My son’s fiancée is a little weirdo.
My son pulled a bottle of champagne out of his bag and said, "Mom, dad, we have something we'd like to tell you. Hold on, I'll get some glasses."
I saw him dart over to the glass cabinet in the living room, fling it open, and twirl four flutes of champagne between his fingers. My wife caught my eye. Her nails were picking madly at a scab on her wrist, and her face had turned a pale pink. Her jaw was twitching slightly as she fixed her gaze on Lisa. Lisa returned the smile, her face friendly.
I watched her shoulders stiffen as I muttered, "Breathe. It's going to be okay."
Bryan, our kid, recently met Lisa. He insisted on bringing her with him whenever we asked him around for supper because the two of them were so close. Despite our expectation that Bryan would eventually settle down, we had hoped that our only son would finally find someone who was more like him. Bryan was about thirty-five years old.
"What's the purpose of the champagne, honey?" With a trembling voice, my spouse inquired, "Did you finally get that promotion at work?"
Bryan scoffed as he set the flutes on the coffee table, shaking his head. “No, they gave it to someone else, stupid Alina! But don't worry, I've got something much more exciting for you. Lisa and I have decided to get married!”
My wife's nails clicked into my palm. I caught a glimpse of blood trickling from her wrist and jerked her hand away, holding it firmly in place.
My son and Lisa didn't seem to notice.
"Mother, father, we've been together for over a year, and we love each other so much, and we want to spend every moment together. We've decided to get married!"
I felt a tingle of sweat on the tip of my upper lip. My blood ran cold.
I saw my wife go pale, and I knew she was feeling the same way.
At first, I expected a round of applause and clapping, but then the room fell silent, and Bryan's brow furrowed.
I looked at Lisa, who was sitting on the couch with her legs crossed, wearing a black sleeveless dress that barely showed her chest and draped over her hips. Her expression did not change.
I said, "Bryan, we know how important Lisa is to you, but we can't in good conscience approve of this arrangement. We think it would be best for you to see a professional."
My wife said, "Bryan, you're a very handsome young man. There are plenty of other women for you to choose from."
Bryan took a deep breath and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Look at her, Lindsay is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen! She has flawless skin, gorgeous hair, and an amazing body! Plus...
My wife and I looked at him in disbelief. My brain was at a loss as to how to respond. My palms were sweating, and a chill ran down my spine. Was this our son finally losing it? Was this the time to wrestle him down and call the police?
“What are you talking about, baby?” she said, her hand over her mouth. “But how do you know?” I knew I had to do something. I stood up and put my hands on Bryan's shoulders. “Son,” I said, “if Lisa isn’t pregnant, then you’re making a big mistake. She’s a sex doll, and she can’t get pregnant or have children. Let’s all just sit down and have a cup of tea and talk about it.”
I brushed past him and went into the kitchen. Bryan's next words caught my eye. “You are making a big mistake, dad.”
Bryan pulled off Lisa's flowy dress, revealing her lower body in nothing more than a pair of lace underwear. I flinched at first, but then I noticed something else: a huge, deformed bump on her stomach, too big for her small size, and bulging in all the wrong places, as if it had been stuffed into her stomach.
My wife jumped up on the couch, screaming, while I stood there, staring at our son's exhibition, my skin crawling, wondering what it was.
Benjamin said, "It's our baby, Bryan! Are you blind or what? Bryan, I said in disbelief, 'A sex doll can't reproduce, it can't give you a baby! Please, you're scaring your mother!’.
Bryan looked as if he was about to launch into another of his angry tirades, but his mother's expression seemed to calm him down. He sat down on the sofa and covered his face with his hands.
When Lisa was unable to conceive, Bryan said, sadly,
“We had to find another way. We adopted.” I looked at him blankly,
“You adopted? But where is the baby?”
Benjamin shot me a terrible look.
“Lisa had insisted on carrying the baby to term.”
