by R. C. Martin
A sad smile graces his lips and he nods his understanding. “I believe you.” Satisfied with his response, I return to my task. “She’s stronger than I remember. She’s always been unapologetically outspoken, but now…I can see that you make her stronger.”
I take a second to consider what he’s said. I never really looked at Daphne that way before. To me, she’s always been strong and brave. Of course she has her moments—don’t we all?—but she’s always been the one I could lean on; she’s always been the one to push and challenge me. “I think it’s her that makes me stronger.”
“Then you’re a team. That’s good. Don’t let that go.” I glance up at him, wanting him to know that I hear him before I screw the lids back onto their jars.“Her mother—” He starts and then he stops. “Don’t count her out just yet, okay? The battle wounds that those two inflicted on each other four years ago, they never healed. Today—today she was confronted with the reality of that truth. Maybe it was the reality check she needed. We. The reality check we needed. What I’m trying to say is—we’re here. We’d like to be here. We’ll try.”
I hear it when Mrs. Holloway enters the kitchen and I look over at her as she braces herself against the doorframe. “I’m sorry. I don’t know you. It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions.”
Before I have a chance to speak, I feel Daphne’s hand glide down my back and slide around my waist. I put the two halves of the sandwich together before I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her close. “You alright?” I ask, my lips grazing her forehead.
“Yeah,” she whispers huskily, her weak voice evidence of the tears she cried while she was tucked away in the bathroom. “I want to go home.”
“Okay.”
“Daphne,” her mother starts to speak. “I’m sorry.”
I look down at my girl, wondering what’s going on inside of her head right now; curious as to what she’ll say next. I assume her mother’s apology doesn’t mean much to her in this moment. Her heart is too fragile to piece back together with two little words. What she needed today, she didn’t get. As she clings to me, I can feel the depth of her disappointment.
“Rome!” she calls.
“Yeah?” he replies.
“Can we go?”
“Yeah. Give us a couple minutes?”
“We’ll meet you outside.” She pulls away from me long enough to wrap her sandwich in a paper towel and address her parents. “I love you, anyway,” she says before taking my hand. “We’ll see you.”
As we walk away, I look back at Mr. Holloway. I nod, he does the same, and I know this isn’t the end. We’ll meet again. For Daphne. For the baby…
For all of us.
November 2015
I wake up before the alarm clock sounds, too excited for any dream state. I’ve been looking forward to this day for weeks now. I smile when I open my eyes and see my wife sound asleep. It’s been twelve weeks since we first surrendered to the love we both harbor for each other. Twelve weeks since we gave up the fight against what was destined to be. Twelve weeks.
It’s been eight weeks since we got married. Sometimes, I catch myself thinking back, in awe of how we got here. It amazes me that this is my life; that I know this much love, that I know this much happiness, and that Daphne and I are more than we ever dared to imagine we could be. I’m learning that these are reasons to thank God.
I know it’s cold outside, that I should let Daphne stay wrapped up under the blanket until it’s time for us to get out of bed, but I can’t help myself. I want to see it. Carefully, I uncover her, pushing the sheets down past her narrow hips. Then I slowly inch up my t-shirt, sliding it until it rests around her slim waist. I gaze at her proudly, in love with the way her body has already started to change. When I rest my hand on the small bump that’s starting to protrude, she begins to stir.
Since Daphne’s so tiny, we’ve been able to see her progress since nine weeks. The cooler weather has given her an excuse to dress in sweaters and hoodies, where she can hide evidence of Little Worm. Even still, I’m surprised no one has figured it out yet. Surprised and excited—it’ll make telling everyone that much sweeter.
When I lean down to kiss her belly, she giggles and runs her fingers through my hair. “Is this going to be our new morning ritual? I seem to recall this exact wake up call yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that.”
I smile and kiss her again. “Maybe.”
“Such a softy,” she says mockingly.
“Only with you,” I reply, crawling on top of her. She grins at me as she circles her legs around my hips. “And you love it.”
“I do,” she agrees with a nod. “Now, does your wife get a kiss too? Or just your baby?” I chuckle as I lower my mouth to meet hers. I make it a good one, kissing her slowly and deeply. “Mmm,” she hums when I pull away. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Since you woke me up, let’s take a shower. If we hurry, you can take me to breakfast before we head into the shop. I’m suddenly craving a giant blueberry muffin.” Her eyes light up with the suggestion and I know there’s no way I can deny her.
“Dottie’s it is,” I say as I hop out of bed to go start the shower.
We’re in and out in a half hour, both of us too anxious to linger. She makes quick work of her makeup and pulls her growing locks back into a ponytail as I get dressed. I head to my drawing table to retrieve what I need for the day and when I come out, I see she’s sporting her little bump boldly. She’s got on a pair of dark pink leggings with some sort of triangle printed pattern. She’s mismatched it with a long gray tank top, which hugs her tightly, and a thick, hooded cream cardigan with cheetah spots. Only Daphne could make that outfit work. She looks perfect. She smiles at me as she pulls the flaps of her sweater behind her and shows off her profile.
“Do I look fat?”
“More like really, really full. A carb-loaded breakfast might help,” I tease.
She laughs as she starts heading for the bathroom. “I’m almost ready. Just need my earrings and my boots and then we can go.”
I wish I could articulate how good it is to see her so happy. After our trip to Denver, she was in a fog for a couple of weeks. I remember the rest of that weekend like it was yesterday. She cried most of the ride home. As soon as we walked into the house, she started taking off all of her clothes—dropping them on the floor like she was in a daze. She went straight to the bathroom to draw a steaming hot bath. When I followed her to make sure she didn’t need anything, she proceeded to take my clothes off, too. Without a word, she grabbed my hand and we both got in the water.
We didn’t talk; not about anything. She didn’t want to and I didn’t press. We just soaked while she dozed in my arms. When the water grew cold, we filled it back up with hot water and stayed in a little while longer. We were so fucking wrinkly when we got out, it was comical. Only I laughed. She just dried off and got into bed. She napped on and off for the rest of the day. Her silence was so unnerving, I had to call Logan. I’d never seen her so shut down before. Both Logan and Roman assured me she’d snap out of it—I just had to wait it out.
That night, when I climbed into bed, she apologized for disappearing and then told me she wanted us to make love. I hesitated just long enough for her to insist. It turned out to be exactly what both of us needed. More, even. It was so damn good, I look forward to the challenge of topping it.
The whole next day was pretty good, too. Our friends went crazy over the news that we’d gotten hitched without them knowing. Apparently, our timing was perfect for Harvey and Grace, who won a bet based on how long it would take before we tied the knot. Hanging out for the afternoon was a great distraction for Daphne and she seemed fine. Then Monday came and the phantom pain of old fights and past loss seemed to come with it. It was like she had to muddle her way through all that had taken her so long to get over after her first pregnancy.
I never imagined that our first couple weeks of marriage would
be so…heavy, but we got through it. She claims that she couldn’t have done it without me, but it was more than me. It was us. Us, cuddled together on the couch, talking about what we hope our future will look like. Us, being honest with one another about what we’re afraid of. Us, sharing showers while we bantered over the best baby names. Us, taking pictures and measurements of her growing belly, getting excited over a fraction of an inch.
Us—we got through it because we’re us.
“Hey, Wolfy, did Crystal ever get back to you about that convention?” asks Daphne as she comes from the bathroom and heads for the closet.
Crystal. With the whirlwind of my life as I know it, it was a few weeks before I got around to reaching out to her after her surprise visit. It’s been kind of nice talking to her again. It’s nothing like it was before, mostly a text here and there, but there’s this convention thing she’s going to for work in a couple weeks down in Loveland. It’s only a half an hour drive from here and I thought it would be a good chance for Daphne to meet her—for real, this time. Not to mention, when Crystal caught wind that I’m calling myself a husband these days, she practically demanded that we make it happen.
“Yeah. It’s not this coming Monday but the Monday after. She’ll be here for three days and she said she’d be free for dinner any of those nights.”
“Perfect. We’ve got plenty of time to charge your phone before then.”
“Ha. Ha,” I mutter lamely.
She giggles as she grabs her bag and her coat and then takes my hand. “Just teasing,” she says, reaching up to kiss my cheek. “I’m ready. Let’s go. We’re starving—oh, wait, do you have it?”
“Of course I do,” I answer with a grin. “Come on.”
When we get into town we don’t have much time to eat. That doesn’t turn out to be a problem. Daphne wasn’t far from exaggerating how hungry she was. She devours her muffin in five minutes and then orders another to go. We’re the first to arrive at the shop, since I’m the opener today, and she helps me go through my usual morning routine. The first appointment in the book is at eleven. Pete has someone coming in for a double nipple piercing.
Ouch. No, thanks.
As for me, I don’t have anything until later this afternoon. I did that on purpose. Today, I’m Harvey’s first appointment. He doesn’t know it’s me. I penciled in a fake name and phone number for his twelve o’clock spot. It’s all part of our plan.
“Holly Wayne?” Daphne laughs as she eyes today’s schedule and perches herself in the stool behind the front counter. “I’m impressed with your clever choice of name. You know, I much prefer you as a man, but you probably wouldn’t look half bad as a woman—with those eyes and your great cheekbones,” she quips.
“You’re such a comedian this morning,” I reply as I come up behind her. I rest my chin on her shoulder and slide my arms around her waist. “But maybe you’re right,” I whisper. “There might be a little girl in here who looks just like me.”
“If we have a girl and she comes out with your eyes, you’re buying a gun. A big, fat shotgun that will scare away all the losers that will inevitably want to get inside of her pants. Deal?”
“Hell, yeah. I don’t care what color her eyes are.”
She hums a laugh and pulls my arms around her tighter. This is how Pete and Coder find us when they walk into the shop a few minutes later. Coder’s in the middle of a story, detailing the wild night he had, and he starts over as soon as his audience of one turns into an audience of three. Listening to his crazy escapades makes me realize how far behind me those days are. It’s not simply the length of time it’s been since I’ve stopped going out to find a quick lay, it’s also the promise that I’ll never have to go looking again. Something tells me I won’t miss the hunt. Not even a little bit.
When Willow shows up just before eleven, I duck out to make a bank run. I’m happy for the distraction, knowing it’ll help pass the time. I’m out for forty minutes and when I get back, I notice Grace and Harvey have arrived.
Good. The gang’s all here.
Grace is with Daphne behind the counter and they both smile at me when I walk in. “Hey there,” says Grace, reaching for the bank bag. I hand it to her and she does her thing with the register. “Daphne and I were just talking about how the bosses should treat the office to lunch today.”
“Is that right?” I say with a smirk, amused that Daphne’s already thinking about food again. Her appetite has gotten noticeably bigger over the last few days.
“Yup. So, what do you say, boss?”
“I say I’ll think about it and I’ll get back to you after my appointment.”
Grace scowls at me and rests her fists on her hips. “You don’t have any appointments until later this afternoon.”
“You’re right,” I say, holding out my hand to Daphne. She’s quick to jump to her feet and wrap her fingers around mine. “I’m Harvey’s noon client.”
“What?”
“Holly Wayne? Yeah, that’s me.”
She looks from me to Daphne and then back at me. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Come and find out,” I say before heading for Harvey’s room.
“Find out what?” asks Coder as he emerges from the hallway.
“Come and find out,” I tell him.
“What’s going on?” Willow peeks her head out of her door as we pass.
“Come and find out,” I insist.
“Pete—something’s happening,” she announces as she follows.
Harvey’s setting up his station when all of us enter. He turns and eyes us suspiciously. “What’s up?”
“I’m your noon appointment today.”
“I thought I was seeing some Holly girl.”
“Holly Wayne? Sounds kind of like Hollo-way? Yeah—that’s me.”
He folds his arms across his chest as he shakes his head in bewilderment. “Why didn’t you just put your own name down?”
“Because I knew you’d ask me what I was getting done and I didn’t trust myself not to tell you,” I answer, reaching into my back pocket for the image I’ve had ready for weeks. I played around with a few different ideas, not sure how I wanted this one depicted. I ended up with three that I really liked and then Daphne choose which one she liked the best.
I hand the folded paper to Harvey and he unfolds it slowly. Grace races to his side to see the little wolf cub I intend to add on the inside of my arm, a couple inches above my wrist. The cub that represents Little Worm is running toward the wolf that represents Daphne; its tail is lifted, its ears are perked up, and Daphne swears I’ve managed to make it look breathless with excitement.
“Shit,” Harvey mutters as he looks at Daph. “Does this mean that you’re…” She nods enthusiastically before the shrieking begins.
“You’re pregnant?” cries Grace.
“Yeah,” Daphne says with a laugh.
“Fuck, yeah,” bellows Harvey as he reaches over to give me a high five. Pete and Coder clap me on the back as Grace envelopes Daphne in a huge hug.
“Oh, man—why didn’t we bet on that?” Willow jokes with a wink. “Congratulations! Let me see that drawing,” she demands, forcing her way through to Harvey.
“How far along are you?” asks Grace, resting her hands on Daphne’s stomach.
“Twelve weeks.”
“Really?” she squeals as she squirms with excitement. “I’m at eleven!”
“What?” Daph and I gasp in unison as the room falls silent.
“Harv knocked me up,” she says with a grin.
“It’s about damn time, Muscles,” teases Daphne as she wraps Grace in a second hug.
I laugh, even though I’m suddenly feeling more relieved than amused. Knowing that I won’t be the only new dad around here makes their announcement that much more exciting. “Looks like we’re going to be doing this together,” I tell Harvey as I reach to shake his hand.
“Two shit-heads are better than one!”
“Oh, stop,�
� Grace demands as she comes to give me a squeeze. “You guys are going to be great.”
“Better than great,” pipes in Daphne, congratulating Harvey with an embrace. “Sorry if we messed up your big announcement.”
Harvey scoffs. “Are you kidding? I’m so glad I don’t have to endure another week of keeping it under wraps. I don’t know how many times I’ve almost said something.”
“Me, too,” Grace giggles. “Geez, Daph—I can’t believe I didn’t notice. You’d think I’d have picked up on it.”
“Well, now you know this little bump is not my breakfast. It’s your baby’s new best friend.”
“Yes!” She gasps. “We should take a picture—a mini-bump-picture. Come on,” she grabs Daphne’s hand and starts pulling her from the room, catching Granola’s hand along the way.
Harvey and I look at each other and share a knowing look and a laugh. Those two will be incorrigible for the next six months. “On that note, I think this occasion calls for a new tattoo. Muscles?”
“Let’s do it.”
December 2015
I don’t know how she did it. Honestly, I have no idea how this happened. If someone told me I’d been brainwashed, I’d believe them. It’s about the only logical explanation I can come up with for why I wake up Christmas morning craving a cup of coffee.
Dammit. I hate it when she’s right.
But, my God, I love her. So much.
Five months ago, my life took a very unexpected turn. I was traveling down this road with this picture of how my life was going to progress—with school and work. I had goals and a plan and it didn’t include Logan in any way, shape, or form. Then, without warning, she became my roadblock and she knocked my life off course.
No—God knocked my life off course and Logan was the roadblock that turned out to be my constellation prize.
Now, there is no picture of my future that doesn’t include her. I know how crazy that sounds. I do. I’ve got a best friend who reminds me all the time that I’m in love with a girl I all but hated just a few months ago. The woman I see today, she’s my testimony; she’s the one I think about when I tell people you can’t put limits on God; and she’s the one I think about before I judge someone that I don’t know.