Here and Now

by Constance O'Day-Flannery

  Now, if she could just stay in the moment and keep her mind from wandering into the scary unknown future.

  “Oh, here,” she said, handing him the box of tissues. “You might as well blow your nose too.”

  He took them and just stared at the white feather dancing in the wind, away from Forrest and into the sky. “Thanks,” he muttered in a husky voice. As the credits rolled up the TV screen, he sniffled once and then cleared his throat.

  “Blow your nose,” she whispered, dabbing at the tears rolling down her own cheeks. “It’s okay to express your emotions, you know. It doesn’t make you any less masculine. In fact, it makes you more whole.”

  Pulling out a tissue, he blew his nose and sighed deeply. “Whole? You think I’m somehow broken if I don’t cry?”

  She glanced at him and could see a slight smile on his face. “Not broken, just incomplete. I’ve always thought it was a sad thing that men feel it’s not… well, manly to cry if something affects them deeply. I can’t imagine what it must be like to keep everything you’re feeling so tightly bottled up inside of you. Anyway, I was talking about a whole human being. Having both masculine and feminine sides.”

  Chuckling, he said in disbelief, “I have a feminine side?”

  She clicked off the VCR and looked at him. “Yes, Charles Garrity, you have a feminine side. That’s how you began life.”

  “Why, because I help you take care of Matty and have cooked a few meals? You think I’m… feminine?”

  She could see that he was becoming defensive, and grinned to diffuse any tension. “And washed clothes and vacuumed the rugs too, for which I am eternally grateful. I don’t think you’re becoming feminine. I think you, like most men, have been denying what is innately a part of you.”

  “I am not feminine, Suzanne,” he stated firmly.

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Oh, Charlie. You have to get over your macho programming. I wasn’t insulting you. I was actually paying you a compliment.”

  “It doesn’t quite sound like a compliment,” he muttered, putting the box of tissues on the coffee table, away from him, as though holding them was an admittance of weakness. “And what’s macho programming?”

  “Well, it’s how you have been taught—programmed or brainwashed by society, ever since you were born, with instructions or dictates on how a male should act.”

  “That doesn’t feel like a compliment, either,” he retorted, looking away from her.

  “The same thing’s been done to women, dictating how one should act or behave.” She carefully tried to weigh her words. “Listen, remember when you said I should take charge? That I should be more assertive, more commanding. Those are considered male traits. You suggested that I should use them more often. As a woman, I wasn’t insulted by that. I’m telling you, Charlie, everyone—you, me, every single human being—starts out as a female.”

  “I should know what I am. You call Matty your son. He’s obviously a male.”

  He really appeared to be getting upset. She realized that women had only gotten the right to vote six years before he’d time traveled, so he still might consider feminine as being weak, but she was right about this one and she could prove it. “Wait,” she said, getting up from the sofa and pulling her robe together. She walked over to the built-in shelves and searched for the book she felt might help. “When I became pregnant, I did a lot of reading about human physiology. I must have bought every book I could find about conception and babies and how they grow. Here it is,” she pronounced, grabbing the volume she was seeking. The Course of Prenatal Development.

  She came back to the sofa and sat next to him. Paging through the book, she stopped on the pictures of growth from a zygote to a full-term baby. “Okay, now look at these,” she urged, pointing to the first. “This is right after conception, when the egg and the sperm unite into a one-cell organism called a zygote. Everything, all the other cells in your body, develop and grow from this one cell, as that cell multiples over and over.”

  She pointed to the next pictures. “Then it becomes an embryo at two weeks and a fetus at two months and there’s no male definition at all. See? It looks female. It’s somewhere around the third month, the third month, that sexual organs develop and, at that point, if the Y chromosome is present, indicating a male…” How was she ever going to say this, and to this man in particular? Figuring she’d might as well keep it clinical, she took a deep breath and continued, “… If the Y chromosome is present, the ovaries drop into testicles and the clitoris extends into…. well, into a penis.” She exhaled.

  There was silence after she finished and Suzanne bit her bottom lip in apprehension, wondering if she had upset him even more. But how was she to explain her point without the correct terms?

  “I’m confused,” he said finally. “What are cells and chromo…”

  “Chromosomes,” she completed the word, grateful he was at least asking questions. “Okay, this will take a bit more explaining. A cell begins when the male fertilizes the egg and, see, in the diagram, how it multiplies? That is what you are made of—cells. Your heart is a group of cells, making an organ. And chromosomes are at the center of every cell. They are threadlike strands of… of DNA. This is going to sound complicated, but everything builds on another and inside of the chromosomes are genes which carry the details of your hereditary blueprint from your father and your mother. You are both. Male and female. To deny one part is to deny half of yourself.”

  Charlie didn’t say anything for a long time and Suzanne remained silent, allowing him to look at the book and digest her words. Finally, after about two minutes, she whispered, “Well, what do you think?”

  He closed the book and handed it to her. “I am not a woman,” he stated, as he got up from the sofa.

  She laughed. “I never said you were a woman! I said that all human beings have a masculine and a feminine side and to deny it is to deny a part of yourself. It’s been programming, socialization, that has made women swallow down their rage because it isn’t seen as feminine. No wonder women get ulcers. And men have been taught to suppress all tender emotions because that isn’t seen as masculine. Talk about heart disease. Let me ask you this. How do you feel when Matty closes his tiny hand around your finger? Do you feel a rush of affection, like a melting around your heart?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Does it sort of break down all your defenses?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess,” he reluctantly mumbled.

  “Hard to be tough and assertive around him when he’s like that, huh?” He didn’t answer, so she just continued. “To be soft, warm, receiving those feelings is the feminine side of you. It’s as equally important to receive, Charlie, as it is to give. I guess that’s one lesson most of us need to learn.”

  He looked around the room. “It appears I have a whole lot to learn.”

  She stood up and faced him, wishing she had the courage to take him into her arms and hug him. “I think you’ve learned a great deal since you’ve been here. I am so proud of you, Charlie. You really listen and, even though some of it goes against everything you’ve been taught to believe is true, you’re still trying to keep an open mind. I admire that, and you.”

  “Thank you. I’ll accept that compliment,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed.

  “No, thank you for everything you’ve done since we met. I know how hard this has been, faced with all that this time presents. I know it’s confusing and sometimes even painful. And I know you left a life that you want to get back to… yet you’ve stayed with me and done more for me than any man ever has, including my husband. I might have truly lost it, if you hadn’t come into my life.”

  “I’ve told you, there’s no need for you to keep thanking me. It’s been mutual.”

  She looked deep into his striking green eyes and whispered, “Learn to receive. I’m still complimenting you.”

  He chuckled and his grin was so appealing, so inviting, so downright sexy that Suzanne felt he
r body tensing to fight the growing attraction.

  “Won’t make me a woman, will it?”

  She grinned back. “No, it won’t. I never doubted your masculinity, Charles Garrity.”

  She was standing close enough to hear his breath exhale after listening to her words. Knowing she was treading on thin ice here, she added, “Now, I’m going to go upstairs and see how much sleep I can get before Matty wakes up.” Bending down to pick the book up off the sofa, she realized that Charlie was quicker and their hands brushed as they both tried to reach for it.

  “I’ll do it, Suzanne. You go on up to bed.” He took the book and walked over to the shelf. “I’ll turn off all the lights and close down the house.”

  “Okay,” she murmured, still tingling from their skin contact. She would think about it later. Just not right now while her mind was in an uproar of emotions. “Well, good night then. I enjoyed our evening.”

  He turned around from the shelf and smiled at her. “Yes, so did I. The video was very good and the conversation was… well, informative to say the least. Sleep well.”

  “You, too,” she whispered and turned toward the hall stairs. Sleep well. She fully intended to do just that.

  Somehow, toward the end of it, she knew it was a dream and yet nothing in the world could have stopped her from continuing. For Charlie was on top of her, staring down into her eyes with such love, such tenderness, as the rhythm of his body brought her closer and closer to the edge. She felt it, in every cell of her body as it built and built, driving her near madness until it exploded in a great, glorious, exquisite orgasm. She awoke fully as the aftershocks pulsed through her body in waves and she was filled with an odd mixture of shame and intense gratification. It must be true that the brain was the most powerful sexual organ, for her hands were tightly clasping the sheet.

  Dear God, it had been so long since she’d had an orgasm!

  And then it started, a pain, so deep and piercing, that she was not only still clutching the sheet but gasping for breath. It felt like… like labor, like what she had experienced after Matty had been delivered. Oh, no… her uterus was really contracting now!

  She rolled over to her side and pulled her legs up to lessen the pain, but nothing was helping. She gasped again, this time louder. Soon, she couldn’t stop the moans from escaping from her lips. She tried Lamaze breathing. It didn’t work.

  “Suzanne? Are you all right?”

  No. No! Do not let this happen, she cried out to the universe. Grant her some dignity to ride out this humiliation. “I’m fine,” she huffed, as another contraction pulled her under its firm grip.

  “No, you’re not,” Charlie stated, coming to the side of the bed and sitting on the edge.

  “I’m all right. I’m telling you I’m all right,” she blurted out in a rush of breath.

  He placed his hand on her forehead, as though checking for a fever, and then gently stroked back her hair. “What’s wrong? You’re in pain.”

  “No, I’m not,” she gasped, now pleading with her body, with God, with anyone, to take away this pain and indignity.

  “Suzanne, I am not blind. You are in pain. Where? What’s happening?”

  She kept shaking her head, as if the movement would take her mind away from the reality of the situation. “Please, Charlie, leave me alone. I’ll get through it.”

  “I am not leaving you like this. Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  She took a deep breath and just spit it out. “My uterus is contracting, all right? Are you satisfied? What can you possibly do to help me?” She didn’t care any longer about humiliation. All she wanted was for the pain to go away. No orgasm was worth this, especially one that had only started in her head!

  “Here, try to relax. Let’s do the breathing like we did in the hospital.”

  “I did try that. It doesn’t work.”

  “And this is normal? This pain after having a baby?”

  She opened one eye and nearly glared at him. “If you had something in your body blown up to the size of a watermelon, it might take a little while for it to contract back to the size of a pear—ya think?”

  He nodded and began to soothe her back in long gentle strokes. When she concentrated on his touch, the pain actually began to lessen. She tried breathing with each stroke and soon there was only an occasional cramping. After about five minutes, she relaxed the muscles in her body and just allowed him to soothe her. “This feels heavenly,” she whispered.

  “Good. Just relax, and see if you can go back to sleep.”

  She opened her eyes and turned her head to see him better. From the light in the hallway, she could see he was wearing a sleeveless undershirt and a pair of boxer shorts. It was more than she could handle at the moment, as his touch was bringing back memories of that dream and nothing, but nothing, was going to make her have a repeat performance of that!

  “I feel much better now. Thanks.” Why wouldn’t he just leave?

  He smiled down at her. “Shh… go back to sleep.”

  Sleep? She was terrified of sleep now! “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “You didn’t. I was reading,” he said, while continuing to run his hand so gently, almost tenderly, over her shoulder and her back.

  Oh, he simply has to stop this, she thought, and yet a part of her was almost melting under his touch. It had been so long since anyone had been tender with her. Certainly Kevin hadn’t touched her for months and her body seemed to crave the tenderness, soaking up each stroke as he— She immediately stopped that train of thought. This was dangerous territory she was treading, which could produce some painful results.

  “What were you reading?” she asked, to change her desperate thinking.

  “The Course of Prenatal Development.”

  She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Really?”

  “Really,” he said with a laugh. “I am simply amazed at how far science has developed since my time. It’s fascinating, and I’m looking at Matty like the greatest miracle on the planet.”

  She smiled. Matty. There was a safe subject.

  “Matty! What time is it?” she asked with sudden alarm.

  He looked at the clock on her night table. “Three twenty-five.”

  She immediately pushed herself up from the bed. “My God, why hasn’t he awakened for a feeding?” In seconds her brain ran frightening thoughts about sudden infant death syndrome.

  Charlie attempted to stand up, but not before Suzanne nearly pushed him out of the way as she threw her legs to the floor and bounded up and out of the room. Her heart was pounding in her chest and in her ears as she raced across the hallway and into the nursery. She stood, for just a moment, and stared at her still son. Hearing Charlie coming into the room to stand behind her, she bravely put her hand on Matty’s chest and almost cried out in relief as she felt his tiny rib cage expanding with precious breath.

  “He’s okay,” she whispered, near weak with relief.

  Charlie put his hand to her shoulder and whispered, “You’re a good mother, Suzanne. He’s just sleeping, like you should be doing.”

  She sank her back into his chest as the fear left her body shaky. “He’s missed a feeding.”

  “I think he’ll survive the night. He does have a healthy appetite when he’s awake. He must be satisfied.”

  “He does look peaceful,” she whispered back, trying to ignore the shivering sensations of his breath at the back of her ears.

  “Come along, and get rest while you can.”

  She turned to leave the nursery, but Charlie didn’t move back. She stood facing him. Stunned by the close proximity, she merely stared into his eyes. It was a moment too long, when propriety demanded that one of them step back. Instead, Charlie reached out and put his hand firmly around her waist as he turned to the lighted hallway.

  “Your body is shaking from fright. Let me help you back to bed.”

  She simply nodded, sure that no words would be appropriate. She was only certain of one thing. She probab
ly would not be taking advantage of Matty sleeping through the night. Instead she intended to remain awake, mentally chaste, and try not to think about how breathtakingly right it felt to be embraced by Charlie Garrity’s arm.

  10

  She held the receiver to her ear as she stood at the kitchen window over the sink and watched Charlie mowing the back lawn. In seconds her mind ran facts she couldn’t deny. He looked so… so manly, sitting on that mower, concentrating so hard, making sure that the mowed lines were exact. He was wearing a pair of jeans, his boots, and a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She had to admit he looked good—really good—and no one would guess that he had traveled seventy-five years into her life. She watched the sunlight hit his auburn hair and sighed deeply in appreciation as he turned to start a new line. The lawn was as manicured as a putting green at a country club. He certainly did everything with precise care, whether it was folding laundry or painting the small barn at the corner of the property. A tiny part of her wondered what it might be like to make love with such a man. She bet he would be an exquisite lover, paying meticulous attention to—

  “Suzanne, are you listening? This is really important.”

  Shocked by her thoughts, she blinked and brought her attention back to the phone conversation. “I’m sorry, Laura,” she said, walking away from the window. “I didn’t hear that last part.” Damn, she simply had to get her mind on reality.

  “Okay, I did a little creative accounting and began negotiations at seven thousand.”

  “Seven? I thought we decided on six.”

  “We decided on seven. They settled for six, with the stipulation that within three months you surrender the house to Kevin. That’s six thousand a month, and that doesn’t include child support, which will add another two thousand for the next eighteen years. We can always go back and renegotiate.”

  “I have to move in three months?” She looked out to the family room as a sinking feeling grabbed hold of her stomach. Kevin must really want this house to pay her ninety-six thousand dollars a year to get her out.