by Brinda Berry
Shouldn’t he want me there with him? Aren’t I part of this life we’re building, joys and problems? His strained voice tells a story and I don’t want him to bear everything alone.
Marty and Cece drive me home and bring enough Thanksgiving leftovers to last weeks. “Let’s freeze this part of it,” Cece says. “The rest can go in the fridge if there’s room.” She smooths a hand over my hair like I’m a little girl.
I don’t protest. I’m lucky to have someone like her to love me. Marty walks back outside for a second load of food.
She opens the door of my fridge and eyes the packed shelves. “Can I throw out some older stuff for you?" She moves some takeout containers to the counter.
“Sure,” I answer, only half listening. My thoughts are still back at the restaurant.
I shudder at the thought of Ellen and the hate she spewed at me earlier. I know it wasn’t normal or lucid or rational. But still, it’s a hurt I haven’t felt in a long time—like an emotional beating. And how must Dane feel if he heard Ellen’s words? “Thanks. You do whatever you think is best,” I say.
I take a seat on a stool at the kitchen’s island bar and watch Cece delight in organizing the fridge. Mothers. I hope I’m never so old that I think that’s fun—like the homemaker’s version of Tetris.
Marty hovers at the side of the kitchen. Cece smiles at him. “Quit hovering. Go on into Josie’s family room and watch football until I’m ready to go. You can figure out her remote control. Men are born with that knowledge, right?”
Marty chuckles and shakes his head. “Call me when you’re ready to go.” He strolls across the room and leaves me alone with Cece.
“Dane was the best baby,” she says, her head bent into the refrigerator as she examines the sell-by date on some mayonnaise and then frowns. “I kept thinking every day that I was so darn lucky. My friends had those colicky babies who stayed up half the night. Not my Dane.”
“Hmm...” I say and rest my chin on my palm. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
“Ellen worked for us at the bar. Before she went all crazy. I never liked her. She flirted with every man. If you had a dick, you had her attention.”
My mouth drops open. “Cece!” I laugh despite the seriousness of our conversation.
“Oh yeah. Forgive my potty mouth, but I get angry just thinking about her. That’s not all. She lied every time she opened her mouth. Back then, she’d call in sick and then someone would see her partying three doors down. Marty suspected she even took money from the bar’s till. He couldn’t prove it, but we both know.”
I frown. “So did you guys fire her?”
“No. She fired herself. One day she didn’t show up for her shift. Next thing you know, it’s over a year later and she shows up with a baby.”
I glance down at my own swollen midsection. “Did she ask for her job back?”
Cece stands and looks me in the eye. “She asked us to take her baby and raise him. At first, I thought she was kidding. She didn’t really know us that well. But she did know we didn’t have children. She also knew I wanted a baby more than anything. She was right today when she said I was barren.”
“Oh, Cece.” I want to give her a hug, but she waves me off as if she can read my mind. “I’m fine. That was a long time ago. Today was a clincher. I’ll tell you that. I realize she gave me a gift. I do. But since then, she’s done so many horrible things that we didn’t share with Dane because I wanted to protect him. When Dane told me he’d wanted to meet her, I thought, “All right. He’s a grown man. But then she tells him she’s a diagnosed schizophrenic and puts Dane on all her medical paperwork. I don’t trust her. It’s just a way to entwine him in her life. So there. It doesn’t matter that she’s schizophrenic. She’s always been an awful person in my book. A person can only forgive so much. And she wanted to hurt me and I’m sure she’d hurt you.”
“It was scary,” I admit.
Cece throws out my mayo. Jeez. I needed that for turkey sandwiches. “I’ll bring you a new jar tomorrow,” she says and winks at me. “Promise. Anyway…I had Dane and Marty, and life was grand. Then Dane turns three and she shows up on our doorstep asking to see him. That was never supposed to happen. I was home alone. Marty was at a restaurant convention in Chicago. It’s as if she waited for him to leave.”
My insides roll, and I sit up. “What did she want?” Stupid question of the year. I’m sure she wanted to see Dane.
“I think she wanted to scare me.”
My heartbeats come faster. I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. “Did she ask to see Dane?”
Cece’s nostrils flare. “She was a wild woman. She didn’t ask to see him. She demanded. She forced her way inside our home, ranting about how I had taken things that were hers. Like today with you. Dane was already asleep. Those were the days before you carried a cell phone on you all the time. I was afraid to take my eyes off her because I couldn’t call the police and make sure she didn’t snatch Dane and run off with him.”
“I would’ve freaked out.”
Cece takes a deep breath. “She said I was only the pretend mother. That she would take my husband and take my home and take her baby back. It was crazy. I told her that my neighbor was coming over any minute and that she’d call the police.”
“Does Dane know about this?”
“No. It happened a long time ago. I wanted to get a restraining order against her. We had a legal document saying she had no contact with Dane. But I really wanted her to stay away from me. From my home. And after that point, I couldn’t go to a park or anywhere without holding tightly to Dane’s hand. I was always afraid of her.” Cece gives an embarrassed laugh.
“Back then,” Cece says, “I insisted that Marty file a restraining order. We did, but she went into a short-term mental facility around that time. Her life was too volatile and unpredictable. I didn’t tell Dane about my history with her because I thought I was protecting him. It was wrong, but I did it because I love him and didn’t want him to hurt.”
“Yes,” I whisper, my throat cinched tight. I inhale and exhale slowly. “Me, too.”
“Make him talk to you about today. Men. They bottle things up like they’re state secrets. But he’ll be worried.”
“About Ellen?”
She shakes her head. “No, honey. He’s going to be worried about you and the baby.”
“We’re fine.” I tilt my head. “Really.”
“It worries him, the hereditary part. Marty said they had a conversation where Dane mentioned his concerns. Dane says she’s all right when she takes her medication and goes to counseling. He told Marty to watch him for any signs he wasn’t acting normal as if you wouldn’t be the one to handle it head on. I know you. You’d be the first to confront him if you thought he needed to see a doctor.”
“Of course, I would.” I frown and swallow hard. “Why’s he not talking to me about this?” But then I remember that he did once, in the beginning when I told him about the baby.
“Dane doesn’t want you to worry. He’s always been like this, wanting to carry the burden for someone else. It’s his nature and he can’t help it. That’s why we love him so much.”
I’m silent, my chest tight and my eyes burning as if tears will spill despite my best efforts. It’s as if the events of the day crash into my reality.
Delusional Ellen wanted to hurt me with her awful words. But mainly, I think she hurt Dane today. I know it’s the schizophrenia talking, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
Fear and doubt can topple even the strongest man.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Suitable Husband
Dane
I’ve been awake for hours and the internet is the last place I should visit in my current state of mind. My laptop screen glows blue, but I stare at the dark kitchen wall in front of me, thinking hard. Too hard. Hours of worrying about my sanity and my chances of becoming like Ellen.
“What are you doing?” Josie’s soft voice asks from behind me
.
I suck in air. She’s going to look at my screen. My fingers twitch, and I give in to closing the laptop. Well, that looks damn guilty.
I rub my face. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Come back to bed.” She comes up behind my chair at the table and leans her belly against my back. Propping her chin on my shoulder, she examines the closed computer.
I tap a finger on the lid, then open it back so she can see the article.
As if I need to say it out loud, I read to her.
“Children of individuals diagnosed with schizophrenia should be aware of signs of the disease. Onset of schizophrenia is rare in childhood and usually manifests around age 16 and as late as age 30. Men are more likely to show signs earlier than women.”
“What if I end up like Ellen?” I say, my tone confrontational. I want to hear her answer because I have arguments for every one of them.
She stiffens slightly. “You won’t.”
“You don’t know that. What if it happens when I’m twenty-seven? Just because I know I’m fine now doesn’t mean a thing. The delusions and paranoia could sneak in and take over without anyone noticing.”
The thought ticks like a macabre clock in my head. The damned thing started ticking when I found out about Ellen’s diagnosis and hasn’t stopped.
“Stop it. You’re worrying about things that haven’t happened. May never come to pass.” She smooths a hand over my hair.
I hesitate and measure my next words. Taking a deep breath, I mutter, “I’m worried about everything. The future. You and the baby.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. Don’t you know me well enough to realize I can take care of myself?” She leans her head against my cheek and soft strands of hair tickle my face. She smells like fresh laundry and her coconut-scented lotion.
“Okay. But go along with me. What if it happens to me?”
“Then we’ll get you some help.” Her arms tighten around my chest.
“And what if I refuse? What if I can’t tell anything is wrong with me? I want you to make me two promises.” I close my eyes and swallow hard.
She steps to my side and turns my face, forcing me to open my eyes and look at her. Cupping the sides of my face with her palms, she nods and kisses the tip of my nose. “What are they? I have to know what it is first.”
“Promise.”
Her eyebrows draw together. “What is it?”
“If you sense, that it’s happening—that I’m manifesting the symptoms—you tell my dad. You go straight to him. You’ll have enough to deal with and I’m afraid you’ll let your emotions hold you back.”
She stares into my eyes and after a long, serious minute, she nods. “Okay. I promise. You said two things. And the second?”
“You walk away from me. Because it’s not a curable disease. Once it happens, I’ll make your life a living hell.” I look away from the anger in her eyes. Can she tell it’s the last thing I want? It doesn’t matter. It’s the one thing to keep my family safe. There’s no way this won’t be an argument, but I’ve put it off for too long.
Her hands shake as she drops them from my face. “Are you crazy?”
Poor choice of words on her part. “This is the sanest solution for us. I need to know that you and the baby will be fine no matter what happens to me.”
“You think I’d desert you at a low point in life, when things aren’t going like we plan? When you’re sick? I told you that day in the cabin that it’s no different from finding out that you have a heart condition. It’s a brain condition. Don’t you get it?”
“Don’t get so upset—”
She steps back even farther and her face reddens. “Don’t tell me what to do. What a crappy thing to ask of me.”
I stand and shove my hands into the pockets of my pajama bottoms. “I told you from the beginning that this worries me. I’ve never been diagnosed, but I’ve never been evaluated. How do you know I’m not one day away from having a fucking meltdown of Ellen proportions? You think you would live with me? Do you know how frustrating it is to care for somebody like Ellen? I tried to stand by her and look where it’s gotten me. She’s dangerous. What if she’d hurt you yesterday? Or the baby or my mom?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Tears stream down her cheeks. I know why. It’s finally dawned on her that I’m right.
“I’m being smart and thinking ahead.”
She balls her fists and groans. An angry sound as if she’d like to tackle me. “No. You’re not being smart and you’re not thinking clearly. You’re pushing me away because something happened that scared you. It scared me too. All right? But traffic scares me. Having this baby scares me. Living without you scares me.”
“Calm. Down.” I close the distance between us because now she’s shaking. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Josie this angry. And I’m the cause of it.
She shakes her head and takes steps toward me. “What? I shouldn’t have told you about the baby? Wishing I’d given you an easy way to keep your distance?”
“No. Of course not.” Where the hell did that come from? “You’re not listening. This has nothing to do with the baby. I mean…it does, but not like that.”
I’m quickly falling into quicksand.
She puts her head down and stares at the hardwood. “I don’t understand how we’ve moved from being happy together one minute to this. There has to be more. It’s what I’ve been afraid of since day one—that you really don’t want to be with me.”
I grind my teeth in frustration. “I want to be with you. More than anything. But I’m also not a selfish bastard. I’m telling you what I want and expect you to respect my wishes because you care about me,” I say. “It’s why I used to hope you’d find someone who would give you everything you deserve without a chance that it would all go down the tubes. If it does go badly, I want you to have an out. I want you to go on and get married to someone without my issues.” I don’t know why I said this last line. It lances through my chest because Josie might decide she’s better off with someone else. I’ve just given her an out.
“Oh that’s just great. You’re so scared of this…you’d throw us away. You’d want me to get married to someone else?” Her voice catches on a sob and I attempt to drag her into my arms, but she’s not having it. She presses her palms flat against my chest.
“You’ve got it all wrong.”
“No. You know, funny that you bring up marriage with someone else. I’d marry you in a heartbeat. I’d have married you the day after we slept together.” She gulps. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember and it’s always something. Either you didn’t want me in that way when we were younger or now you keep me at arm’s length with this bullshit.”
“You know I love you.” My stomach twists that she doesn’t realize it. How can she not? Doesn’t she see I love her more because I would let her go if something bad happens?
I grab her arms gently and try once more to pull her close. She slaps frantically at my hands.
I’m startled by her actions. She beats a fist against my chest, and I stand still while she does it twice more. “Damn you,” she says in a voice barely audible. “I need you to leave. I need you to want me no matter what. If something were wrong with me, would you desert me? Ever? If you think that’s how love works…” Her words come between gasps and she wrenches herself free of my arms. “I’d like you to go. Go home. I need some space.”
Her words don’t register at first. Then I replay them in my head and see her expression. She’s serious. My lungs struggle and I pull in air like a drowning man taking in water. “I’m not leaving.”
“The hell you aren’t. Either you leave or I do.” She glances down at her body, belly swollen and clothed in a nightgown. “I want to be alone to think.”
My skin feels too tight. My throat works to swallow. I’m afraid to walk out the door. More afraid than I was when I saw Ellen on a rampage in the kitchen with her and Mom. “Butterfly. Don’t make me leave. Please.”
<
br /> She wipes the back of her hand against her red, tear-stained cheeks. “I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Days? Don’t do this.” I will her with a hard stare to change her mind. I’ve always been confident in my ability to weather any storm, but I can’t do this. Did I know before tonight how dependent I am on her?
“I can’t think about what you’ve asked me to do if we’re together. Right now, there’s no way in hell I’d say yes. If you want me to change my mind, I need time to think.”
I kiss her cheek, the skin hot and wet. My heart begs me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness, tell her I don’t want anything I’ve said.
But the heart’s not logical—something I’ve known since the first day I looked at my best friend and realized I loved her. That’s it. I love her and would do anything she asks.
“Okay.” I let my hands fall to my sides. “I’ll get some of my things. But please call me if you change your mind or need me. Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever. I’ll be waiting.”
And then she lets me go.
I spend three sleepless nights in my bed, my pillow a stranger to me after the months of sleeping at Josie’s. Finally, morning dawns with dark rainclouds on the horizon to exactly match my mood.
I shower and dress, then plan a quick call to Dad on my way out the door. Harper and Leo are still in Texas at her parents’ house and I need someone at Dastardly’s to open the doors.
Pressing Dad’s number, I continue walking and get into my SUV. “Morning. Do you mind covering at the bar for a few hours?”
“I can,” he answers. “Everything okay?”
I hesitate for only a beat. It’s not like he needs to hear about my problems. If I were to tell him about the demands I made to Josie, he’d be the first to say I need my head checked.
But I know I’m doing the right thing. Once Josie thinks it over, she’ll come around.
I step into my vehicle and start the engine. “Fine. I need to check on Ellen. She called and asked me to come.” I fail to add that it’s like going for a root canal—one of those visits you have to make and dread like hell.