On his walk from the parking structure to his father’s hospice, Bix saw a hamster sitting on the sidewalk. The hamster wasn’t facing Bix, who only had a look at the rodent’s fuzzy, black butt, but he was sure it was Fatty. Slowly, and as quietly as he could, Bix tip-toed forward, silently cursing the slight squeak of his soles on the sidewalk and every car slamming him with a gush of dust-filled wind (though it left the hamster unaffected). As he got within a few feet, the hamster bolted into the street and Bix went after him, only looking up to see a lull in traffic after he was already two steps into the road.
The black fuzzball was impossible fast and Bix, in his too tight black dress pants that restricted his range of motion and ill-fitting dress shoes that occasionally made his toes go numb, couldn’t keep up with him. The hamster disappeared through a closed, glass door, and Bix went in after him. With the loud ring of a bell and a thud as it hit the doorstop, Bix threw open the door to a quiet coffee shop where all eyes looked up towards him.
Bix feigned a smile. “The door looked really heavy,” he lied.
Satisfied with his answer or out of interest, the patrons went back to what they were doing and so did Bix, still looking for the hamster.
“Bix!” A voice in the corner yelled.
Bix looked up to see Allison, his pregnant coworker, sitting alone at a small, round table, beckoning him to join with an excited wave. Her other hand held a bowl-sized mug, oveflowing with a decadent helping of whipped cream. She was wearing a somewhat conservative v-neck sweater any other woman might’ve worn without excessive cleavage, but could not contain Allison well. He feared his eyes might linger when he got closer, so he gawked from afar.
He gave her a small wave and walked over. “Well hey,” he said, “Good coffee?”
“Hot cocoa, sadly,” Allison took a big slurp, “It’s my tradition after doctor’s appointment; I come to Daily Addiction, drink my cocoa, and breathe in all the smells coffee, dreaming of when I can indulge again.” She took an exaggerated whiff of the air.
Bix laughed, “I can imagine.”
“Won’t you sit down?” Allison the question in a faux-formal voice, like a woman from more genteel times.
Bix glanced around the tiny shop—a few odd clusters of people happily chatting away, a couple of quiet loners working on laptops with headphones over their ears. There was no lone man who might come over and make Bix a third wheel.
“Sure,” he said, lowering himself onto the tiny chair. “How’d the appointment go?”
“Fantastic!” She announced. “The baby is doing well, which is a relief, it’s impossible not to worry, and the doctor and I picked out a C-section date.”
“You’re going to have a C-section?”
“No, it’s more like, ‘If you go this many days past your due date, we’re going in there and we’re not leaving until that baby comes out.”
“Wow,” Bix smiled, “You guys must be excited.”
“Who?” Allison asked, taking another drink, “Like me and the doctor?”
Bix started, “You and the who…” he looked at her hands, devoid of any rings. “You know,” he coughed, “your boyfriend?” He suggested, “The father?” Another guess. “Whoever you’re having this baby with.”
“Oh no,” Allison shook her head, “it’s not even my baby.”
Bix bit his lip and considered this response. He looked down and stared for a moment at her bulging belly.
“Can I get a coffee?” Bix asked. “Do you mind?” He stood up. “I feel like I’d do better in this conversation if I had something I could sip for a long time. To stall, you know?”
Allison said “yes” but Bix was already walking to the counter contemplating what he might ask her. “Are you sure? Because it looks like it’s your baby.” “Really? Not yours?” “This sounds like a great episode of Maury.” “What the hell did the doctor say to you today?”
“Can I help you, sir?” A bubbly little blonde barista asked.
By this time, Bix reached the counter without considering what to drink. He glanced over at the expansive chalkboard wall, covered in about 100 menu options, but he was worn out by them immediately. He looked back behind the counter, where another barista poured an almost neon blue drink from a blender into a cup.
“What’s that blue thing?” Bix asked, nodding towards the blender.
The blonde barista looked back. “The blended blue raspberry Red Bull infusion?” She asked in her high-pitched voice and happy tone.
“Yeah that,” Bix answered aimlessly, his gaze turning back towards Allison. “I’ll take that.”
He paid with a tip and he walked back to Allison, who still sat alone, happily sipping on her cocoa.
Bix too sipped on his sugary, sweet drink, still thinking over the right thing to say. He sat down across from Allison.
“Have you ever had a hamster?” He asked.
Allison tilted her head, slightly confused. “You mean like when I was a kid?” She asked.
“Or now,” Bix responded. “You don’t have to be a kid to own a hamster. You could do it as an adult.”
“Well, yeah, I guess so, but I did have one as a kid,” Allison answered. “Mine was this little dwarf hamster, a little ball of energy I named Twinkles.”
“That’s a cute name.”
“It was an ironic one,” she laughed. “He was a real asshole when I got him, biting me and chasing me whenever I walked into the room.”
“Chasing you?” Bix asked.
“Yeah, whenever I was in the room, he’d wake up and run to the side of the cage I was on, gnawing on the bars like he was trying to break out and get to me. Total psycho at first.”
“And then?” Bix asked. “How’d it get better?”
She smiled warmly with the memory, “Because I got him fat.” She laughed. “I fed him yogurt treats, cheese, lunch meats, carrots, whatever my parents let me feed him. He stopped trying to attack me when he realized I was the one feeding him. Then he was all cuddly.”
Bix imagined Allison as a little girl, bribing a tiny little hamster with copious amounts of food and treats.
“Did he ever run away or get out of his cage?” Bix asked.
“Nah, he was a coward,” Allison answered. “I left his cage open overnight all the time and he’d just look out over the ledge in wonder.”
“Hmm,” Bix made a knowing noise, looking down on the floor, scanning for the hamster he thought he had seen. “Okay, I give up; what’s the deal with the baby?”
Allison snorted a laugh and covered her mouth with both hands, “You dick,” she said, coughing, “I almost shot cocoa out of my nose!”
Bix laughed, too. “I’m sorry!” He exclaimed excitedly, his voice getting embarrassingly high-pitched. “I was thinking of the best way to ask—”
“And that’s what you came up with?” Allison interrupted.
“Kind of, yeah!”
“Okay!” Allison replied, still excited. She smiled and looked at him carefully, speaking softer now. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but promise not to judge?”
Bix took a long, exaggerated sip of his drink. It was almost sickly sweet. The artificial blue raspberry flavor mixed well with the taste of Red Bull and the whipped cream. “So I can’t judge you at all or just not aloud?”
Allison laughed. “Okay, so I have this cousin—”
“And I can’t judge you for a pregnancy story that starts with your cousin?” Bix exclaimed.
“No, no, no!” Allison laughed more, “Mikey is gay.”
Bix again sipped his drink. “Maybe you just tell me the whole story before I say anything else.”
“It’s pretty simple really,” Allison explained. “We’re not a big family, so we’re all pretty close. Mikey and his husband, Brandon, got married about a year ago and they were looking for ways to have a kid. There’s a lot of hoops to jump through and a big cost for adoption and an even bigger cost for surrogates and even if they did find a girl they wanted to have they baby, their child would only share DNA with one of them so…” she brought her hands to her shoulders and gestured to the rest of her body. “Boom,” she said triumphantly.
“Boom,” Bix agreed.
They both sat quietly, slurping their super sweet drinks.
“Okay but…” Bix began, “isn’t it still your baby?”
Allison bobbed her head from side-to-side. “It’s like… obviously it’s a baby growing in me and it'll have half my genetic materials and leave me with stretch marks and scars in some unpleasant regions, but I’m trying not to get too attached, you know? Even when it comes out as my little cousin or nephew or niece or whatever it is I’ll call it, I know I’ll be overly attached to this baby. Honestly, I don’t want to think about it as mine at all.”
Bix nodded, still a bit more confused than he would like to admit.
“Especially because I might just run away with the baby after it’s born anyways,” Allison snuck a sip and looked away. “Who knows?”
Bix laughed.
“So why’d you come in here?” Allison asked. “Kind of out of the way for you, right?”
“Well actually—” shit. Bix checked his phone. Too much time had passed, visiting hours were almost over. “Actually I’ve gotta go,” he said, standing up so quick he upset the table slightly.
“You ok?” Allison asked, concerned.
“Late to see my dad,” Bix said, “that’s all. Thanks for the chat, Allison.”
She smiled, “You’re welcome, Bix.”