Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

“You do? Well, shit.”

  “Shhh…let me talk. I know how you’re feeling because I feel the same way. I’m feeling every single thing you just mentioned…just more,” I say.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  Silence.

  “Cathy?” Ben asks.

  “Yes?”

  “I like you. I really like you.”

  “I like you too.”

  “Fuck, I want to…no, scratch that, I need to see you again.”

  “Me too.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the day after tomorrow, and the day after that?”

  “Yes, and yes.”

  “Cathy…”

  “Ben…”

  “Night, beautiful girl. And thank you for going out with me.”

  “Night, Ben. And thank you for asking me.”

  “Do we really have to hang up?”

  “Yes! Night,” I say, giggling.

  Closing my eyes, I grab my pillow and scream into it as I let myself believe that this magic night wasn’t a dream.

  I can still remember being able to feel the smile on my swollen lips as I begin to fall into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 6

  Present

  “Oh my God.”

  I stare at the stick with the plus sign once more. Can this be happening again? Can this be true?

  “Oh my God.”

  My vision starts to blur as I keep staring at the pregnancy test in my trembling hands. Hope and fear wrestle against each other to be the strongest and loudest emotion growing inside my chest. Hope wins.

  It always does.

  After carefully putting the pregnancy test on the sink, my hands, shaking now, automatically go to my flat stomach. There is life growing inside of me once more. I don’t want to feel hope; I don’t want my mind to inevitably wander to our attic where there are pink and blue things still wrapped in gift boxes, unopened. I don’t want to start wishing for things that may never happen. Gosh, but it is so easy to.

  Feeling the tears rolling down my cheeks, I stick my tongue out to taste them, savor each and every single one of them. They are happy tears for once, and they taste so sweet on my tongue. Moving away from the porcelain tub, I run out of the bathroom in search of Ben.

  As I make my way to Ben’s office, I notice how bright the corridors look this morning. The rays of sun hit the windowpanes at just the right angle that as I’m walking by, rainbows of color are reflected on my skin. Funny, it has been a long time since I’ve noticed how pretty our home is. There are so many pictures of Ben and me, eleven years worth of a life together to be exact, scattered through out the walls. Hard to believe time has flown by this fast.

  Sometimes, when passing by, I notice how young and happy we looked, so in love. Our smiles remind me of how promising we thought our life together would be. The look in the eyes of that young girl reminds me of a time when looking at Ben made me believe that the answers to life’s secrets could be found within him. That he was my answer to everything. Sadly, I’ve come to discover that such a notion is not only false but impossible. No one has all the answers to solve the big puzzle that life is, and it is even less likely that another person can offer them to you.

  The girl in those pictures doesn’t look like she is plagued by uncertainty, though. If anything, the woman and the man posing in the pictures look like they believe everything is possible and within reach. I haven’t seen those feelings when I look at my reflection in the mirror for a very long time.

  Nearing his office, closing in the physical distance between us, a thought is planting its thick roots in my head and heart, spreading hope within me. Call it wishful thinking, but I hope that the small life inside of me is able to bridge the emotional space growing between us. An emotional gap so wide, that lately it feels almost insurmountable to close.

  It is the source of our growing distance after all.

  Well, mine mostly.

  ****

  I find a frowning Ben when I walk in his office. One of the stems of his glasses is in his mouth while he looks down at the newspaper sitting on his desk in front of him. His dark, wavy hair looks messy, probably from pulling at it while lost in thought. Wearing an old gray t-shirt with the word Columbia written across his chest and faded jeans, he looks just as big and handsome as the day I met him. The years haven’t done anything to alter his starting quarterback body; if anything, he looks more masculine and seasoned with age.

  I hope our baby has his dark looks and not my boring blonde ones.

  When he hears me enter his office, the frown disappears immediately and

  a gorgeous smile appears, showing his perfect white teeth. He reminds me of a pirate sometimes when he smiles at me that way, with his tanned skin, dark hair, and glimmer in his eyes.

  As soon as he notices the tears on my face, he drops his glasses on the desk, stands up from his leather chair and makes his way towards me. His hands go to my shoulders.

  “Cathy, baby, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

  Looking up, the tears that were slowly flowing before begin to blur my vision as they fall in a torrent so fast and so strong that I can’t do anything but feel them inundate my face as they overflow my eyes. I can’t do anything but move between his arms and wrap him in a hug, tight and fierce. Yes. There is hope for us, after all. Our love is enough.

  It is enough.

  Ben wraps his arms around me, returning my embrace just as strongly and intensely, lowers his face close to mine and whispers, “Babe, talk to me. You’re scaring me. What’s the matter? Tell me so I can fix it. Shit, Babe…please.”

  I let go of his body, lifting my hands to cradle his face in between them. He truly looks concerned. Fear is written in the way he seems to be clenching his teeth, emphasizing how strong his jaw is. The frown that had disappeared when he heard me coming in is back, and he looks as if he is scowling. The half angry and half worried expression on his face makes a stupid watery giggle escape my mouth. The situation is growing more comical by the minute.

  “Baby…no.” Reaching out to smooth the temples of his lovely face with my fingers, I erase the scowl away. “No, baby. Nothing is the matter. Actually, everything is…oh my God. Ben, baby, I’m pregnant again.”

  Ben’s body becomes statue-still. The arms that are wrapped so tightly around my waist go slack. He is looking at me as if I am a ghost, not blinking and barely breathing, he seems to be in a state of shock. I’m about to shake him, to make him react, when I see the first glimmer of tears flood his dark eyes.

  He lets go of my waist and lowers his large body to kneel in front of me. Looking down at his dark head, I watch him as he lifts my light cashmere sweater, exposing my flat stomach to him, and gently and carefully leans over to softly place a tender kiss on the same spot where three babies have grown and died.

  This poignant moment, so full of love and hope, feels like a new beginning.

  A second chance for us.

  Clearing his throat, Ben comes out of his shock. “Are you sure, Cathy?”

  Nodding because that is all I can do, I hear Ben say, “Oh, babe. Really?” Nodding again as he looks up at me, he mumbles, “Shit…’Kay. We need to call Dr. Pajaree first thing tomorrow. Get you an appointment with her as early as possible. I don’t care if she is treating the President of the United States, she will make time to fit you in. You need to call Amy, too. She will understand if you can’t make it to work...fuck. Babe, shh. Don’t cry anymore. We will do whatever it takes to make it work.”

  “I’m so afraid, Ben. I want this baby so bad…”

  I’m crying so hard that I can barely make out Ben’s features as I feel his mouth whispering kisses all over my body. Moving away from his embrace, I kneel in front of him, and we stare at each other. As Ben watches me intensely his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, I see all the love he feels for me written in his face. I hope he can see the
love I feel for him reflected in my eyes as well.

  I love him so very much that it hurts.

  Thickly, Ben whispers, “Come here. It will be okay, babe. We will be okay whatever happens…”

  Out of nowhere, as he is bringing our bodies in an all encompassing embrace, an image of blue eyes crosses my mind, but I immediately bury it in the deepest confines of my guilty conscience. For the very brief moment that Arsen sabotages my mind, I am shocked to realize that not a day has gone by since I met him two weeks ago where I haven’t thought of him. But like I’ve done every time the thought of him enters my mind, I pretend that Arsen and what happened between us never occurred. I go back to pretending that he didn’t make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time; that he didn’t make my body hum with something as temptingly delicious as it was forbidden, bringing it to life. No. He has no right to intrude in my thoughts right now.

  As I feel Ben’s arms tighten around me, I make myself believe that Arsen and his words are meaningless and that the only reason why I haven’t been able to get him out my mind is because he will always remain an unknown. And I hate unknowns.

  Returning Ben’s hug, I believe my words, even if for a moment they sound like empty excuses to my own ears.

  I feel Ben’s breath on my mouth as he mutters that I make him so happy and that I am and will always be his Cathy just before he kisses me.

  We are going to be okay. Yes.

  The life growing inside of me will be able to seal all the empty holes I’ve carried with me for so long that not even Ben’s deep love has been able to fill since the first time it happened.

  God, I want this baby so bad.

  When the kiss ends, a flushed looking Ben pulls slightly away to look me in the eye, our bodies still glued to each other. The smile I observe on his face is so big that I can see his dimples peeking at me, taunting me to kiss them. Planting a quick kiss on my nose, Ben gives me with that naughty look of his, the one that means he wants to get lucky.

  “Hey, want to give the love couch a celebratory ride?”

  I laugh out loud as I swat his shoulder. “Seriously, Ben?”

  A smiling Ben lowers his nose to touch mine as he teases me, “Can’t blame a man for trying. By the way, did I tell you how fucking happy you make me? I love you, Cathy.”

  Chapter 7

  “Cathy…Cathy…Earth calling Cathy. Oh, hi. Hello. Yes, I am still here.”

  I laugh as I turn to look at Amy who is sitting across the table from me. Her long red hair is blown out to perfection in soft curls that seem like natural waves flowing down her back and over her shoulders. Dressed in a black suit and crisp white shirt, she is so gorgeous.

  It’s not fair.

  “Yes? By the way, I hate you. Only you could manage to look so freaking gorgeous in a plain black suit,” I say, smirking.

  She waves a piece of bread in front of my face before replying, “Please. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, blondie? Even I, a 100% penis lover, would totally do you. Pregnancy suits you, you know? Anyway, what are you thinking about? You seem lost in thought and haven’t touched your plate. I mean, shouldn’t you be eating for two and enjoying the perks of being preggers, instead of sitting there watching me stuff my face while daydreaming about baby socks or whatever it is you pregnant women like to think about?”

  “What makes you think I’m daydreaming about babies and baby gear?” I smile at Amy. Her light teasing about my pregnancy makes me feel better, almost as if it wasn’t such a big deal when in reality it truly is.

  I know it’s insane to put so much on this pregnancy, but I feel like my marriage and my own sanity are hanging by a very thin thread, and only this baby can save us, save me. Amy’s jokes help to alleviate the ever-present fear that lays dormant like a sleeping volcano at the back of my mind and in my heart. A constant fear that slowly and painfully gnaws my insides raw, yet, all I seem to be able to do is wish and pray.

  Getting my hopes up when I know I shouldn’t.

  “Due to your medical history of pregnancy losses, Cathy, I must be completely honest with you. You are considered a high-risk pregnancy. According to the date when you had your last period, you are now five weeks pregnant. We need to be very cautious this early in your pregnancy. Until your first trimester is over we are on shaky ground, so I want to see you every two weeks to monitor the growth of the fetus; you must avoid risky substances…” Dr. Pajaree’s words are still so fresh in my mind; I can hear her sweet voice telling me not to start thinking about baby names. So, yes, I need funny now. I need a lot of jokes.

  “Look, I have been stuffing my face with empty but delicious complex carbohydrates that according to my dentist will not only make my ass bigger but give me cavities, so the least you could do is tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours? Wait. Is my teasing bothering you? Because I’ll stop. You know I just do it to try and make you feel better.” The concerned and chastised expression on her face makes my smile grow wider.

  “Woman, I love your face. No, don’t worry about it. I was just thinking that Ben’s birthday is coming up and what that means.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought you knew. Ben and I got serious sometime around his birthday. It depends who’s telling the story, really.”

  “No, you hadn’t told me that. How many years now? I know you’ve been married for six years, right?”

  “Right. Six years married, but eleven together.”

  “That’s a long time to be with one person. In the past eleven years, I’ve been married twice and who knows how many men I’ve slept with in between and after. But if I were married to your hunk of a husband, I would probably still be married. I mean, I remember how amazing he looked in swim trunks when we went to Turks and Caicos to celebrate your birthday. Cathy, no joke. He was built better than my gym instructor and my instructor was rocking a pretty lickable six-pack, just saying.”

  I can’t help laughing. If I didn’t know Amy so well, I would totally think she had the hots for Ben. I couldn’t blame her if she did, though. Beautiful women, young or old, are always hitting on him, even when he’s with me.

  “Well, don’t waste your time. He only has eyes for me, or so he tells me every time some young intern hits on him.” I lean back in my chair and watch as Amy grins at me, acknowledging my comment.

  “You’re a very lucky woman. That man never, ever looks at another woman when you’re in the same room. It’s quite depressing actually. I mean, the way he looks at you even after all the years you’ve been together is as if you are the only person with a pair of breasts in the room. Hot and sweet.”

  “Mine are very small sadly,” I say, laughing.

  “I want what you have, though. Every woman wants that, a man who looks at her as if she were the only woman in the room. You’re so lucky to still have that.”

  As Amy tells me how fortunate I am, all I can do is smile because I am lucky. A week ago, I thought Ben and I were going through a very rough patch in our marriage, and then I took the pregnancy test that changed everything. The results brought hope into my life again, hope that we will be okay after all, hope that we can grow closer again, bridging the space between us, and hope that we will finally get a chance to have that family.

  Smiling, I realize that our future doesn’t look bleak. Yes, I may be scared shitless of the what ifs, but as I glance around the restaurant full of people, my hands go to my stomach. My body is not empty anymore. There is magic growing inside of me. There is life.

  However, I’m afraid that such hope won’t last forever. Cruel reality has a way of always catching up to you, no matter how fast or how far you run; reality has a way to destroy one’s hopes and dreams. Reality doesn’t caress your cheek, letting you know what’s to come. No, reality slaps you across the face harshly, reminding you that a dream is just that…a dream.

  The naïve part of me wants to believe that those feelings are gone, gone since I found out we are ex
pecting again, and that the love we feel for each other is enough. But the logical voice inside my head, the cynical one, tells me to stop fooling myself. It tells me that just because I’m pregnant, those issues, our issues, my issues, aren’t going anywhere. They’re still there, will always be there until I address them. They just happen to be concealed by a blanket made of happy feelings at the moment. A blanket that allows me to ignore the nagging sentiment that not everything is as it should be.

  ****

  After lunch, I drop Amy off at the office and drive to SoHo to pick up Charles Parker. He’s one of the most exclusive and expensive interior designers in the world. His clientele includes many people with famous last names, Hollywood A-listers, and members of the European Jet-Set. Charles has also been featured in every magazine geared for high-end homeowners and the very, very wealthy.

  Curious as to what kind of man he really is, I’m excited to finally meet him in person and take him to the future Radcliff residence. Based on the estimates he gave me for his services, I hope he’s amazing because I almost fell out of my chair when the numbers came out of his assistant’s mouth.

  “Yes, how may I help you today?” A very chic receptionist asks upon seeing me approach her desk.

  “Hi. My name is Cathy Stanwood. I believe Mr. Parker is expecting me,” I tell the drop-dead gorgeous brunette girl with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. She looks to be no older than twenty.

  “Mrs. Stanwood. What a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Natalie, we’ve spoken on the phone before.” I notice that Sexy Natalie speaks with a slight Russian accent that only makes her more attractive in my opinion.

  I smile. “Hi, Natalie. It’s great to finally meet you.”

  Her red lips smile back. “Yes. Would you like to have a seat for a moment while I let him know that you are here? Charles has been waiting for you.”

  “Of course.” I make my way to sit on a posh white leather couch that reminds me of one I saw not too long ago in Architectural Digest. As my hands caress the smooth texture of the leather, my eyes spot a newspaper on the coffee table in front of me. I open it and go straight to Page six, the gossip column.