We got to a point where we taped the final scenes, and the footage was labeled and stored. All too soon we were at the wrap party. We rented Andy’s for the occasion, and, for the first time in the three months that we had been there, I finally saw the inside of the café.
It was a quaint setup and created a cozy atmosphere. I watched Helen in action in the kitchen through the doors each time they swung open. I felt a nudge in my side at one point during the night.
“I suggest you change your seat to one where you can’t see the kitchen if you don’t want everyone to know about you two.” Vivian widened her eyes in mock innocence.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play cute, Scott. You know damn well what I’m talking about with you and Helen. I’ve been on to you two from day one, you know.”
I looked at her, and she looked back. I dropped my eyes. Whenever I was guilty, I could never win a staring contest with Vivian.
“How did you know?”
“How long have I been working for you, Scott? How many women have I seen you go through? Give me some credit, why don’t you. I know your modus operandi by now. I know when you’re on the hunt. I know when you’ve pounced, and I know when you’ve conquered. But there is something different about Helen, isn’t there.”
I looked back up. “I just can’t put my finger on it…”
“And you don’t have to. At least not now. Just remember what I said. If you hurt her…” she picked up her dinner knife, pointed it at my crotch, and mimicked a slicing motion. I chuckled.
“Yes, ma’am.”
For the rest of the night, I made a concerted effort to keep my eyes off Helen. As the night drew to a close, I looked ahead to the next two days that it would take for us to vacate the little town. I realized, with a start, that I did not want to leave Creek Town. Leaving Creek Town would mean leaving Helen. That was not something I was ready to do.
As per protocol, I went through the motions of the speeches and the bloopers reels. We accepted all the accolades the director and producer heaped on the team. But my thoughts were on the goodbyes I would have to bid in two days. Two days! My face must have shown some train of thought, and I felt a nudge in my side.
“Chin up, dear. You’ve never been one to wear your emotions on your sleeve, and I don’t expect you to start now. You do know that you have nothing running back to New York to do, right?”
“Right.”
“So, let’s do the math. If you have nothing running back to New York for, it means that you may stay longer – here, in Creek Town, with Helen, without any of us to cramp your style.”
“Who says Helen wants me staying in Creek Town after you all leave?”
“The way she has been pressed up against the door staring at you is a fair indication that she doesn’t want you to leave any more than you want to go. So how long should I extend your stay? One week? Two?”
“A month should be fine. I’ll figure things out after that.”
“A month it is.”
Two mornings later, I watched the team board the chartered flight back to New York, and wherever the rest of them were going. As soon as the plane taxied down the runway, I headed to the parking lot. I jumped into the jeep Vivian had rented for me and made a beeline for Helen’s place. She had taken a rare day off and was waiting for me. My heart pounded when I saw her car in the parking lot. I raced up the stairs and down the corridor. I used the key she had given me. As soon as the door opened, she was in my arms. We were in her bed in record time, and I soon had her screaming my name.
We came up for air long enough to look for food. It was the next morning before I got back to the hotel. Once we had gotten past the fact that we no longer had to sneak around because of my colleagues, we tested the waters somewhat. We still maintained our privacy, so apart from my nosy assistant, she had not told her family and friends about us. I didn’t mind. The fewer folks who knew, the better.
We spent the Fourth of July holiday separately. It was a big day at the café, so I wandered around the town, enjoying the festivities. I was glad that I was still not recognized, and therefore able to move around freely. I became antsy as the day drew to an end. I drove over to her apartment at about eight p.m. She was due home around eleven. I changed the sheets then sat down to wait patiently, dozing off several times. It seemed like eons later that I heard the door opening. I sat up. I watched as she wearily dropped her purse on the floor beside the couch and then slipped off her shoes. I waited until she turned on the light before making my presence known.
“Happy Independence.”
She almost jumped out of her skin. “Shit! You scared the heck out of me!”
I held out my hand to her. “I’m sorry, baby.” She came to me, and I pulled her down to sit on my lap. I wrapped my arms around her as she snuggled into my chest. I stroked her hair softly, and she sighed.
“Had a rough day?”
She nodded. “I’ve never worked so hard in my life. I’m so tired. I could fall asleep right here and not care.”
I chuckled. “Well, you wouldn’t hear any complaints from me.” I sat stroking her hair for a while. I sensed that she was relaxed. Too relaxed almost. I stirred slightly, and she shifted.
“Let’s get you into the shower. Do you still have tomorrow morning off?”
She nodded. I eased my body from underneath her and stood. I swung her into my arms and headed to the bathroom. Tenderly I undressed her, dropping her clothes into the hamper by the door. I undressed as well, then propelled her into the shower. I adjusted the force of the spray and the temperature and pulled her body to mine. She wrapped her arms around my waist and slumped against me as I wet and lathered her hair with the peppermint shampoo she seemed to favor. She sighed softly as my fingers massaged her scalp. I rinsed the suds out then washed again. I played with her curls for a while before rinsing her hair. Then I applied the conditioner. I used the large tooth comb to untangle her hair before rinsing. I braided her hair into two pigtails then tied them on top of her head to keep them out of the way. She raised her head and touched her wet hair.
“You can braid?”
“Boy Scout training. A scout never forgets.”
I squeezed a generous dollop of soap onto a washcloth and proceeded to bathe her as I would a child. I took care not to attempt to arouse her when I touched certain areas. I could sense she was not up to anything tonight. I quickly washed my body then rinsed us both. She closed her eyes and turned her body obediently, a tiny smile on her lips.
I stepped out and wrapped a small towel around my waist, then grabbed a bigger one and opened it out to her. She stepped into it, and I swept her up into my arms. I walked to the bed and lowered her slowly. Carefully I dried her then placed it under her head. I rummaged in her drawer for one of the oversized t-shirts she liked.
“Roll over, baby.” She did without question. I retrieved the comb then sat on the edge of the bed. I undid her braids and proceeded to dry her hair. I ran the comb through it to aid the drying process. I listened as her breathing grew even as she fell asleep. I continued to comb her hair until it lay in smooth waves around her head on the pillow. I stood and pulled the sheets up around her shoulders before turning off the lights. I flicked my towel off and got in on the other side of the bed. Gently, I pulled her into my arms. She shifted only slightly as I placed her head on my chest. I brushed my lips against her forehead and closed my eyes. My last waking thought was: I could get used to this.
Chapter 13 – Helen
“Right there! Oh, Scott! You’re touching something RIGHT THERE!” My body tensed even as he continued to thrust deep into me. I felt as if he was treating my pussy to the experience of a lifetime. I threw my head back as my hands scrabbled to grip his sweat-drenched torso. I pressed up into his thrusts as they became faster and deeper. I cried out hoarsely as lights seemed to flash behind my tightly closed lids. It always seems as if each climax he took me to was better than the last.<
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My pussy clenched as my body shuddered. He thrust one last time before burying his face in my hair. He groaned deep in his throat as I felt his cock twitch and spasm deep inside me. I held him to me as his body trembled above me. His chest heaved against mine as we both fought to normalize our breathing.
He raised his head long enough to find my lips. His fingers intertwined with mine above my head even as his tongue stroked mine gently. I felt my emotions bubble up within me, and a slight sense of panic overtook me. I knew. And I was powerless to deny it. I had gone and fallen in love with Scott Dawson.
I had felt hints of becoming attached to him since we had taken our relationship to the next level, but I had tried to keep my heart separate. I had to remember who Scott was and the reputation he had. I had also to remember that at some point, he would return to New York, and that would be the end of us if I were to follow his track record. From the beginning, he kept insisting that I was different. But I was a realist, and so I told myself it was just a fling.
But when I had awakened on July fifth to find my hair braided and breakfast on the table, the wall around my heart cracked a little. When I walked into my guest room and saw him placing my freshly ironed chef jacket into a travel bag, that blew the wall to smithereens. I went into shock mode for the rest of the day as I came to grips with the fact that I loved Scott. But that was just one part of the equation. I had to also come to grips with the fact that he might not reciprocate my feelings.
He rolled us over so that I was on top. It was a favorite position of his just after we had finished making love. I eased my body away from his to snuggle into his side. My lips trailed down to his chest, and he breathed deeply. I felt him nuzzle my temple as he gently stroked my arm. His breathing evened out, and I closed my eyes.
The steady rise and fall of his chest was a sign that he had fallen asleep. But somehow I could not doze off as I usually did. It had become more difficult each time, as the days were winding down. He had only two weeks remaining of his extended stay. If I was feeling like this now, how would I feel when he left?
Slowly I raised my head to look at him. He did not budge. Quietly I slipped out of his embrace and pulled the sheet up to his waist. I fumbled for a t-shirt and tiptoed to the kitchen in my bare feet. The clock above the stove showed that it was just a few minutes after midnight. Whenever I could not sleep, I always found solace in the kitchen.
My stomach felt uneasy, and I reached for a pack of saltine crackers I had in the biscuit tin on the counter. I pulled out one of my favorite cookbooks as I nibbled. Lately, I had been playing with the idea of using some old recipes. But I would put a modern twist to them with either the method or the ingredients. From time to time, customers had made unusual requests because of dietary restrictions. I had discussed with the staff the possibility of offering vegetarian options as well as using ingredients as alternatives for persons with food allergies. Some medical conditions had also come to mind.
I flipped to the back of the book that had a selection of recipes for special diets. I usually found them quite dull. But with our current thought process, I began thinking of ways to add some pizazz to these otherwise mundane recipes. I sat flipping and nibbling. When I finished eating the pack of crackers, a yawn escaped out of nowhere. Just as I was about to close the book, a line caught my eye: when expecting.
Curious, I turned the page. I had forgotten about this section altogether. It was even more boring than the vegetarian or medical conditions chapter. Slowly I flipped the pages, reading each recipe. I made mental notes of some ingredients that we could change out of some recipes.
As I came to the end of the chapter, there were a few pages with things to remember when cooking for a pregnant woman. I skimmed the first page and was about to turn when two phrases drew my attention: first trimester…crackers.
I looked at the empty cracker packet on the counter. Then I looked back at the book. I went back to the beginning.
The recipes listed in the section before may seem bland and dull. The temptation to tweak them may arise. But it is prudent to remember that in the first trimester, everything needs to have the flavor of crackers. That trimester is a time when the woman’s body is adjusting to the new life within. A part of this adjustment is within her taste buds. And so, her favorite meals may become unpalatable and induce nausea.
As it pertains to nausea, the degree varies from one pregnancy to another. Some women will not be able to get out of bed without rushing to the bathroom. Others may feel just a sense of unsettledness that only bland flavors can soothe. Being nauseous is also not strictly in the mornings, but can occur at any given time of day or night…
I could not read any further. I felt as if a black hole had opened in my mind. My thoughts began to race and stumble over each other. I kept looking at the empty packet. Nausea. Crackers. I struggled to remember what my eating pattern had been like for the past few days. I opened the biscuit tin to look at the packets of crackers I had picked up at the grocery the week before. How long had it been since I had switched to these crackers? Last week? The week before?
My heart felt as if it was pounding out of my chest. A fog covered my brain and obscured my thoughts. Each time I tried to bring some detail back to mind, it evaded me.
Think, Helen, think. Breathe. And think. When was your last period?
I slid off the stool and tiptoed to the bathroom. I opened the medicine chest and took out the small calendar I kept with my birth control pills. It seemed as if it had been some time since I opened it. All I had been doing was popping the pills.
Please be marked for June. Please be marked for June. Please be marked for June.
Slowly I opened the booklet. I checked each month. There were five red circles per month. I took deep breaths as I turned the pages.
January…February…March…April…May…June…June?...
June was empty. I felt a sense of panic take hold of me as I skipped back to May. My last period was the third week of May. I had a twenty-eight-day cycle. My period should have come at least the third week of June. It was now the middle of July. The middle of July! I was three weeks overdue.
How could I have missed it? All my life, I had been as regular as clockwork. When I had started having sex, I had done the responsible thing and gotten on birth control tablets. I took them without fail. How had I not noticed that when I had finished one pack and started the other that there had not been a period in between them? Had I become so caught up in Scott that I was glad for the freedom to have sex uninterrupted by my period?
There’s got to be an explanation. Maybe you just forgot to mark it. Check your sanitary supplies. Yes. That’s precisely it. You forgot to mark it.
I opened the cupboard where I kept my sanitary napkins. I stared in horror at the two packs of napkins there. Each month I automatically bought a box. If there were two packs there, it must mean that the one before had not been used.
Crisis level panic started to invade my system. It felt as if the walls were closing in on me. Every excuse I tried to think of, was dashed to pieces in the face of all the evidence. And with the reasons gone, there was only one possible explanation for the missed period, the upset stomach, the change in appetite: I was pregnant.
Chapter 14 – Helen
I paced the floor, nervously. I watched as the second hand of the clock made the slowest revolution ever. Only a minute had passed. I dropped into the couch and held my head in my hands. Four more to go. It felt like a lifetime as I sat watching the clock. For the first time in my life, I finally understood the nerves that took over when waiting to see the preliminary results. It all depended on one's state of mine. Mine was currently nothing but a muddle. Deep down, I knew the result I wanted. But also deep down, I knew the outcome it would probably be. The issue was the two were on opposing sides, hence my problem.
I heard the five-minute timer go off. Slowly I got up and went to the bathroom. I stood at the door, looking at the little pieces of plastic
on the counter. I had purchased five different brands, just to make sure. With a pounding heart, I picked up the first one. My vision blurred as I saw the horizontal line – intersected by a vertical one. My heart sank as a wave of despair swept over me. By the time I had gotten to the fourth test and seen the same result, the tears came coursing down my cheeks. I couldn’t believe it. I was pregnant. Pregnant. And for a man who had no interest in having children. What was I going to do?
Tests can be wrong.
But five of them?
Tests can be wrong!
I dragged myself back to the living room. I picked up the telephone book and absentmindedly flipped through the physician’s section. I would have to get an official diagnosis before I accepted that it was so. I pulled up my blouse and looked at my stomach. Was that a paunch? I couldn’t be that far along already! I took a deep breath, knowing I was overreacting. My stomach was still flat and showed no signs of anything there. But in a few weeks, it would start to protrude.
I moved through the apartment, preparing myself for bed. Scott was at his hotel. This was one of the rare nights he had opted not to come over, as he was expecting a conference call from New York. I was grateful. When he had left this morning, I had breathed a sigh of relief. I had barely slept last night after my cookbook revelation. Some time to myself was needed and appreciated in light of these developments. I would make an appointment at the clinic first thing in the morning. Our family doctor was not an option. I needed privacy at all costs.
I showered and put on one of my favorite t-shirts. As I crept into bed, recalled that only twenty-four hours before I had been in Scott’s arms, both of us crying out in ecstasy. It was amazing how things could change in only a few hours!
I sighed as I pulled up the covers. My hands rested lightly on my stomach. If I was pregnant, there were a lot of things that I would have to do in the coming weeks and months. I thought about the fact that Scott would be leaving in less than two weeks. Would I ever see him again? If yes, when? Would I keep the child a secret and make him believe it was someone else’s? Would I tell him it was his? My mind wandered in and out of thought until my weary body fell into a fitful sleep.
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