Keeping Her

by Cora Carmack

  Her eyes were wide and glassy, and I didn’t know if that look was because of something I said, or just the long day getting to her again.

  She said, “It’s funny how children end up being so different from their parents.”

  “It’s funny how we managed to grow into reasonable ­people despite our crazy parents.”

  She swallowed and laughed once. “Right. How does that happen?”

  I pulled her into my arms, laying my cheek against her head. Her hair smelled sweet and calming, like lavender.

  “Let’s go out tomorrow. I’ll show you around the city. I just need a break from this house.”

  “Sure. That sounds great. I need to run to the store anyway. I forgot a few things.”

  I kissed her forehead. “Like what? We might have whatever it is.”

  She pulled back. “Oh, it’s nothing important. Just some little things.”

  She went to her suitcase on the floor and bent to gather her pajamas.

  I stepped up behind her. “You sure you’re not feeling sick anymore?”

  “No, I’m fine,” she called over her shoulder. “I just had a moment, that’s all.”

  “Good.” I swept an arm under her legs and pulled her up into my arms. “Because I’m pretty awake. But I’ve got an idea of how to tire myself out.”

  She dropped the clothes she’d picked up to clutch my shoulders, and her pretty little mouth formed a circle. That was all it took. No matter that there were hundreds of ­people downstairs, and we were in my parents’ house. I wanted her as badly as I ever had.

  I walked her toward the bed and she said, “Garrick! The ­people downstairs.”

  “Won’t hear a thing unless you plan on screaming my name. In which case, it might be worth it.”

  She swatted my shoulder, and I deposited her on the bed.

  “What if your mother comes upstairs?”

  I knelt at the foot of the bed and slipped off her shoes.

  “Then we’ll have another awkward occurrence to add to our repertoire.”

  “That’s not even remotely funny, Garrick.”

  I kissed the inside of her knee and said, “Do you see me laughing?”

  She swallowed, and her eyes followed my hands as I reached for her. Her cotton dress was stretchy, and I slipped the straps down over her shoulders easily. It fell around her waist, revealing more skin to me. She wore a lacy blue bra that looked sweet and innocent, and damn if that kind of thing didn’t always do me in.

  “Do you have any idea how hot it is to think of having you here in my old room?” She shook her head, but her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and I think she knew exactly what I meant. “It reminds me of last year.” How much it had fucked with my brain to think of her as a student, and how very little it did to deter my feelings for her. If anything, I wanted her more. “Every class I was so tempted to ask you to stay after everyone left. Even though your friends were outside and anyone could have walked in, all I wanted to do was touch you. Taste you.”

  Her eyes were large and dark, and her breath hitched. I kissed the side of her knee again and ran my hands up her thighs to the hem of her dress.

  She asked, “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because that wouldn’t have been fair of me. So I had to settle for my imagination.”

  Thank God I didn’t have to do that anymore.

  “And what did you imagine?”

  I leaned over her and laid her back against the bed. Her arms stretched out across the mattress, and she looked up at me with wide, apprehensive eyes. It reminded me so much of the night we met, and all my blood rushed south so quickly that black spots dotted my vision.

  I slipped my hands under her dress and said, “I imagined a lot of things. I thought about having you against the wall back behind the curtains.” She closed her eyes and fisted the blankets in her hands. “I saw you in that skirt you wore the first day of school with your legs around my waist.”

  I hooked my fingers around her underwear and slid them down her gorgeous legs. “I wanted you in every seat in the audience.” She made a low noise and tried to sit up, but I braced a hand on her stomach to hold her in place. “I wanted you in every seat so that you wouldn’t be able to sit anywhere in that theatre without thinking about me.”

  “That was already true.”

  I smiled. “Good to know.”

  She laid both of her hands over mine on her stomach, and held my hand tighter against her for a second. She said, her voice small and quiet, “I love you so much.”

  I stood and leaned over her so that I could see her face. She blinked a few times, and I couldn’t read her expression. It was sad and happy and confusing, and she had never had this kind of response in bed before.

  I didn’t know what was going on, but I could feel the panic rising under my skin, at the back of my throat, in the lining of my lungs.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She shook her head until her expression cleared, and then smiled. “Yeah . . . just thinking about the future.”

  My heart jerked in my chest, and I tried to explain away the sadness and the fear I saw in her eyes. They didn’t have to mean she was having doubts. They could mean a thousand other things. But for the life of me, I couldn’t conjure one more possibility.

  I dropped a kiss on her lips and said, “I did promise you forever. That’s a lot of future.”

  She nodded, and then after a too long moment she smiled. “I’m sorry. But do you think we can . . . just go to sleep? I’m sorry. I know I said I was fine, but I’m feeling a little off after all.”

  I took a deep breath and tried not to read too much into this. She’d been sick. It didn’t have to mean anything else. But damn it, now I couldn’t think about anything else.

  As calmly as I could I brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. “Of course. Can I get you something? Water? Medicine?”

  She swallowed and shook her head. “I think . . . I think I just need some sleep.”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  I folded down the blankets, and she slid between the sheets, still only half covered by her dress. I took another deep breath that did absolutely nothing to relieve the pressure in my jeans or the pressure in my head.

  I kissed her cheek one more time.

  “I love you,” I said, slowly, deliberately. I needed her to hear that through whatever noise might be happening in her head. “Get some sleep. I’m just going to go take a quick shower.”

  “I’m sorry,” she called again as I walked away.

  “No need to be sorry, love.”

  Unless she was saying sorry for something else, something she hadn’t said.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” she said.

  “Also not necessary, though I do like the sound of that.”

  She pulled the blankets up to her neck, settling back on the pillow. I switched off the lights and said, “Good night, Bliss.”

  Then I ended our roller coaster of a day with an ice-­cold shower and too many worries to count.

  “WAIT, WAIT! JUST one more!”

  “Bliss, there are children waiting.”

  And they probably hated us, but I was just so glad to see her smiling that I didn’t care.

  “Yeah, well, they all just jumped on the bandwagon. Most of them weren’t alive when I read Harry Potter for the first time.”

  I turned to the Canadian family behind me and said, “I’m so sorry. This is the last one, I promise.” Then I took one more picture of Bliss pretending to push the luggage cart through the wall at the Platform 9¾ monument at King’s Cross Station.

  A little boy stuck his tongue out at Bliss as we left. I pulled her away before she could follow suit.

  “That kid better watch it. I’m totally a Slytherin.”

  I shook my head,
smiling.

  “Love, I’m going to need you to pull back on the crazy a bit.”

  “You’re right. Realistically, I’m a Ravenclaw.”

  I laughed. Even when I didn’t quite get her, I loved her. Probably because I didn’t get her. She knew who she was, and she didn’t ever compromise that. Not even for me.

  I chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m just imagining you with kids someday. You’ll probably end up fighting them to play with the toys.”

  I didn’t notice that she’d stopped walking until I went to round the corner, and she wasn’t beside me. I turned and she was still standing a few feet back.

  “I was joking, love.”

  She crossed her arms over her middle and shrugged. “I know that.”

  “Then why do you look so freaked out?”

  “I just didn’t realize you thought about stuff like that.”

  Oh God. The last thing I needed on this already stressful trip was to scare her off with talk of kids, not when she seemed mostly back to normal today. I could be really thick sometimes.

  I laid my arm across her shoulders and said, “Whatever thoughts are unspooling in your mind, stop them. I’ve still got a lot to show you, and I was only having a laugh.”

  “Right, where to next?”

  “Well, we’ve seen the Globe.”

  I felt her relax beside me as we walked, and she said, “You mean the replica of the Globe.”

  “Close enough. We’ve done Big Ben, the Parliament, the Tower. What about the Eye?” I asked.

  “Is that the giant Ferris wheel thing?” I nodded. “Yes, let’s do that!”

  Just spending the day with Bliss and introducing her to my old city was enough to erase some of the messiness of last night, to erase some of my worries. She really must have just needed sleep because this morning, she was as perfect as ever.

  “Can we stop by a store first?” she asked. “A pharmacy? I just wanted to get something in case I start feeling sick again.”

  “Of course,” I kissed her temple, and we headed for the tube that would take us to the other side of the city.

  10

  Bliss

  WE STOPPED AT a small store that was just a little bigger than a convenience store. It had food and toiletries and a random assortment of items, but the pharmacy in back was my concern.

  “Would you mind grabbing me a drink?” I asked. “I’m going to run to the bathroom, grab that medicine, and I’ll meet you back up here.”

  I didn’t wait for Garrick to agree before I turned to walk away. I headed for the pharmacy at a stroll, glancing behind me to see when he was no longer looking. When he turned, I picked up the pace and began scouring the shelves for pregnancy tests. It took me three tries to find the right aisle, and then all I could do was just stare at the display.

  Why did there have to be so many?

  There were brand names and off brands, digital and sticks and cups, one lines and two lines and plus signs and the signs of the apocalypse.

  And oh God, why was this so terrifying?

  Maybe I should just get one of each.

  Then I looked at the price.

  Eh . . . probably just one would do for now.

  I grabbed the stick one with the plus sign, and bolted for the pharmacy counter at the back. An Indian guy in glasses was typing away at the computer.

  “Excuse me?” He looked up. “Can I check out here?”

  “No ma’am. Cashier is up front.”

  Fabulous.

  I grabbed a ­couple other things. Ibuprofen and sunscreen and a box of tampons (wishful thinking). I gathered all the items in my arms, hiding the pregnancy test behind them all. Then I went to the front to meet Garrick.

  He stood holding a bottle of Coke, smiling and perfect, and God, I wanted to tell him. But his comment about kids earlier had my head all twisted. I’d thought about telling him then, but then he’d been so insistent that it was a joke that I started to worry that he would freak out. I mean, why wouldn’t he? We’d only been together a year. We were just about to get married. There were probably prison cells roomier than our apartment.

  I waited until it was our turn to check out and then I turned to him and said, “Oh honey, I’m sorry. Would you mind switching that out for a water instead? Or maybe juice? I just think that would be better for my stomach.”

  As soon as he was gone, I dumped all of my things on the counter and thrust the pregnancy test at the cashier.

  “Can you ring this up first?”

  The girl on the register was blond, couldn’t be much older than sixteen, and she laughed at me. Actually laughed at me.

  “Look, I realize this is crazy. But please. Just do it quick.”

  She shrugged and said, “He’s going to notice sooner or later.”

  I so did not need attitude right now.

  She scanned the test, and I shoved it in my purse just as Garrick came around the corner. He set the water on the counter, and then scanned my things.

  “I thought you were getting medicine?”

  Excuse me, sassy checkout girl, could I borrow your register for a moment to smash against my face?

  I picked up the bottle of ibuprofen and shook it.

  “I’ve been having headaches, and I think that’s what caused the nausea.”

  The girl snickered when I said nausea. It probably didn’t bode well for my future as a mother that I really wanted to punch this teenager.

  Garrick took the bag from her as I paid and carried it outside for me. On the sidewalk, he said, “You could have told me. I’m not that naive.”

  I choked on the sip of water I had just taken and said, “What?”

  He held up the bag, and I could see the box of tampons through the semi-­transparent plastic. “This? The painkillers? You could have just said you were having your monthly.”

  Only I could suffer the humiliation of discussing a nonexistent period with my boyfriend.

  “Oh, I’m not. No, these are just . . .” I totally blanked. “It was on sale.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “So you decided to buy it now?”

  I was going to look into a career as a mime. Because that appeared to be the only way I was going to stop saying stupid things.

  I took the shopping bag back and stuffed it in my giant purse. “How close are we to this Eye thing?” I asked.

  We turned a corner, and he pointed up ahead to a giant white Ferris wheel. “Very close.”

  Glad for the change in subject, I listened to him explain that the Eye had been built while he was in school, and that on New Year’s they actually fired off fireworks from the Eye itself. He explained that we’d board one of the pods while the structure was still moving, albeit very slowly.

  We had to wait in line for a little while, but since it was a weekday it wasn’t too bad. With our fingers laced together, we stepped to the front of the line, the first ­people to board the next pod.

  Another ten to fifteen ­people boarded with us, and we found a spot at the window that would give us a good vantage point as the wheel continued its slow rotation upward. Garrick said one revolution was about thirty minutes, so I held on to the bar and he wrapped his arms around my waist. He placed his cheek against mine, and together we watched the city become smaller and smaller as we were pulled up into the sky.

  The Thames twisted along beside us, steeples and skyscrapers punctured the clear blue day, and little dots of ­people moved below us in the distance. Up here they looked remarkably small, and there were so many. Some were in line for the Eye, others hustled along the busy streets. I could imagine each one of them wrapped up in their thoughts, contemplating their dreams, falling in love, getting news that changed their entire world.

  In life, it’s so easy to get tunnel vision, to imagin
e this world is a movie set and your story—­what you see through your eyes and think with your brain and feel with your heart—­is the only thing that matters. But the world was so much bigger than that. Life was so much bigger than that. Sometimes, I couldn’t understand how it could hold all of us, all of the hope and hurt of humanity.

  It was just as remarkable to think about the fact that at this very second, a new life could be forming inside of me. I didn’t understand how I could hold that, either, how I could have another person who would be entirely dependent on me. The camera of my life was very focused. There was Garrick, of course, but both of us were concentrated on our careers, on establishing ourselves. But if we had a baby that would change everything for both of us. Our lens would have to refocus, adjust. It couldn’t just be about us anymore.

  I could feel the warmth of Garrick’s hand against my belly through my thin shirt, and thought . . . the responsibility wouldn’t be entirely on me. Yes, Garrick was a guy, and yes, most of them were terrified of commitment and babies and all those kinds of things. But he was different. This was a man that would hold my bag of tampons without any complaint, a man that didn’t get angry when I stopped him right before sex, and a man that loved me and cherished me despite all my oddities and issues.

  He interrupted my thoughts to point out the window. “Over there, that’s where we were this morning. That’s the church we walked by. And that way is my parents’ place. You can also see the primary school I attended there. Graham and I were in trouble almost every day. Our mums threatened to send us both to boarding school.”

  It was the worst transition in the history of the world, but I looked over my shoulder at him and blurted out, “I bought a pregnancy test.”

  “What?” He didn’t say it like he was shocked or horrified. More like when someone just didn’t quite hear what you said.

  So I continued, “At the pharmacy. I was being weird and sending you off to get drinks because I was buying a pregnancy test, and I was scared to tell you.”