Roll of a Lifetime

by Melanie Greene

  Pulling out her phone to text made it impossible to ignore the notification she’d known was burning its message at her all morning. Squeezing her eyes closed after reading it didn’t make it go away, either. She’d set it up after her ridiculous gut threw a strange idea at her on Thursday evening. She’d abruptly stopped coloring in her flower garden and stared off long enough for Hannah to tug the purple crayon from her unresisting fingers. She’d shoved the thought away over and over during the weekend. Gone back to her colorful garden drawing. Given herself the deadline of Monday at work to deal with it. And she had a free quarter hour before her next appointment.

  So. Fine. Dealing with it would mean one thing off her mind.

  Unless it turned out wrong.

  Or right.

  Her gut was far too twisty for her to figure out which answer she wanted. Theo did that to her. Loused up her instincts. Made it impossible to know if she’d ever thought straight one minute of her entire life. Or if every instinct was wrong until they met, and somehow now they were all right, and she didn’t know how to operate with a gut she could trust. Left her floundering to take the next step, in case the directions were reversed or her path was down uncharted, pit-filled roads.

  And this next step.... She sighed. Time to get on with it.

  She made her way to the pharmacy. And then the restroom. Locked herself in the stall. Peed. Waited. Waited more, ignoring her gut and the text message buzzing in her pocket and the gossip happening by the sinks. When she couldn’t bear more waiting, she looked. And the grin and the trembling arms and the soft buzzing in her head all told her something she’d for sure told her gut to not go getting excited about.

  It didn’t fit in the plans she narrated about her life.

  It disrupted the thousand and six precarious pillars keeping her world semi-stable.

  It didn’t make one lick of sense.

  Despite all that, despite all reason, there were millions of bouncing bits of spinning whirligigs within her, each and every one of them thrilled to find out she was pregnant.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  When they found out she was expecting Hannah, Aunt Johnston was the first person she called. She’d said, “Gracious, cricket, I didn’t know you all were planning to have children.” It might have sounded like surprised delight to anyone else’s ears, but Rachel had no difficulty reading the censure behind it. Aunt never liked Sergei, but it took her mild comment to set Rachel’s wheels spinning about all her aunt’s reasons for regarding him with suspicion and caution.

  She didn’t end her marriage cause her aunt told her to. But her aunt’s sad supportiveness somehow clicked a shit-ton of factors into focus, so by the time she announced her pregnancy to her gals, she was also announcing her separation.

  Not that she was ready to announce anything, beyond making an appointment with her ob/gyn. She had all the same crap on her mind, plus a new overwhelming fact to wrestle into place in her life. Or to jettison, because abortion made more logistical sense. If she channeled Serena and drew up a pro/con list, she’d need three times the room to list all the negatives of adding another child to her life the way it was.

  As if the length of a list meant it was her own right choice.

  Another call to make, canceling the trip to see some couple’s for-sale car. She’d stick with her old sedan, slow starts and occasional engine knocks notwithstanding. A new air filter and, fingers crossed, her car would get her and Hannah and anyone else she was carrying where they needed to go. She had other expenses now that took precedence.

  There. One decision made; one piece of crap off her mind. Only a million or more other things left. Theo replied and they arranged to meet right after she dropped Hannah off for two weeks of what was looking like way too much time to consider catastrophe scenarios.

  Like what kind of nonsense was it to think of having yet another child while essentially single? Who are you trying to prove something to? You think your parents will finally be impressed with you? snarked the Sergei voice in her mind. Are you incapable of learning from your past? Your sister is doing it the right way—successful career, strong marriage, nice house, and then baby. No wonder they’re always choosing her over you, the way you flounder and panic your way through life. And this time, you won’t have Depy to take you in. Not that she wanted Depy as her last resort, but snide Sergei was right, it wasn’t an option this time. If this time was going to happen. If everything was okay from the medical front. Because who even knew if there were consequences from that morning-after pill that didn’t seem to have worked.

  And okay, Theo was devoted to his son, but that didn’t mean he wanted more kids. If he turned truculent about the baby it was sure to cause all kinds of ructions for her little family. She worked like hell to be a good mama, but in the long term, how would her children process having two different but equally reluctant fathers? Or what if Theo was all-in on fathering his own child, and Hannah resented her mother, her father, her sibling, and her sibling’s dad for the slight? Living with that every day would sour her on relationships. Maybe they should move to Plainview after all. She could stay with Aunt Johnston and take the job with loathsome Brent Berg, and cross her fingers it wouldn’t wither her soul. At least that way their fathers’ neglect wouldn’t cause as much impact on her children. They could bond over resentment that she’d taken them away from their dads. Hadn’t she always clutched deep the dream of giving Hannah a sibling to bond with the way Rachel and Blythe never had? If the only way to ensure her children loved each other was to make herself the common enemy, so be it.

  The con list was a super cell tornado ripping through every coherent thought every minute she tried to ignore it and get on with her job.

  But the pro list was a thrumming neon glow warming her heart with each racing beat, so bright it made the cons waver and whirl out of focus.

  Maybe by the time her next Sunday call with Aunt Johnston rolled around, she’d have the slightest of clues if she wanted to break her news.

  Depy waited on her stoop for them, like clockwork. “My little princess!”

  Seemed like a sweet greeting but it always grated on Rachel’s ears. She released Hannah’s hand so she could run across the lawn and into her grandmother’s arms. By the time she’d unloaded the suitcase from the trunk, they’d disappeared inside, leaving the door open the merest crack.

  Fine with her. She’d let herself in all the time until Hannah was ten months old. Hadn’t given back her key when they moved to the apartment, either. If any of the Matsoukas were bothered by that, they could ask for it back. Or change the locks. She let herself in, tucked Effie into the bed in Hannah’s room, stacked the reward chart and stickers on the bathroom counter, and taped her updated emergency and medical contact list to the fridge. She found Depy and Hannah in the backyard, tumbling a big orange ball between them. Some angle of their smiling profiles created the kind of echo someone who loved them both would enjoy comparing. Rachel wasn’t that person. Every curve of her baby’s face was perfection, but in her current mood she didn’t adore the reminder of all the ways Hannah wasn’t only Rachel’s to raise.

  Fourteen nights apart. Maybe when Hannah was four or five. Or seven. Maybe then two weeks apart wouldn’t be so hard on them both. Maybe then it would make sense to her bright little brain. No matter how she tried to explain it, her girl was only two. She hadn’t developed a concept of time anywhere near sophisticated enough to understand not returning to Mama for two weeks.

  But instead of even pretending to understand and give her space for a long goodbye, Depy placed herself between mother and child to have her say. “You’re spending too much time with that Theo. Hannah will get confused.”

  “I’m not.” Too late to bite back her words. She aimed to reframe. “I’m free to spend what time I want with who I want.”

  “She’ll wonder why you’re so nice to that high-and-mighty boss man and so mean to her father.”

  “She’ll do no such thing. I’
m always polite to Sergei.” To his face. “And she knows the difference between them.”

  “He’s got his own child. He should leave mine alone.”

  Oh, too far, Despoina Matsouka. “Her elephant is on the bed. She’s trying to cut out a nap, so you might have some fusses late mornings. Why don’t you go see if there’s anything else you need before I go?”

  With that, she swerved around Depy and intercepted Hannah for a series of truly epic hugs that, sweet as they were, would barely sustain her for the all the days and nights until they got to snuggle again.

  He got to the coffee shop first. Not because of over-eagerness. It just worked out that way because drop-off for soccer camp didn’t take as long as expected. Andres was full of thrills about the mini-tournament they were running. His team was in the quarterfinals. Of course, so were all the other teams—it was a camp full of five to seven year olds, but try telling them it wasn’t a competitive environment. The coaches managed the teams so every one of them made it to a final match.

  Some of his son’s buzz infected him as he awaited his latte. He kept grinning. Which, to be honest with himself, he’d been smiling since Rachel texted earlier in the week. Feeling favored by Eros. And Hestia, for that matter. Planning nice meals with the three of them followed by nice private moments after tucking Andres in. The daydreams distracted him; he was surprised when she fetched up beside him.

  “Hey!”

  “Hey, yourself.” She leaned up for a kiss, but kept it appropriate to their locale, more’s the pity.

  “Coffee?” He linked their hands to lead her back to the line.

  “Yeah. Well, no.”

  He laughed. And okay, no one really would find it a funny comment, but that buzz had trebled as soon as he touched her. The laugh was like steam billowing through the safety valve to keep his boiler pressurized. “Okay. You want something, though? The coffee shop was your idea.”

  “Don’t be funny. Yes. Tea. Mint tea. I need to settle my nerves after dealing with Depy.”

  He hugged her tight, and never mind the appropriateness. “Sorry. It was hard to leave Hannah, I’m guessing?”

  “The worst.” She rubbed at her midsection once he stepped back. It was such a wrench, the long periods separated from the kids. He’d adapted over the years, but this was the longest time Sergei had ever had custody. No wonder Rachel was a pile of nerves. He listened to all the drop-off details while their drinks were prepared. At their table, her fingers clung to the hot mug like it wasn’t going to be another hundred-degree summer day.

  “You still up to come for dinner this weekend? How about Friday?”

  His attempt at distraction did nothing to restore color to her pale face. “Um, not Friday, no. I think Saturday would be better. Anyway, Andres will be wiped out after his last day of soccer.”

  Yeah, he’d kind of counted on that. Seemed like Hestia was raking up more points than Eros, that slacker. Well, better to have one god favoring him than none. “Saturday works. Lasagna okay? It’s one of his favorites.”

  “One thing we have in common already.” She smiled in a way that warmed him from the inside out, so his latte was redundant.

  “Excellent. I mean, I’m biased, but I think he’s great company. Especially if you have even the slightest bit of interest in Pokémon.”

  “Can’t say I’ve given it any thought before now. I’ll come prepared to learn. And I’ll bring dessert.”

  He palmed his heart and swayed back. “I didn’t know you could be so cruel. Are my pies so abhorrent to you? You’re sick of my baking already?”

  “Goof. You bake all the time. I thought you might want a break.”

  “It’s as if you don’t know me at all.”

  She dimmed. “I don’t, do I? I mean, don’t look all bulldog like that. I like you. Maybe a silly amount. But there’s so much.... Unknowns. For both of us. For all that seems comfortable, dating you, I know we haven’t gotten much below the surface. Yet. It’s a little strange to think about, is all.”

  His Adam’s apple scraped a line down the inside of his throat. “Strange bad?”

  She shook her head, quick like she meant no for sure. But it took her a moment of tea-contemplation before she clarified. “Not bad. I meant it, how I feel about you. Then things happen. Like seeing you playing with Hannah and Andres together, that jolt of confusion. I know you were careful to not say anything to them, but the image added all this sudden weight to my mind. Or like Sergei paying his arrears, and knowing you had something to do with that. And it’s good to get the money. Obviously. But still unexpected. And strange. And I’m not sure how it fits, and if I want it to fit, and if you....”

  He waited, hand still placed to contain the thrumming of his heart. His whole self leaned in to catch the meaning of her words, her body language. Any further definition of how she felt about him. Not that it had to be quantifiable. He could live without quantifiable. After too much silence, he filled the space between them with, “Sergei paid his arrears?”

  Piercing blue eyes. Turned out they were a weakness of his. “I thought you forced him.”

  “No. Of course not. I mean, yes. I mentioned it to him. Not, in so many words, though. All I did was explain that name days were important to me, but so were other parts of fatherhood, like paying my child support.”

  “Hmm. Any chance Depy overheard that?”

  Now he was the one contemplating his drink. He shrugged. “I know it wasn’t my place to say anything. I don’t mean to push your boundaries so often.”

  Her palm, warm against his cheek. Wrapping to the nape of his neck, tugging so their foreheads met across the table. “I know. I mean, I think I know. It’s a balance. And if we have a future—”

  “Wait, ‘if’?” He pulled back. No containing his racing heart now. “Shit. Interrupting. But, Rachel, I’m here, I’m in this. You called us dating, just now, and that’s not all it is for me. I’m thinking of you as a relationship. I know it’s tough, for both of us; we have to be careful for Andres and Hannah’s sakes. Protect them first. That’s a given. And I know I’ve screwed up interfering with your child support, that’s not my business. Probably screwing up now being all intense about my feelings. I’ll hush now. Please go on with what you were saying.”

  But she didn’t.

  His pushiness once again worked against him. Instead of talking about the future, she gave him a wry shake of her head and suggested they table the relationship talk for a while. He complied. Of course he complied. The woman had depths he had yet to probe—not in that way, Eros the Currently Useless—and some of those depths were treacherous. The best way to plumb them was with her as his willing guide, and that, in turn, meant accepting she knew what pace was best.

  So he skimmed the surface, asking about her work drama and showing off the latest pics of his sister Helen’s twins and taking her suggestion for the best ice cream shop to visit when he and Andres were at the beach.

  As he walked her to her car, she squeezed his hand and said, “You are definitely great, Theo.”

  “Serious?”

  “So serious.”

  “Well, thanks. And you definitely are, too.”

  And the kiss they shared promised to explore some future depths that both Hestia and Eros would appreciate.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It wasn’t okay, by some measures, to run off without spilling the pregnancy news. But the words refused to bubble up, so fine. She’d go to the doctor Friday, take the night to absorb whatever info that gave her, and try again after their dinner Saturday.

  Super reasonable plan. Didn’t make her twitch with regret at all. Or guilt. Not one negative feeling. Certainly not by the time she was gowned and sitting on the paper sheet of the exam table, legs dangling. Toes curling in her socks, then flexing while she pushed out a breath that did not calm her down. Proof: the way she startled when at the knock on the door.

  “So, yes.” Dr. Saavedra raised her eyebrows, watching for her reaction
to this confirmation.

  Rachel didn’t know it herself. Relief? Terror? Her toes were still curled, for whatever that was worth. “So.”

  “Do you need a moment? Or should I launch in with calendars and blood draws and the ultrasound?”

  She flexed her toes. “Okay. Sure. Let’s launch. It’s five weeks. From conception, I mean. My cycle ended almost nine weeks ago, it’s never reliable but I looked it all up. And that night was five weeks and two days. The condom broke. I took an EC pill, but ... well, you know better than me how that might not have worked. So.”

  She really liked how Dr. Saavedra never interrupted her. Maybe it explained why her words finally bubbled up. And Dr. Saavedra accepted the flood, not even using the time to make notes. Rachel confirmed she hadn’t thrown up or bled or any number of other things in those five weeks.

  “Okay, we’ll take a look now. Sometimes people end up on the slim side of statistics. Let’s take today in hand, and go from there.” Then she did lots of typing and bustling and directing Rachel to lie back and such. Then: silence.

  Waving a wand around inside her, clicking, staring at a screen. And silence. Machine noises, but no words. Granted she was steeped in a super emotional fog in the early weeks with her Hannah pregnancy. Dealing with that news and the urgency of needing to leave Sergei and the impossibility of supporting herself after all the money he’d taken from their joint account to invest in some friend’s scheme and telling her you’ve never had a head for numbers, Rachel, stop acting like this is a problem. You fucking question me at every turn when you’re incapable of grasping the most basic things. All those vows to cherish and honor me, and you can’t even get a decent dinner on the table on time, never mind understand the details of a business arrangement. So maybe that first ultrasound was super silent and she didn’t remember.