell Sam and she just snorts.
“It’s eighty-eight degrees out, let’s see how long the cuteness lasts.”
I start to think about if it were real and I become an aunt. I’m kind of into that because I’ll get to spoil the kid and do fun aunty things without the responsibility. I don’t even know if it’s the responsibility part of having a baby that freaks me out, or if it’s knowing that a baby would be someone to love and care for, and worry about. I just don’t need that kind of pressure.
Sam drags me from the mirror and we grab our purses and head for the bus stop that will take us downtown. I nearly trip up the stairs getting on the bus. The driver is concerned, but of course, all Sam does is laugh.
“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not that you’re a klutz but you’re not the most graceful person alive.”
The belly has its perks. When we get on, two guys exit their seats so that Sam and I can take them. They might have given us the seats to be chivalrous, but I’m going to give credit to the bump. As Sam takes the window seat in the crowded bus, I smile smugly at her, then take my seat.
I soon realize that with all my outfit changes and belly arranging, not once have I attempted to sit down with it on. Once I’m seated, my fake stomach just sits there—in the way.
Twenty minutes later, we exit at the Coors Field stop. Under normal circumstances the five-block walk would be nothing, but I can already feel the extra weight as my thighs start to burn with the effort to keep up with Sam’s energetic pace. I think nature is really onto something with a pregnant woman’s weight gain being more of a gradual occurrence rather than instantaneously. Once we get into the stadium, it’s packed! Walking around with an extra six inches in the front of my body is not an easy task in a crowd. And we’ve another half-mile walk around the stadium before we climb the steps to our cheap seats on the rockpile.
“Let’s grab our beers first. I’m going to get a pretzel, too, what are you having?” Sam turns to find me fanning myself with the free program book they were handing out.
“Yeah, beer for me and I’ll get a hot dog, too–let me buy this because you got the tickets.”
The line is long and while we wait, a group of women ask me how far along I am, what the baby’s name is and all kinds of other things. If I were really a mother-to-be I’d be so into this conversation but I don’t want to encourage them so I tell them everything is a surprise. Sam just smirks quietly next to me.
Finally, it’s our turn and we place our orders, though when I ask for a beer at the concession stand, the woman working the counter looks at me funny, and it takes me a minute to realize that she thinks I’mactuallypregnant. Of course, she does. Because who would be walking around with a fake baby bump? I just laugh like I was making a joke and order a lemonade instead, wishing I had brought a flask of vodka so I could enjoy a drink without everyone’s judgy eyes. Though it does give me pause because that’s nine months without alcohol of any kind…there are a few things I need to think through I’m realizing. This pregnancy is going to affect my lifestyle more than I was thinking.
But no one can deny me a Rocky dog, the footlong hotdog they serve at Coors Field. I charge everything and Sam tells me she’s going to go up to the seats while I head over to the condiment stand so I can load up my dog with relish and mustard. A cute guy appears on the opposite side of the island and our eyes catch over the pumps and he smiles. I smile back. He’s cute. His brown hair is on the longer side, cut in a hairstyle that I thought only Zac Efron could pull off, but this guy is doing a pretty good job. He’s probably younger than me, maybe mid to late twenties. I like younger guys, when they’re not trying too hard they can be easy and fun. I think back to the smoothie guy from the bookstore, which I hate to admit he’s been on my mind all week, and wonder what he would have done if I would have given him my number. Maybe I should have given him a shot. He was older, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wanted to get married and have babies. He looked like he might be mid-thirties and if he’s gone this long without taking the family route maybe he doesn’t want to.
Before I can take my analysis any further, I catch Zac Efron’s brown eyes staring at me while he pumps ketchup into his French fry cup.
“Hi,” I say, smiling widely, curious as to what he’s up to.
“Hey,” he responds with a lift of his chin. “How’s it going?”
“Great.” My dog is loaded up, so I grab a straw from the dispenser and poke it in my lemonade. “Gorgeous day for a game.” My lips encircle the straw and I take a long suck of my lemonade. It’s a bit sugary for my taste, but the straw is a nice prop to have.
I like flirting and casual hookups. It’s fun and easy, no commitment involved. I’m really good at keeping my feelings at bay and I just enjoy the time together—I think I’m probably a guy’s dream that way.
“Yeah.”
Fry guy’s eyes drop to my lips and I know exactly what he’s thinking. I am, after all, sending out the vibe.
“I’m up in a suite with some friends.” His eyes flick back up to mine. “They didn’t have fries so I came out here to get some.”
I smile. “Fries are good.” If he likes my straw action, I bet he’d love to see me eat this hotdog. “But I’m a fan of Rocky dogs.”
“That’s a big hotdog,” he comments, his eyes locking onto mine. Yeah, he gets it. “Listen. This might be forward, but do you want to join me in the suite?”
“Oh, that would be fun!” I gather up my Rocky dog and lemonade so I can move around to his side of the condiment island. “I’m here with a friend. Another girl. She’s in our seats watching the game. Do you want to wait here while I go get her?”
While I’m talking, something in Zac’s eyes changes. He was smiling and giving me sex eyes one minute, and the next he’s looking at the fake bump, in shock. I nearly laugh at his reaction but what he says next gives me an odd feeling.
“Actually, it’s my buddy’s suite,” he motions over his shoulder and starts to walk backwards, “and I forgot he had some other friends coming. I’m sorry.”
I’m not going to lie, it’s a hit to the ego. Although I can’t blame him. He’s just looking for a fun time, and he probably thinks I’m on the hunt for a baby daddy. It’s a little much for a summertime Saturday afternoon. Suddenly I’m wondering why I wore this damn thing anyway.Because it’s going to be real soon and you wanted to see how it felt.
“Oh, okay.”
