“I’m okay. I’m . . . I’m so sorry I didn’t call sooner.” I paused, taking a deep breath, and forced myself to keep going. I could feel my dad watching me, waiting for me to say what had to be said. “Can you still come over now?”

“Yeah, of course. Do you need me to bring you anything?”

“No, thanks, though. I just . . . I just want to talk to you. About something.”

“You need to talk about something? Is everything all right? What’s going on?”

I started to say yes, everything was fine, I was all right, but I couldn’t lie to him. Everything wouldn’t be fine, and I wouldn’t be all right, not after I told him.

“Just come over as soon as you can, okay? I love you.” I hung up before he could say anything else.

“Are you happy now?” I asked my dad, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. “Are you?” I was shouting, practically spitting at my dad’s face, but I didn’t care. He deserved to feel at least a small piece of the pain and suffering that he was putting me through. “Are you happy that I’m about to lose someone I really, genuinely love and care about?”

He sighed. “This is his responsibility, too, Mina,” he said, as if he were explaining something entirely new and groundbreaking to me. “I expect that he’s man enough to work through it with you. And I certainly hope for the child’s sake that this isn’t the end for you two.”

I laughed, and it came out as a cold, hard shriek. “You don’t get it. You don’t get it, and maybe you never will.” I pulled myself out of my mom’s grip and slid farther down on the bed. She might believe me, she might be my most loyal ally, but she hadn’t done anything to stop him. I knew deep down that she probably couldn’t have fought him off any better than I had, but I couldn’t be close to her, either, right now.

“Can you both please leave my room?” I asked, pointing at the door. “I need to be alone. You can call me down when Nate gets here, and then you can sit and watch the destruction for yourself. It’ll be fabulous entertainment, A-plus epic drama, exactly what you asked for. Just you wait and see.”

• • •

I wouldn’t have needed to be in the room, sitting next to Nate on the faded gingham loveseat, my parents perched on the edge of the sofa across from us, to know exactly how the conversation would play out.

I felt my voice shift into automatic as I went through the details of the Iris encounter. On my third time telling it, the words all came out very neatly, streamlined, almost like a bedtime story worn in from being read out loud night after night. I saw Nate’s perfect, beautiful face pinch up in confusion and disbelief, saw as it morphed into anger and repulsion and hurt, so much hurt, when he finally understood what I was trying to tell him, why I had called him over to my house.

“This isn’t serious, Mina,” he said at the end, his dark, bottomless eyes begging for me to tell him that this was all some elaborate, senseless joke, some strange fever-induced babbling that had nothing to do with our real lives. He wanted to prick a hole in the terrible bubble that was growing bigger and bigger, swallowing the entire room, and go straight back to normal—pop! bang! swoosh!—as if none of this had ever happened.

“It’s serious, Nate. It’s all serious.” I wanted to reach out and put my hand on top of his hand, lock my fingers into his so that he couldn’t get up and walk out the door. But I couldn’t—I didn’t think I could handle the rejection of him yanking his hand away.

Why didn’t I have sex with him?

Why hadn’t I just let it happen? Why not on that perfect night up in the tree house? I loved him, I definitely loved him, and he loved me. If we’d been having sex, he would have believed that the baby was his. We both would have, of course. There’d be no other option, Iris or no Iris. Believing in anything Iris said was only possible in the absence of all other scientific explanations. It was a last resort, something to cling to when there was nothing else left.

But if I had lost my virginity to Nate, he would have stood by me and supported me. We would have raised the child together. Or we would have decided that I should have an abortion or give the baby up for adoption, but we would have made those decisions together, too.

But I hadn’t had sex with him, and after this, I never would.

“Nathaniel,” my dad said, clearing his throat to warm up.

I’d never heard him say Nathaniel before—it was always just Nate, to me, to everyone—and the sound of his full name felt so formal and unfamiliar, like someone I didn’t know. My dad hadn’t spoken once since we’d sat down in the living room, letting me tell the Iris story on my own, no interruptions, but I could tell from his constant squirming and foot tapping that his mind was leaping ahead to the questions he needed to ask and the answers he needed Nate to give.

“Now, Mina is fully intending on having this child. I respect her decision to not have an abortion, of course, but you can understand that I’m very worried about what’s to come down the road. I think that the two of you need to very, very seriously consider adoption here. Recognize that it’s the best option for both of your futures.” He put his hand up, as if to stop any potential argument before it started. “You two kids have so much potential, so much life and opportunity ahead of you, that you owe it to yourselves to at least think about giving this child to some other responsible, grateful couple, instead of raising it on your own. There are so many families who would be much better equipped to give this child the life he or she deserves.”

I thought again of my baby growing up as part of someone else’s life, completely removed from my own, and my stomach twisted. No! I wanted to scream. This was my life. My baby. There was a reason. There had to be a reason.

“Mr. Dietrich . . .” Nate started, and my muscles tensed, knowing what would undoubtedly be coming next.

“I know this is a lot to be hit with all at once, so I don’t expect you to have any immediate answers,” my dad said, plowing on, too absorbed in his own monologue to notice anyone’s reactions. “But six or so months will be over before you know it, and you need to start planning now. Mina may be the one carrying this child, but these decisions clearly involve you, and I’d like to see the two of you make it through this together. You know, I’ve always liked you, Nathaniel, and this doesn’t have to change everything. We all make mistakes, and life is about how you react to those mistakes.” He folded his arms and tilted his head toward Nate, signaling that now, finally, he could take the floor.

“I appreciate everything you’re saying, Mr. Dietrich,” Nate said quietly, “but this is not my child. Without getting graphic, there is absolutely no conceivable, scientifically possible way that this is my child. So you’re wrong. These decisions have nothing to do with me. None of this has anything to do with me, not anymore.” He stood up, looking back down at me with tears spilling from his eyes. I’d never seen Nate cry before.

“Nate, please,” I said, whimpering, as I stood up to face him. “Please believe me. Please give me a chance to prove myself.”

“You’re pregnant, Mina, and I’m not the father,” he said, his voice shaking as he tried to fight back a sob. “How do you think that makes me feel, Mina? I loved you so much, so much, and you . . . How could you do this to me?” The last words came out louder, angrier, and he looked over at my parents, weighing the fact that they were listening to all this. He kept going, though, clearly unable to leave without telling me exactly what he thought about everything. What he thought about me.

“You cheated on me, Mina, and now you don’t even have the decency to admit you did anything wrong? I can’t believe you—you of all people—would ever be capable of doing something like this. You weren’t having sex with me, but you’d sleep with someone else?” He put a fist to his mouth and looked down at his feet, cheeks flaming red. “You’re disgusting. I don’t want to talk to you ever again. And after we graduate, I never want to have to see your face for the rest of my life.”