Read Online What Came First by Carol Snow - Free Book Online Page B

out guys on a dating site. Then I feel another stab of guilt as I think, Eric has no career, no ambition, and no desire for a family. Plus Melva’s right: he’s kind of short. No one would ever pick him for a donor.
    I press the talk button on my phone. “Hey, baby.” I’d still choose him over 4317, if only he’d let me.
    Melva rolls her eyes.
    It’s been over a week since my birthday. I haven’t said anything more about marriage or children, and neither has Eric (of course). All I can do is pretend it never happened.
    “You free tonight?” He speaks loudly to be heard over the background noise. Eric usually calls me from the parking lot outside the Hawthorne Costco.
    “Yeah.” I would never plan something without checking with Eric first, so he’s got to know I’m free. For some reason, whenever he wants to go somewhere, he calls and asks like it’s a date. I used to think that was really cute, like he’s not taking me for granted. I don’t think it’s so cute anymore.
    “It’s my dad’s birthday, and my mom wants us all to come for dinner.”
    “Uh . . . sure. Is there going to be a cake?”
    “Of course not. She just wants us around.”
    “Oh, right.”
    “Angie’s put together that photo album or scrapbook or whatever she was talking about at Christmas.” Angie is Eric’s sister-in-law. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, but my mom said she knows about it but we all need to pretend she doesn’t.”
    The scrapbook. The thought of it makes my stomach clench. When Angie asked me for recent pictures of Eric, I gave her some cute pictures of us at Hermosa Beach last summer.
    She said, “No offense, but I really just want pictures of the family in the book, so I’m going to have to cut you out.
    No offense.
    When I was a kid, my best friend was this girl named Julie Castillo. Julie lived down the street with her two sisters and four brothers in a cramped three-bedroom bungalow that looked just like mine from the outside except mine was beige and hers was yellow, plus mine had scruffy grass in the small strip between the concrete sidewalk and front steps, while hers had plastic flowers planted in the dirt. Which I know is tacky, but I really loved them.
    On the inside, the Castillos’ house was nothing like mine. The house was alive with the smells of Mrs. Castillo’s cooking—onions and tomatoes and peppers—and the shouts and laughter of the seven Castillo kids and their army of friends. In my house, the television did all the talking, and the air smelled like garbage that should’ve been taken out yesterday.
    Every time I went in the Castillos’ house, at least after my father died, I wished I were part of their family. When Eric and I started going out and I heard he was one of four kids, I thought, this is it—the family I’ve been waiting for.
    But now I realize it doesn’t work that way. I need to have a family of my own.
    “You working right now?” I ask Eric.
    “I’m on break. Hey. Are we running low on bean burritos? We just got in a new shipment.”
    My jaw tightens. “Have you checked the freezer lately? We’ve got like twenty burritos left from the last bag you brought home.”
    “Yeah, I know. I was kidding. Anyway. See you at home.”
    Melva is still on the computer even though there’s an old lady in the waiting room. She clutches a big black bag on her lap and looks annoyed.
    “Hi, Mrs. Guerrero. Have you been helped?”
    The old lady purses her lips and shakes her head. Melva keeps her eyes on the computer screen, her mouth curled in a sneer. Mrs. Guerrero’s English is shaky, and Melva speaks Spanish, so she used to be Melva’s patient. But Melva said something to piss her off, so now Mrs. Guerrero will only let Pammy clean her teeth.
    “Pammy will be ready for you in a minute,” I tell her, speaking slowly.
    She nods and continues to look annoyed.
    Melva surrenders my chair. “Eric calling to propose?”
    “Yeah, right. It’s his dad’s birthday, so