The Finish

by Jade Eby

  "It's not. Will it ever be?" He asks, his eyes pleading with me.

  I want to tell him yes. I want to believe it. But I don't know that it ever will be okay.

  For this moment, though, I will lie. I will tell him anything he needs to hear.

  "Sure it will. We'll get through this," I say, squeezing his hand in mine.

  There's a silence that I take as acceptance. Words have no business in this moment and I know in the space between us, there is something bigger happening. We're healing even as Carter's falling apart. I'm getting back the man I love, though he's lost a part of himself.

  "I can't go up there," he says, nodding toward the upper level of the hospital. "She's dead and they're up there acting like she's coming back. She's not, though. She was dead before the ambulance took her away."

  I'm afraid to ask the question that's been at the base of my throat since his phone call. "What happened?"

  He shakes his head and laughs. But it's the fake one he uses when he's trying not to lose his calm. "Fell down the stairs."

  An image of Marissa tumbling down their big flight of stairs, landing at the bottom, splayed out like a tossed doll fills my mind. I will it away.

  "It's a lie."

  I look at Carter when he says that. "What do you mean?"

  His eyes go dark. "How many times has she been up and down those damn stairs? She didn't fall. That fucker pushed her. He wanted her gone. I don't know how but he made it look like an accident."

  The scary part is that I don't think Carter's wrong. I don't think he's overreacting or assuming things. I think he's probably right and that makes me pull him into me even closer. I have shitty parents, but I don't think I could ever live with knowing that my father probably murdered my mother.

  "I'm so sorry," I whisper into his hair. I'm more sorry that this is how he knew it was going to end. He had to have known. His mother probably knew it minutes before her death. That she'd pay the price of his love with her death.

  We hold each other like that for a long time. Too long for me to realize the sun peeking up over the horizon.

  The weight of exhaustion falls over me. Carter's soft snores tell me he's been down for a while. I shake him gently.

  "Babe?"

  He pulls himself up groggily. "Hmm?"

  "Let's go home, okay? We'll get some sleep and figure things out later."

  He nods. I take him by the hand and lead him to my car. Inside, he leans his head against the window.

  As I drive us home - to our home - he picks up my hand and holds it. "I've been going to anger management classes like clockwork, you know. I'm getting better."

  I squeeze his hand and shake my head. "I know."

  The truth is, I've watched him go into the building for his classes. I've spied on him like I think maybe he has on me. Our own way of keeping each other close.

  "I love you," he says.

  "I know," I say, squeezing his hand. "I love you, too."

  "Please don't ever leave me. I'm not sure I could survive it," he whispers.

  I blink back tears. I'm not sure if I can survive with or without him.

  I'm bound to him forever.

  Chapter 4

  April - 2004

  Moving to a new city in a small cozy home was so much easier than I thought it would be. Carter and I packed our life into boxes, put it all in the back of a moving van and never looked back.

  To say it was the best decision we made is an understatement. I don't think we've ever been this happy. I don't think I've ever loved my life as much as I do now. It's horrible to think that Marissa's death forced Carter to change, but I don't have another explanation. It was like a flip switched inside of him. He became his old self, except an even better version.

  A version that made me fall even more in love with him.

  Here we are, months later, in a new house in a nice neighborhood. His new job with Flanahan Construction was a Godsend. Giving him the confidence and money we needed to start a new chapter in our lives.

  We even worked out a compromise. I work part-time at a women's clothing shop and come home to make him dinner.

  I roll out the pastry dough for the apple pie I'm making. The sunshine filters through the big kitchen windows, lighting the room up. The kitchen has become my place. I've never had a reason to be good at cooking or baking but now, it's all I seem to want to do. Pies and cookies. Cakes. Roast dinners. Chicken Marsala.

  Every day is a new experiment.

  The front door closes and Carter comes into the kitchen with a bouquet of daisies. He kisses me on the lips and hands the flowers to me.

  "They're gorgeous, babe. Thank you," I say, pulling him in for another kiss. "You're home early."

  He smiles and opens the fridge. Takes out a beer.

  "We finished the Straham Building early. Pat gave us the rest of the day off before we have to get ready for our next job."

  "That's great! You've been working so hard lately. You deserve a little break."

  He spies behind my shoulder at the rolled out dough. "Looks like you have a treat for me," he says reaching for a piece. I slap his hand away.

  "Not yet, mister. Wait until it's done."

  He gives me a playful frown. "Fun-sucker."

  I stick out my tongue at him. "You won't say that when it's finished and melt in your mouth good."

  He moves close to me, putting his arms around my waist. "Know what else is melt in my mouth good?" He whispers.

  "I bet you're going to tell me…"

  His lips land on my neck and his breath against my skin sends shivers up my spine. "You."

  The tension in my limbs drips away with his words. I groan when his lips work their way up to my mouth.

  "Didn't you mention something about the pitter patter of feet around here?"

  I hold his gaze steady. He knows I want that more than anything. I smile. "Something like that."

  "I think we may need to put dinner and pies on hold. We've got better things to do," he says, sweeping me off my feet.

  A giggle escapes my lips, a sound neither of us has heard much in the last few years. I wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle into him. "Are you sure you're ready for little pitter patters around here?"

  He covers my face in kisses. "Only if it's a boy. If it's a girl, we'll have to throw her away."

  I slug him in the arm playfully. "Shut up. I want a girl."

  So she has less of a chance of being like him.

  The thought sweeps in quickly and I worry that Carter can sense it. But he's too caught up in his good mood to notice.

  "That's because it will give you an excuse to buy more clothes," he says, laying me on the bed gently. He unbuttons my jeans. I shimmy out of them effortlessly.

  "You only want a boy so he can play sports and you can have someone to call champ."

  He laughs. "Champ, huh? Isn't that a Leave It To Beaver kind of nickname?"

  I shrug. "Fuck if I know. It sounded right," I say, tugging off my shirt. My plain white bra does nothing for my small but shapely breasts. I never realized how much you let go when you're married.

  "Pants off," I tease.

  "Bossy," he says, but removes his dirty denim. He strips down to nothing and for the first time in months, maybe even years, I admire him. Not as the boy I fell in love with or the man he was before now. I admire him in his current incarnation. His broad shoulders have been filled out by hours of hard labor and the ridges of his muscles have hardened in ways I haven't noticed until now.

  "When did you get so damn sexy?" I whisper.

  He straddles me and cups my breasts. "About the same time you reached baby fever." He brings an erect nipple into his mouth. The sensation ripples through my chest down to my belly where a fire has been lying dormant. Waiting to be lit up.

  His mouth, sucking on my exposed flesh is fuel and the flames within me threaten to burst wide open. I already ache for him to be inside me, filling me with all of him.

  He repositi
ons me, and slides inside. I groan at the simultaneous pleasure and pain of his thrust. His hands weave through my hair, and he moves in and out of me. Slow and deliberate.

  I scratch my fingers down his back and he groans.

  The muscles in his back have hardened along with his other muscles and it's like this new appreciation of him has set me ablaze. I thrum and tremble for the release I know will come.

  I'm not patient and want it now.

  "Faster," I whisper into the flesh of his shoulder. "Harder," I add.

  He shakes his head and removes his cock from me and pushes it in again, excruciatingly slow. "You can't come yet."

  He leans down and brings his lips to mine. His kissing is deep, labored. He does it as slow and gently as he moves inside me. This type of lovemaking is unusual and beautiful but I'm hungry for him. Hungry for a numbing orgasm to wash over my body and render me useless.

  "Fuck me, Carter," I say after pulling away from him.

  He licks his lips. "Are you sure you want it that bad?"

  Every muscle and vein inside of me throbs for it. I nod. "Yes."

  Before I've finished the word, he flips me over. Enters me from behind. In the past, I've hated this. It always felt too… controlling. Too possessive. But tonight, I welcome it. I want it. Need it. I need to feel the strength of him smashing into me. Marking what's his.

  He feeds into it - his first few thrusts deep, and then he picks up speed. And he's barreling into me. Over and over and over again.

  The fire in my belly spreads to my toes, fingers, my lips. He's in me, but he's everywhere on my skin. I'm electrified.

  "Fuck!" I scream into the pillow.

  His hands grip my sides so hard his fingernails dig into my flesh. The pain only adds a layer of pleasure that pulses inside of me. "Faster, Carter."

  I don't think he knows what has come over me, and neither do I. All I know is that I need to come. I need to feel him inside of me, the probability of our future dependent on it.

  He thrusts harder, his balls slapping against my ass and just when I think he can't get any faster, deeper, the current ripples through me. I moan and shudder, pulsating. He isn't far behind me and his groans mingle with mine.

  He pulls out and flips to his back, his dick standing to attention.

  I know well enough not to say anything. He's never liked post-sex chatter. Or cuddling. Or anything. He needs his space.

  Keeping my legs closed together, I send a silent prayer up to whoever exists up there. If there's a God, he'll let this be the great consummation. The start of another great chapter in Carter's and I life.

  I promise to be a very good girl if he/she/it will just grant me this wish.

  Give me a baby.

  July - 2004

  The damn three minutes. They get to me every time. I force myself not to open the bathroom door. As if by opening the door and introducing new air into the room will change the outcome. I haven't said anything to Carter about missing my period. I've been silently optimistic and it's killing me.

  His stress levels have skyrocketed with this new job Pat has him working on. I've barely seen him these last two months and when I do, he's moody, distant. What if it's positive and he's mad? What if he tells me he's not ready? Oh God, what if this was all a mistake?

  We've talked about this over and over and I thought we were on the same page, but I've learned how volatile his changes are and I couldn't take it if I knew he resented me or a child.

  I busy myself in the kitchen, finishing up the pulled pork and baked beans. I even made one of his favorite meals. If the test is positive, it will be our celebration. If it's negative… then it's just another day of me treating him to a well-made dinner.

  I pace back and forth. Should I give it more time? Just go look and get it over with?

  Fuck it.

  I race to the bathroom, bursting through the door. I close my eyes and pick the test up. This is it. The moment. Every time it's negative, a little piece of my heart splinters off and I'm terrified that too many more of those moments and my heart will completely shatter and leave me nothing to hold onto.

  I set it upside down on the counter and walk out. I can't do it.

  Why is this the time that has me so riled up?

  Closing the bathroom door again, I walk around my bedroom aimlessly. I open the closet and finger the dresses that I imagine won't fit me in a few months if I'm pregnant. Will I be one of those cute pregnant women? The kind that gets stopped in grocery stores and asked when I'm due?

  Who would I even tell if I am? It's not like we have that many friends. I can't even tell Courtney if I wanted to. It would get back to Carter and he'd be pissed that I spoke to the enemy. Without asking first. The nice neighbor, Rose, will notice. She'll fawn over me when she sees that I'm as big as a beach ball.

  If I'm pregnant. If. If. If.

  The clock on the bedside table flashes four fifteen. Carter will be home in an hour. I need to know what I'm going to tell him. Maybe I can shove the test in a box and put it under the sink. Do they expire? Will I get a false reading?

  Sighing, I force myself back to the bathroom. I'm going to do it this time.

  I clench my eyes shut and turn the test over again and again.

  Then I just do it. I open my eyes and look down.

  Two. Pink. Lines.

  Two pink lines. Holy shit.

  The world spins around me a little bit. No, no, no. This is not the time to pass out. I sit down on the toilet quickly and steady my breathing. I focus on the lines. How can one little stick hold all the possibilities of my future?

  I glance over to the bathroom mirror and there's a smile plastered on my face and no matter how hard I try to pretend I can be calm, it's a lie.

  My skin tingles and I rub my taut stomach.

  "You're in there, I can feel you already," I say aloud. "You're mine and you're already loved more than you will ever know."

  * * *

  The table is set. Dinner is warm. All that is missing is Carter. I sit in the chair, staring at the clock on the wall. He's usually home by five thirty at the latest. Oh God. What if he was in an accident? What if this good news was only a rouse for something worse happening?

  I push the thoughts down. I need to be better about my anxiety. It can't be good for the baby.

  Baby.

  I can't believe I'm having a baby. It's so strange to know that there's a beginning of a life inside of me.

  A rumbling exhaust fills the silence and I pull myself together. He'll walk through the door any minute.

  I'm falling apart already.

  The door creaks open and his boots clack against the entry way tile.

  "Smells good," he says.

  "Pulled pork," I say. Maybe a little too excitedly. I can't help it.

  He appears in the doorway. He gives me a half-smile. His skin has tanned from all the work outside, and it makes his green eyes even brighter.

  "Sorry I'm late. Pat's been on our ass about this job."

  I smile. "It's fine. Sit, sit. I'll get your plate ready."

  His eyebrows raise, but he sits. "What's going on?"

  "Nothing," I say, shaking my head. I need to be calmer. He's going to get the wrong idea and it'll ruin the whole thing.

  "No. Something's definitely up. You're never this… perky."

  I laugh. "Can't a girl be happy to see her husband after one of his long days at work?" I set his plate down in front of him.

  He picks up his fork but holds it in place. "We didn't win the lottery did we?"

  I'm so nervous I could barf all over the place. "No… it's better than that."

  "Okay… are you gonna tell me or you gonna make me sit here like an idiot?"

  My feet are rooted in place and it's as if I've swallowed a hundred cotton balls. "I'm pregnant."

  He doesn't move. Not a muscle. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. He's pissed.

  My heart slides from my chest, or at least it feels that way. Like it's going to sl
ip right out of me and land on the floor at his feet.

  "You're serious?" he says after a few seconds.

  I nod.

  He stands up and then a smile spreads across his face. "I'm going to be a father?"

  That's all it takes.

  Tears.

  They spring free and fall down my face. He picks me up and spins me around. He screams. I scream. He sets me down and we jump up and down. We dance around the kitchen like fools.

  "Oh my God. I can't believe it's actually happening," he says.

  I pull him close to me. "We're going to be parents. I'm so happy, Carter. I'm so fucking happy."

  He wipes the tears from my eyes, "Don't cry. You'll make me cry."

  "I can't help it. I've waited for this moment for so long and I was a nervous wreck all afternoon waiting for you to get home."

  His eyes glass over and I know he can't help it either. Fat tears roll down his cheeks. He grins and kisses me.

  "Don't be nervous. We got this," he says, pulling me into a hug.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I've never been more sure about anything else in my life. Besides you of course."

  "You're going to be a dad."

  He laughs and a rogue tear falls on my arm. "And you're going to be a great mom."

  We hold each other close, the smell of forgotten pulled pork wafting through the kitchen. This moment could have gone so wrong but it went so, so right.

  I'm finally going to have the family I never thought I'd have.

  And I won't give that up for anything.

  September - 2004

  It's a tight pinch at first, like someone is inside of me, scratching to get out. I think it's a dream. But when I open my eyes and squint into the darkness, a deep, throbbing cramp spreads in my groin.

  I sit up and double over, clutching my stomach. It spasms and I feel as if my uterus is being ripped from my body. I moan at the stabbing pain but Carter doesn't stir. The digital clock casts a little green light in my direction, enough that when I look down, hot, sticky liquid spreads between my legs.