by M. Ullrich
Marty grabbed a pillow and shielded herself. “Because you could use more ruffles and bows in your wardrobe. Ah!” Suzanne poked her cold toes into Marty’s calves, and Marty fell out of their queen-sized bed. “Ow!”
Suzanne looked over the edge of the bed down at her naked wife. “You okay down there?”
“I think I got rug burn on my ass.”
“Serves you right.”
“Kiss it and make it better?” Marty stood and pressed her small bare behind in Suzanne’s face, waiting for a pair of lips. She got a slap instead. “Jeez!” She rubbed at the tender spot. “Will you be spanking our daughter too?”
“Only if she takes after her mother,” Suzanne said with a raised eyebrow. “Now get your rug-burned butt back in bed. It’s cold here all by myself.” Marty slid beneath the covers and gathered Suzanne in her arms. After a beat of silence, Marty spoke again.
“I agree with you. I’d be happy with any healthy baby we get.” She nodded, approving of her own statement.
“But a girl would be cute,” Suzanne added.
“Oh, the absolute cutest.” She peppered Suzanne’s face with small kisses. “Because she would take after you.” Suzanne started giggling uncontrollably when the kisses grew unrelenting and spread across her sensitive chest. Their future was clear to Marty in that moment. No matter where life took them, they’d go happily as long as they were together.
*
It had been three days since that devastating day. Three days spent talking casually of Suzanne’s next cycle and their plans for it. Marty walked into their bedroom after a morning meeting to find Suzanne sitting on the bed surrounded by what looked like at-home pregnancy tests.
“Suzanne?” She dropped her briefcase just inside the entryway and discarded her heels beside it. “What’s going on?”
“Seven.” Suzanne’s wide blue eyes looked around, unfocused.
“Seven what?”
“I took the first one and it said positive.” She shook her head and her hair, slightly knotted, hung loosely in front of her face. Marty reached forward to tuck a few wayward strands behind her ears. “So I took another and another and another…”
It didn’t take long for Marty to catch on to what was going on. “Suzanne, are you pregnant?”
She nodded timidly at first, but the nod became firmer. “Yes, I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant.”
“You’re pregnant!” Marty said loudly enough for her neighbors to hear. She hugged her wife and kissed her soundly enough to stifle the gleeful laughter she felt bubbling inside at the good news. When they separated, both women’s eyes were filled with happy tears that continued to fall into the night.
Chapter Six
“It’s a girl,” the doctor announced happily as he held the crying newborn up for all to see.
Marty stared in awe. The little face, scrunched up and red, was perfect. Ten little fingers and ten little toes, legs kicking furiously as the nurses wrapped the baby up and got her to her mother. Marty looked at Suzanne and beamed wildly. They had spent the last nine hours experiencing things no pregnancy book or website could’ve prepared them for, but it was all worth it in the end.
Suzanne lay exhausted, propped up against damp pillows as she waited anxiously for her daughter to be placed in her arms. Her blond hair was plastered to her sweaty neck and her face was still blotchy from exertion. Marty’s breath was heavy with the beauty of it all.
Another shrill cry startled Marty, and she snapped into action, moving quickly to Suzanne’s side, grabbing her hand and speaking softly yet emotionally.
“You did great.” Marty’s eyes started to well with tears of pride. “So, so great.”
“Here’s your daughter.” The head nurse of the maternity floor handed the pink bundle to Suzanne. “Have you picked a name?”
“Abigail.” Suzanne spoke in wonder. “Abigail May.” Suzanne looked up into Marty’s watery emerald eyes. “She’s beautiful.”
“Just like her mother,” Marty was quick to add.
“Thank you, Marty.”
“For what?” Marty laughed. She’d done nothing special. She’d barely even reminded her of the many breathing exercises they had practiced together over the past two months.
“For being here. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Blake will be happy to know I wasn’t alone.” She touched the tip of her index finger to the baby’s perfect button nose.
“What?” Marty looked around the delivery room frantically, hoping one of the many strangers milling about the room could clarify the situation. She started to worry something was wrong with Suzanne.
Just then a disheveled man burst through the door. “Oh thank God! I’m so sorry.” He rushed to Suzanne’s side and froze the moment he saw the newborn. A tender smile lit up his bearded face, and his eyes softened with wonderment.
“Hey, Daddy,” Suzanne said happily. Blake leaned in and kissed the blonde’s forehead before doing the same to his daughter.
“Now that the father is here, we need you to step outside. Give the family some alone time.” An older nurse started to gently pull Marty toward the door.
“Wait,” Blake called out, walking over to Marty. “I need to thank you. You’ve been a wonderful friend to Suzanne through this whole pregnancy. After today, I don’t think I can thank you enough.” He stuck out his left hand, white gold band wrapped snugly around his ring finger, and waited patiently for Marty to accept his thanks.
When her own hand extended, Marty looked down and lost the ability to breathe. The ring on her finger was gone. She was not married to the woman cradling a dozing Abigail. Her Abigail.
“She’s my daughter.”
Blake dropped his hand. “Excuse me?” he said with an amused smirk.
“Abigail is my daughter.” Marty spoke loudly, her voice rising well above an appropriate volume for a hospital room. “She’s mine and Suzanne’s.” Desperate tears made their way down her red cheeks. She could feel a fire building inside, one born of jealousy and rage. This man was taking her life away from her and assuming it to be his. A life he was not worthy of. “Suzanne?” Marty looked past Blake and stared into the other woman’s eyes.
Suzanne stared back with no recognition.
“Come on. You can wait outside until we get her in a room.” The nurse pushed again and Marty tried to resist, gaining the attention of a much stronger male nurse. Both hospital employees took an arm and guided a hysterical Marty to the hallway.
“That’s my family!” she screamed. No one believed her. No one seemed to have heard her. The only sound that filled the space was a happy couple laughing together over their newborn.
Marty sat up and struggled for air. She gasped, searching desperately for oxygen. She glanced at the bedside table to check the time. The large red numbers that read three o’clock in the morning taunted her. In the weeks since Abigail’s passing, sleep had eluded Marty. More often than not, she’d find herself dozing on the sofa after work, but in bed, her eyes would be wide open and her mind riddled with thoughts she could never seem to put to rest either.
Four weeks of Marty trying to reconcile with Suzanne, and she hadn’t made much headway. The most progress she had was recently when Suzanne didn’t immediately hang up or ignore her calls altogether. She had managed some small talk about the weather and even heard about Suzanne’s full-time job at the local library. When Marty tried for more personal details, Suzanne would end the call immediately. Marty would chastise herself for pushing too hard too fast. She knew Suzanne better than anyone, and she knew she didn’t take kindly to being forced into anything.
Marty looked at the clock again and sighed deeply. When she closed her eyes, short, sporadic clips of her dream and other nightmares haunted her. She often dreamt of Abigail standing over her paralyzed body, asking her why. Other times her dreams felt more like fantasies, of enjoying a beautiful day on the beach with Suzanne when suddenly an enormous wave washed as
hore and took Suzanne from her. Every dream, each with its own thinly veiled message, was more vivid than the next, driving Marty to avoid slumber altogether.
She opened her eyes again and stared at the ceiling. Shadows danced along the textured surface and drew her into a hypnotic state. There, somewhere between conscious and sleep, Marty’s next move became clear to her.
*
“Sometimes, Rosemary, I swear you stick me in the Reference section just to keep me close enough to listen to your gossip.” Suzanne smiled warmly at her elderly coworker. She was convinced the library had been built around Rosemary Smelson.
“It’s not gossip if it’s factual.” The short, gray-haired woman looked at Suzanne over her eyeglasses. “I do not lie.”
“If you say so.” Suzanne stacked the rest of the returns onto a large metal cart she pushed to the opposite end of the long aisles. She wasn’t in the mood for factual gossip that morning, no matter how juicy.
The best part about working at a library was the peace Suzanne found there. The job didn’t pay well, but it kept her busy. After her divorce, she had felt as if she no longer had a life of her own. The entirety of her world was with Marty. So she slowly started to rebuild. Suzanne got a job she knew she’d be good at, and when she ran into Blake the simplicity of the relationship was appealing. She even surprised herself when she willingly changed the nature of their relationship from friendship to more.
Suzanne placed several books on a low shelf and pushed the cart forward.
Blake. Suzanne thought of her fiancé. He was a kind man, a handsome man, and his job paid well. Suzanne’s mother had always told her to look for those three things in a future husband. Happy, Mother? Suzanne mused to herself with a sigh as she pushed a particularly thick book between its neighboring volumes.
As the quiet surrounded Suzanne, she recalled the past few nights and all the ways Blake had been caring and kind—so caring and kind she felt suffocated by his very existence. He followed her around, catered to her, and asked about her well-being every time she was quiet for a moment too long.
She felt guilty for being annoyed by his behavior, but she was. The final straw was the night before when he’d overheard a curt conversation with Marty and offered to talk to her on Suzanne’s behalf and ask her to back off. Suzanne snapped. She had never yelled at the man before. After she was done, he’d left the room like a scolded puppy. Blake had no place in that part of her life.
Marty. Suzanne stared at the worn cover of the encyclopedia in her hands, fingering the dented corner. Marty was a kind woman, a beautiful woman, and she had a job that paid well—but she was a woman nonetheless, one thing her mother never encouraged her to go after. Happy, Mother? She sighed again, this time out of anger, and dropped the thick volume onto the cart. The thud echoed throughout the quiet space.
“Is Suzanne Dempsey working today?” she heard someone ask from the opposite side of the shelves.
“I’m sorry, who?” Rosemary asked. Suzanne inched closer to the corner of the bookcase.
“Carlson, Suzanne Carlson. Is she working today?” The louder the voice got, the more familiar it became.
Suzanne scrambled back to her cart and checked her appearance. Her violet polo was bright beneath a black cardigan, and she knew her jeans were worn, but they fit her well. But why did she care what she looked like?
“Hey.”
Feigning surprise, Suzanne spun around and placed her hand over her heart, which was beating quickly, but not from shock.
“Marty.” She ran her fingers through the short hair at the back of her head. “What are you doing here?” Suzanne struggled to keep her tone neutral. She had no in between with Marty. She was either too happy to see her or ready to scream at her.
“I’m sorry to just show up like this, especially at your work. I just needed to see you.” Marty’s eyes held such desperation, such hope for consolation, that Suzanne couldn’t be angry.
“Marty…”
“I know, you don’t want to talk to me so I’m sure you don’t want to see me, but…” Marty paused and looked around awkwardly. She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands. “I keep having dreams about Abigail.”
For whatever reason, Suzanne ignored her better judgment and succumbed to her need to comfort the taller woman. “It’s kind of funny that you’re here, I was just thinking about you.” She whispered the small confession. Marty lifted her head at the words, a cocky smile on her gorgeous face. “Not like that.” Suzanne corrected her sternly but couldn’t suppress a giggle.
Marty shrugged nonchalantly. “A girl can dream.”
Why was it so easy to flirt with Marty? Why did they stop so long ago, and why did she have an overwhelming desire to start again now? Suzanne shook the thoughts from her head. Marty’s voice cut through the thick silence.
“Please have lunch with me?”
The earnest look on her face was the only push Suzanne needed to answer yes.
They Faced Challenges Together…Mostly
Marty still couldn’t find what she was looking for, no matter how many times she scanned the paperwork fanned out before her. Being a real estate agent had its perks, like working from home. With Suzanne being five months pregnant, they found themselves in full-blown nesting mode, and preparing for a baby took up a lot of time. So only having to spend morning hours at the office came in handy.
“Dammit,” Marty mumbled under her breath as she pushed aside the stack of two-bedroom listings within a five-mile radius. Her clients were searching for a palace, and all she could come up with were bungalows.
“Tough day at the in-home office?” Suzanne stood, resting her head against the doorway. Marty spun in her chair and looked at her wife’s protruding belly, making her way up to her humored, calming blue eyes.
“My clients are a major pain in the ass, but the commission will be worth it.” She rose from her cushioned office chair and stepped closer to Suzanne. “You cut your hair.” Marty moved closer and kissed the corner of her wife’s plump mouth before running her fingers through her new style.
Now Suzanne’s gorgeous face, enviable bone structure, and large blue eyes were no longer hidden. Her hair was cut short, clipped closely around her ears and at her neck. The top was a bit longer so it could be styled playfully up and away from her face. Marty appraised her new look and kissed her soundly.
“I love it. I was sure it was impossible, but you look even more beautiful.”
“Oh stop!” Suzanne blushed and dropped her head. Marty caught her chin and raised it again, looking at her with sincerity.
“You’re stunning.” Marty kissed her again after she knew her words were absorbed. She sat back down at her desk. “How was class?” She pulled a new stack of listings from a worn red folder, leaning back and stretching her sore back before slumping forward again.
Suzanne stepped into the room and started to move the cardboard boxes about aimlessly. They had everything they needed to turn the office into a nursery. Each piece of furniture was boxed up except for the antique rocking chair Marty’s mother gave them. The blonde sat, rocked one time and then once more before answering.
“I didn’t go to class.”
“Why not?” Marty didn’t turn to look at her wife, who was seated behind her. She flipped a sheet of paper and drew a large, angry X across the back.
“I wasn’t feeling very well.” That got Marty’s attention. She turned slowly toward Suzanne, her thin eyebrows high, pinning her with her stare. Silence grew thick and awkward in the room.
“What was wrong?” Marty was concerned, but she couldn’t shake the hardened tone out of her voice. This wasn’t an abnormal occurrence anymore. Since the pregnancy had been confirmed by their doctor, Suzanne started to tread carefully through life, taking care to eat right and rest. Marty encouraged it all, but also noticed Suzanne got anxious about every small feeling. She couldn’t help but mentally note all the complaints from the past week alone: heartburn, gas, back pain, knee
pain, headaches, and a vaginal discharge that made her feel wholly unsexy. All completely normal, but Suzanne nearly panicked each and every time.
“I had cramps…”
“You had what?” The shock on her face would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the flames in her eyes.
“Cramps,” Suzanne mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with this confrontation.
“Why didn’t you call me? I was home all afternoon, I could’ve—” Marty stopped abruptly, piecing more details together. Suzanne didn’t go to class, but Marty had been home since noontime and it was now after four o’clock. A haircut, no matter how drastic, would not take four hours. “Where were you if you didn’t go to class?”
“I got my hair cut—”
“Suzanne,” Marty warned.
“I went to the hospital. It turned out to be nothing!”
Marty ran her fingers through her long, curly hair and scratched harshly at her scalp. She clamped her eyes shut for a moment before opening them and locking onto Suzanne.
“Why didn’t you call me?” She spoke through a clenched jaw. Marty didn’t wrestle with her temper often, but when she did her temper often won.
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Did you really just say that?” Marty pushed back her chair and slammed it into the wall. Suzanne flinched. “Were you worried?” Marty asked. Suzanne nodded, keeping her eyes on her hands folded on her lap. “Then I should be worried too! Dammit, Suzanne! We’re married. That means we sleep together, live together, and worry to-geth-er!” Each syllable of the final word came out separately. “Will you call me when the baby’s born to spare me the worry of you being in labor?” Suzanne had yet to look up, which infuriated Marty even more. “Jesus Christ.” She left the room, taking the stairs at a rapid pace.
Suzanne sat quietly for a few moments collecting her thoughts and controlling her emotions. She got up and followed Marty to the kitchen, but instead of stopping as Marty got a glass of water, she walked by briskly and went out on the deck.