7. Fallon

Fallon

"Hey, Fal," Randall says, kicking the front door shut with his foot. "I got more baby formula—can you Venmo me? It was like, $30."

"Oh, yeah," Cassidy says, popping her head into the living room. "The diapers from yesterday were $40."

I glance between the two of them, my jaw tight. But I nod and give them a smile as anxiety blooms in my stomach, crawling up my esophagus. I already owe Gerald nearly a thousand dollars for the crib and the clothes and the bottles—and now, the recurring expenses have already started to roll in. I try to suck in a breath, but when I look down at the baby in my arms, the panic just compounds.

She's so little, and yet so expensive.

Laying her down in her crib, I back out of the living room and walk to the hallway, pacing back and forth, trying to breathe. After a moment of contemplation, I pull out my phone and Google how much it costs to raise a baby.

My heart drops.

Fifteen thousand dollars a year for child-related expenses. More if you want to send them to a good school, put them in activities. My heart starts to race when I think about the price of college, and how I'm already swimming in my own ocean of student debt.

I continue pacing up and down the hallway after stuffing my phone in my pocket. Maybe it's time to get serious about selling foot pictures. Cassidy and I have joked about it for years, but my PT salary isn't going to cut it if I want to raise this baby. Certainly not with the sizable student loan payment I have to make every month.

Putting my fist to my mouth, I think about the latte I foolishly treated myself to on payday last week. That's five dollars less that I have—that I need —to take care of this child.

"Fallon?" Joey asks, coming in the front door with several grocery bags. When his eyes meet mine, I can see that he's immediately clocked my near-panic-attack status.

"Chloe!" he calls, brushing past me to put the bags down in the kitchen.

"No, Joe, it's fine," I wheeze, even as I'm struggling to suck in a breath. Chloe comes bounding down the stairs, her face dropping when she sees me.

"Oh, Fal," she says, coming up and putting a hand on my shoulder. "Take a deep breath. A deep breath."

"I love you, Chloe, but deep breaths are not going to help me right now." I put a hand to my chest. "I'm already in debt, and now I'm going to spend millions of dollars raising this baby."

"Oh," Randall says, coming in the room to see about the commotion. "You've decided to keep her?"

"I don't know what else to do," I say, burying my hands in my hair. "I know it's not, like, technically my problem—but she's a human being. Another person my mom fucked over."

I can't stop myself from thinking: That baby is like me. And I so, so desperately wished to have someone—an adult—to swoop in and save me from my mother, take care of me. Give me a stable home. Maybe, by taking care of this baby, I can give that to someone else. Maybe that will heal something in me.

Cassidy wanders in, holding the baby in her hands.

"I think she's hungry," she says, and Gerald appears, starting to make a bottle. The kitchen isn't exactly big, and this many people—especially while Joey is trying to put away ingredients—makes it particularly cramped.

"Fallon, we could always sell feet pictures," Cassidy suggests.

"Do not sell feet pictures," Ainsley says, appearing beside Gerald and dumping an energy drink can in the sink. "That shit is online forever."

"Oh yeah…well what's your suggestion?"

"For what?"

"For how we're going to feed this baby!"

Ainsley glances around at all of us, then shrugs. "I don't know, we could like, embezzle."

"None of us are even in jobs where that's possible," I remind them, and all of our gazes turn to Randall, who still, to this day, will not tell us what his job is. " Right ?"

"No comment," Randall says. He takes out a jug of orange juice from the fridge and tips it up, finishing it off to make room for whatever Joey is trying to put in the door.

"Thanks man," Joey says, just as Chloe calls out, "Randall! Recycling."

"Right, right." He rolls his eyes and moves to the sink to rinse the container as Gerald shifts away, handing Cassidy the bottle.

Ainsley tries again. "We could sell the—"

" No ," we all say in unison, already knowing what she's suggesting. When we first moved into this house, we found a vintage baseball card that Joey discovered was valued fairly high—but the appraiser said that by waiting a decade, we could grow that money ten-fold.

"I'm just saying," Ainsley huffs, crossing her arms. "I don't even understand the point of the stupid card."

"It's an investment," Cassidy explains, rocking the baby as she feeds her. "We're playing the long-game there."

"Okay, so what?" Ainsley sets her hip against the counter. Today, she has a dark, smokey eye going, her eyeliner thick and black. "What's your plan, Fal?"

Everyone stares at me, and the clock on the wall suddenly becomes the loudest thing in the world.

"Don't you have a rich grandpa, or something?" Joey asks, pushing people out of the way so he can rinse some celery in the sink.

"He died," I mutter, at the same time Chloe says, "He's dead."

When our eyes meet, I can tell we're thinking the same thing. I give her a subtle shake of my head, and she quirks her eyebrows.

"Are you going to share with the class?" Gerald asks, laughing and leaning back against the wall.

"Fallon's grandpa left her money," Chloe admits. I shoot her a glare, but she just throws up her hands and mouths What?

"Oh, sweet," Joey says, shaking off the celery and moving to a cutting board. "Easy fix."

"He did not leave me money ," I correct her. I accept the baby from Cassidy and holding her up to burp her. "He left me a trust, with about a million and one different rules for accessing it. Plus, that guy was a total dick."

But Ainsley's brow furrows. "So, take his money. What is that, some sort of protest?"

"No." I sigh, thinking about how and why my mom had to leave home. How my grandpa played a direct part in the way I was raised. "I just—it feels weird. The whole thing. I just want to put distance between myself and them."

We stand in the quiet for a moment, the only sound is Joey's rhythmic chopping.

"Where is the folder?" Chloe asks after a second, and I know she's referring to the folder about the trust—the one that arrived in our dormitory mailbox when we were in undergrad together. I sigh again.

"Under my bed," I say, and she's already halfway out the room. I walk to the living room, laying the baby in her crib and watching her for a moment, heart skipping in my chest.

One minute later, Chloe comes tumbling back up the stairs and bolts into the kitchen, which summons me back.

She sets the folder down on the counter and brushing it off. "Jesus, Fal. It's so dusty under your bed."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't get around to dusting under my bed this week, with all my extra free time."

"Okay," Chloe says, ignoring me and flipping the folder open. She pushes through some of the papers, which are embossed with a shiny letterhead: A&P Law.

"This looks official," Randall comments, towering over everyone to get a look.

"It is official." Chloe's eyes dart to me, clearly remembering when I'd first received it. "Now, the requirements!"

Stepping back, she holds the folder up and starts to pace, reading out loud with one hand free for gesturing, like she's auditioning for a play.

"The following is a comprehensive list of conditions the trustee, Fallon Stewart, must meet to satisfy the requirements for accessing funds within this trust. First one! Must have an advanced degree from a reputable educational organization."

Beside me, Cassidy squeals, clapping her hands together gleefully, like we're on a game show. Joey puts his hand on my shoulder, distracted from his cooking by this hub-bub.

"You have that one!" Cassidy says, her eyes wide and bright. "What's next?"

"Second—must have no convictions or major felonies."

"Score!" Randall cheers, ruffling my hair. "Being a goodie two-shoes finally paid off."

"This list is very long," I mutter, "don't get your hopes up."

Chloe continues to run through all the stipulations, which detail that I must have lived in the United States for a certain amount of time, have not had any criminal proceedings internationally, must not have legally changed my first name—a weird one.

Even I'm starting to buzz with excitement as she gets near the bottom of the list. If I do actually, somehow, satisfy these requirements, it would take a lot of pressure off the whole baby situation.

"Final one," Chloe says, clearing her throat. "The beneficiary must be legally married in accordance with the statutory requirements—"

My mouth drops. " What ?" I snatch the folder from her hands and read quickly, feeling everyone else crowding around behind me so they can look. But the more I read, the angrier I get:

1. Requirement to marry.

a. The beneficiary must be legally married in accordance with the statutory requirements of the jurisdiction in which the marriage is solemnized. This includes, but is not limited to, the following prerequisites:

i. Both parties must have reached the age of majority or have obtained the requisite legal permissions if underage.

ii. Both parties must possess the mental capacity to understand the nature of marriage.

iii. There must be mutual, voluntary consent free from duress, coercion, or undue influence.

b. The marriage must be duly solemnized and evidenced by a valid marriage certificate issued by the appropriate governmental authority.

c. The Trustee shall require documentary proof of the marriage, such as a certified copy of the marriage certificate and any other supporting documentation deemed necessary to verify the legal validity of the marriage.

"Ouch," Ainsley says, pulling back. "Did anyone have Fallon and a marriage of convenience on their bingo card?"

I glare at her. "I doubt anyone did. I don't . Do you see what it says—it has to be free from undue influence."

"I'd say getting a fat check is pretty undue influence," Cassidy says, chewing on her bottom lip. As an almost-lawyer, she probably has a better grasp on the details of this document than the rest of us. "How much would you get, anyway?"

"Two and a half million dollars," Chloe informs us, nonplussed. We all turn to her, me the most shocked of all. The day the folder came in the mail, I'd completely ignored it, shoving it with all the other relics from my family under my bed. It never occurred to me to look and see how much money was held in the trust for me.

" What ?" I breathe, glancing down at the folder in my hand.

"Yeah," she says, her brow wrinkling. "It's on the first page, Fal."

"Okay, so who's going to marry her?" Cassidy asks, crossing her arms and looking at us. "I can't—sorry, Fal, but as a lawyer, I don't think I should engage in illegal behavior."

"But you're encouraging us to?" Joey laughs. His eyes dart to Chloe, then back to me. "Obviously, Chloe and I are out. Would be hard to explain if we just suddenly married someone else."

"Right," Chloe says, putting her hand on my shoulder, "but if not, I'd marry you in a heartbeat."

"Randall?" Cassidy tries, raising her eyebrows at him.

"I don't—" But it's useless. None of them hear me.

"Can't," Randall says, shrugging. "I'm not allowed to get married in North America."

" What ?" Joey sputters, laughing. "What?"

"We'll return to that later," Cassidy says, pointing at him, then, she turns to Ainsley. "What about you?"

There's a long, heavy moment where Ainsley stares back at Cassidy, then shakes her head.

"Oh-kay," Cassidy says, her eyes meeting mine again. "Sorry, Fal. But we could post to Craigslist—"

"No," I say, forcing a laugh that's a little too loud, because the baby starts crying in the other room. I'm saying it to everyone else, but feeling like I'm trying to convince myself more. As I turn, heading in the baby's direction, I proclaim, "Nobody needs to marry me! Everything's going to be fine ."