Crashing Souls

by Cynthia A. Rodriguez

  “You don’t know that. Go. Find him. You have free time. Your project is nearly finished, and I refuse to let you work too hard during this pregnancy. Go.” Miranda reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze.

  “I booked a flight. It leaves this afternoon.” I shook my head. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “My dear,” Miranda starts, placing her hand on my cheek, “I find it best to always start with the truth.”

  •••

  The airport wasn’t as busy as I expected. I boarded the flight, settling into business class because I was pregnant and I didn’t want some giant of a man in my lap. I wanted first-class action, but I decided it wasn’t just me anymore and any extra money, no matter how much I had saved and invested, could be used for my little one.

  I’d only brought a carry-on bag, convinced that I could do what I needed to in twenty-four hours or less. After all, it only took 1.36 seconds to tell someone you were pregnant. I knew. I’d timed it. I’d almost timed how long it took to tell someone you still loved them. But when the plane went up, I felt my courage wane. If Dexter wanted to hear from me, he would’ve reached out to me. No, I told myself. I hadn’t done right by him the first time, punishing him for what I knew he had to do. This time I would show him that I was different. Better. Older.

  I slept the entire way, and when I woke, I shoved all trepidation aside. I grabbed my carry-on bag and hailed a cab. I gave the driver Tracey’s address, and when he pulled up, I paid him. I watched as he drove off, realizing I probably should’ve told him to stick around.

  I headed up the walk and rang the doorbell. When the door swung open, I half-expected whoever it was to shut the door right in my face. I deserved it. But when I saw Tracey hold her arms open for me to step into, I bawled right there on her steps.

  She led me in, grabbing my bag and settling me on the couch.

  “I haven’t heard from him,” I said, my tone pleading. Tracey shook her head with a frown.

  “Honestly, I haven’t either. It’s a shame because Molly could be going any day now.” She sat next to me, tucking my hair away from my face. “Why didn’t you tell him, honey?”

  Finally, finally I spit out the poison. I told Tracey all of the terrible things I’d thought. How I hated him for leaving me and how I felt he didn’t deserve to know Anna. He abandoned me, after all. And when Anna died, I thought it was God’s way of punishing me for all of the hateful thoughts I’d been thinking. How I blamed my alcoholism and poor decisions. And, at the very root of it, I blamed Dexter. Because if she hadn’t died from my actions, it was from his. A broken heart was more potent than any liquor. And I couldn’t tell him once she was gone because he’d hate me for keeping her from him in the first place. But what I tried to avoid ended up happening anyway.

  She sat and listened, her eyes filling. I couldn’t tell her that I was pregnant. I wanted Dexter to know from me, the way it should’ve been all those years ago.

  “Do you know where I could find him? I really…I have to talk to him.”

  “I think…if he hasn’t reached out to you, maybe he needs time to himself.” I knew she was torn. I stood and nodded, realizing Tracey likely wouldn’t help. I knew she was fond of me, but Dex was her blood.

  I turned to leave when she stopped me.

  “I’ll give you Ralph’s number. I think he’s been trying to get a hold of Dex too. Hang on.” She went upstairs and Dan stepped into the living room, a paper in his hand.

  “Find that boy and make him listen.” He hugged me tightly, and when I heard Tracey step back down, I shoved the paper in my bag.

  “I assume you got what you were looking for,” she said, pulling on her coat. I turned to see Dan’s retreating back and looked back at Tracey.

  “Sure, yeah.” I pulled out my phone, preparing to call a cab.

  “Come on, you. Let’s get you to the airport. Seems you have somewhere to be.”

  •••

  My second flight of the day wasn’t as peaceful. I was tired and cranky and sure that my little nugget wasn’t too happy either. But we landed safely in Seattle and I rented a car. It wouldn’t be too far of a drive—thirty-five minutes, tops. I pulled over several times, making it a longer drive, but my energy wasn’t what it used to be.

  I pulled up in front of a simple-looking home. I double-checked the address Dan had written and frowned. Dexter, with all of his money, could’ve afforded something nicer. Still, this was normal. It was just a house to him. I got out and knocked, aware that, while I’d emptied my bladder less than thirty minutes ago, it was time to go again.

  The door opened and there was Rachel, all smiles with an ugly-as-sin apron on. I shook my head. Nothing was wrong with her apron. I was dealing with my chronic jealousy. But I was still wondering why she’d been the one to answer the door.

  “Noa? Hi.” She offered her hand and I took it.

  “Where’s Dexter?” What I really wanted to ask was what the hell she was doing there. But I stopped myself. I wasn’t in the best shape to get into it with Rachel, and I didn’t want to spend the night in prison.

  “He’s, uh, at work. Did you want to come in? He should be here in another hour, and I know you’re coming from Seattle.” She stepped aside, and I let my nosiness get the best of me.

  “Sure,” I said. I’d left my carry-on bag in the rental. I jangled the keys nervously and walked in. Immediately, I knew Dexter hadn’t decorated this space. It was too plain and impersonal and nothing here looked like anything he’d pick out. Pictures of him and Phoebe were scattered throughout the space, and when I caught one of him, Phoebe, and Rachel, I wanted to smash it. I reigned in my annoyance and turned to her.

  “So…where’s Phoebe?” I wanted to start a conversation since I was already there and I honestly missed the kid.

  “She’s at daycare. I was in the middle of making a pie for Dexter. He adores my apple pie.” I looked around. That partially answered what she was doing here. But I wanted to know why. And why did she look so comfortable here, in the place that Dexter had once practically begged me to come to. Regret slithered up my spine, and my lips moved of their own accord.

  “Why?” I wanted to slap my hands over my mouth and simultaneously cover my ears. Because the look on her face, that embarrassed happiness, told me she was about to pull the pin from a grenade and toss it right at me. It was then, when she tucked her hair behind her ear with her left hand, that I saw the rock on her finger. Sure, she’d done it on purpose. But I couldn’t even hate her. Bitch. Well, I could a little.

  I held on to the nearest chair, supporting myself. If I passed out, she would win. She’s already won. I eyed her finger again and blinked back tears.

  “I live here now. Dexter proposed and, well, I said yes. So, I think the real question is, why are you here?” She was talking lightly, as if she were trying to make a child understand something incredibly easy for an adult to grasp. I looked into her eyes and I got it. This was Rachel. She was the sweetest bitch there ever was.

  I wanted to tell her I was there because I was carrying his child. His child. Not some child I roped him into adopting. I wanted to fight dirty and tell her he would never love her because he was made to love me. I wanted to tell her no illegitimate child would change that. But I loved Phoebe, and despite her not being his biologically, she was his in the most important ways. And I refused to fight for a man who’d taken off his gloves and gotten into another ring with another woman. I was left standing alone, as usual. Except I had my nugget.

  I turned on my heel, not looking back. I walked out of Dexter’s house, and I prepared myself to live a life without him in it.

  Chapter 36

  My belly was cute, I decided as I looked at it in the mirror. The breezy shirt I wore over it kept me from feeling like I was being sucked in by a cotton death trap. It was summer and the sun was shining, despite my wishing for rain. My air conditioner was on low, keeping me comfortable above the somewhat warm Seattle streets.
>
  My showcase had gone without a hitch, and I made Miranda a lot of money. She claimed it was never about that, but I felt I was a better artist when pregnant. Or maybe when I was emotionally destroyed. One of them had me painting like my life depended on it. Which it sort of did.

  I didn’t attend the showcase myself, something that people whispered about for weeks. I couldn’t face questions or speculation. So, I stayed inside, too afraid of what a nice jog would do to my nugget who’d grown more and more into a small turkey. I was nearing the seventh month, and I’d avoided so many things I’d done during my last pregnancy. I sat when I was tired, I ate healthy, I got rid of my cell phone. I kept the gender a secret. Anything I’d done last pregnancy was off limits. I hadn’t even set up the nursery yet, yelling at Miranda when she tried.

  “You have to realize that that baby is coming whether or not I set up the crib,” she tried to reason, but I wouldn’t be swayed. I sat shaking my head at the memory of that argument.

  There were dreams. And in those dreams, there were whispers. I knew who it was and I knew what he wanted. But I wanted to scream every time and blame Dexter. I’d tried. If only the Angel of Death knew how hard I’d tried. Instead, he reminded me of my loneliness until I woke up sobbing.

  There was a knock on my door, jarring me from my thoughts, and I yanked it open, already preparing my speech for Miranda.

  “Quit it with the nursery talk….” My words stopped and my jaw hung open when I saw it was Ralph in front of me.

  “What the fuck, Noa?” His wide eyes took in my pregnant belly while I took in his large frame filling my doorway. What the hell?

  “How’d you get in here?” I didn’t mean to sound like I didn’t want him here. But damn it, a warning would’ve been nice.

  “I let him in,” Miranda announced as she stepped around, rubbing my swollen belly in passing. “Hi there, baby baby.” She always sounded like an idiot when she tried to coo.

  I stepped aside and let Ralph in.

  “I’m suing Larry,” I said under my breath.

  Miranda ignored me and Ralph sat on my couch, looking like I told him the world was actually upside down and that meant that he was a girl.

  “Have you never seen a pregnant woman before, Ralph?” I asked with mock politeness. “Sorry, I haven’t had company in a long time. And I’m hungry.”

  Miranda walked back in and offered me an apple. I took it with a scowl.

  “Apparently I don’t count as company because I’ve seen her naked,” she announced and sat on the arm chair. I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. Miranda was a lady, the kind with class and a filthy mind to boot.

  “Would it be rude to ask you who the father is?” Ralph asked.

  “Yes,” Miranda snapped out. I rolled my eyes.

  “You know its Dexter’s.” We all stood there quietly, the hum of the air conditioner the only sound. I took a bite of my apple and sat next to Ralph.

  “He doesn’t know, Noa,” he said, and I knew I’d have to tell him everything. So I did. And his face reddened with anger. “That little dipshit.”

  I was taken aback. Ralph was actually on my side?

  “I mean, what you did was wrong,” Just kidding. “But he shouldn’t have left you to go back to Rachel.”

  I was going to ask it. The question was coming up like a sickness in my belly, determined to be let out.

  “Is he married yet?” It was quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

  “Not that I know of. I didn’t even know they were engaged.” He sat forward, and I knew this wasn’t the reason he’d come here. “Molly’s dead, Noa. Her funeral is tomorrow afternoon. You have to be there.”

  I dropped my apple and stood, quickly telling him where he could put his invitation.

  “You know she’d want you there, Noa. And, despite his shit way of proving it, Dexter needs you there. He hasn’t been the same since you guys split up.”

  “We didn’t split up,” I yelled. “He fucking left me! Again! To go be with Rachel, the sweetest bitch in the world.” I picked up whatever was nearest and threw it. My remote hit the wall and pieces flew everywhere. “This is what happens when I’m pissed off and hurt, and I have no way of releasing that. I can’t paint, I can’t run. I can’t have sex! What the fuck.” I sat back down, my arms crossing over my belly. Instantly, my hands went to the mound and I felt a hefty kick. My eyes, which were filled with tears of anger, quickly crinkled with joy. I grabbed Ralph’s hand and pressed it to where my nugget was having a field day.

  “Do you feel it?” I asked, careful not to let any gender slip.

  Ralph looked afraid, and I heard Miranda whisper that I was a psycho. I giggled and he relaxed.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “She’s superstitious. It’s a surprise,” Miranda announced with a sweet smile. I knew she wasn’t being sweet at all. It annoyed her to no end that I wasn’t preparing for this baby. In her mind, it was like the baby wasn’t even coming, like I didn’t love it or even want it. If only she understood. Although she’d been there with Anna, she hadn’t experienced it herself. It wasn’t something that could be easily explained.

  Ralph nodded and I let his hand drop.

  “I know you two have your issues, but you’d be welcome there, Noa. Please try to make it.” He took out his card and handed it to me. “Let me know if you need anything at all.” He hugged me before leaving.

  It felt wrong to shrug it off. He’d traveled all the way here.

  But seeing Dexter wasn’t what was best for me.

  Was it what was best for the baby? I wasn’t so sure. Having parents who couldn’t stand the sight of each other…I’d lived that life. My baby wouldn’t.

  “Let’s go on and pack you a bag,” Miranda said as soon as the door shut behind Ralph. It had to be the hormones. I didn’t hate her this much when I wasn’t pregnant.

  “No.”

  She shifted in her seat, preparing to argue with me. Only I was too drained to argue with her.

  “You’re going to take your time and think about it and finally decide to go. Why prolong the inevitable? I know you. And I’ve decided I’ll come along. I’ll be your caretaker.” She announced with a sincere smile. “I’ll even call your hot doctor and get permission.”

  “I can wipe my own ass, thanks,” I grumbled. She laughed and I couldn’t help but chuckle too. She was right. I needed to be around people again. I was turning into a monster.

  “We need to get you out of the house, you ornery old lady.” I laughed even harder.

  “Fine. Pack our shit, caretaker.”

  •••

  The next morning, after having gotten the go-ahead from my doctor, Miranda had us sitting posh in first class.

  “You do realize that the best hotel there is just shy of a two star, right?” I looked at her face, ready for the pucker of distaste. She simply nodded.

  “I made reservations at a lovely bed and breakfast. They have Wi-Fi. I’m not afraid of living like the other half.” I sat back and placed my sleep mask over my face.

  “That isn’t even close to how the other half lives,” I said with a snort. I pretended to be unaffected as I sat there next to a truly unaffected woman. It was easier with my eyes covered. Miranda couldn’t see the anxiety written on my face.

  I turned in my seat and fell asleep before the plane even took off.

  I woke up at the tail-end of the flight and saw that Miranda had the latest issue of Harper’s Bazaar open.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake.” She faced me and tossed her magazine aside. “Have you thought of any baby names? I have some suggestions, but I’ll save those for when you ask me my opinion.”

  There was that ingrained etiquette. But mixed with her mouthy ways, it wasn’t as smooth as it might’ve been.

  “Tell me your suggestions, Miranda.” I shoved my sleep mask in my purse. I hadn’t started carrying a purse until I realized how hungry I might be while out and about. Not that I was ever o
ut and about until I decided to go back home and mourn a woman who recognized me as the dead girl her dead son once loved.

  “Well, this lady has a nice name. The one who died. Molly is pretty for a girl. And, obviously, Dexter for a boy.” She sipped her coffee and I eyed it with envy. She held out the cup and I glared at her. She knew I wouldn’t take it. It wasn’t good for my nugget.

  “I can’t call the baby Dexter if it’s a boy. I would never be able to yell at him. I’d probably cry every time I said his name. Besides, Dexter doesn’t even know about the baby. That’d be a little strange.” Miranda opened her mouth to speak, but thankfully, the fasten seatbelt lights came on and a flight attendant approached, telling us to lift our trays and taking the coffee from Miranda. “Welcome to hell,” I said under my breath.

  She actually had the gall to look excited.

  We went through baggage claim at a slow pace. My feet hurt in my flip flops, which offered no support. But I couldn’t bring myself to shove the swollen things in shoes, so flip flops it was. When a minivan rolled up, I couldn’t help but laugh. She asked me what was so funny and I shook my head, my stroll down memory lane being one I took alone. It was raining heavily, much to my annoyance.

  When I’d told Ralph I was coming, he sent me all of the details. We still had another two hours before it began, so I told her to take us to the bed and breakfast. I’d begged Ralph not to tell Dexter I was coming and he agreed. It was my deepest hope that we’d either not see one another or I’d leave before he saw me. Unlikely, but it could happen. And it would happen if I had any control over the situation.

  I wasn’t here for him.

  Seeing him…it was going to affirm the need to stay away because I was so sure Rachel would be with him, and a perverse part of me needed to see them together to really move forward. The final nail in the coffin. I was constantly seeing Dexter in my thoughts. He was around every corner. He was a ghost in my bed, an apparition standing behind me whenever I looked in the mirror. I felt him even when I wanted to feel nothing. I worried that my need to be emotionless would lead me down a dark path once again, but my love for my child saved me in a way Dexter Andrews could not.