Sold on Christmas Eve

by Juliana Conners

  Should I expect him to suddenly be responsible and caring? It’s silly.

  This time, the debate in my head isn’t working so well to cheer me up.

  For some unknown reason, my heart is broken. Shattered into a kaleidoscope of a hundred lifetimes of pieces, it has broken into thousands of irreplaceable shards, all of which I leave on the parking lot floor this evening before I’m to embark on pre maternity leave.

  As I open my car door, I don’t even bother to wipe the tears from my eyes. They are puddling up too fast. Simply put, I can’t contain the heartbreak and the utter aloneness I felt at this moment.

  Chapter 32 – Carolina

  Friday and Saturday pass. It’s official: I’m on an early maternity leave. My firm offered that option as part of its super sweet benefits package to pregnant women who want to rest up during their last few months of pregnancy.

  I didn’t need to, but I wanted to take an extended leave of absence. I thought that this would be the perfect way to do it.

  Martha Grecco is coming to visit. It is something I have so looking forward to. Some of my family are also coming to visit. It will be exciting.

  I just don’t know how I am going to get over the fact that this will indeed be me and only me raising this child. As I watch the little chimes that hang over the crib in the new nursery, I can’t take it anymore. I call Erin.

  “Hey. So, I am sorry that I left you so abruptly the other day. It’s just been incredibly difficult— an annihilation of sorts.”

  I grab a few grapes off the fruit bowl on my counter and stuff them in my mouth as I continue my rant.

  “It wasn’t you. It was everything else. My feelings, his lack of caring, his aloof attitude, Gina-the-bod, my severe case of heartburn…”

  “Carolina, Carolina. No, stop. Look, first of all, what? It’s me. We’re cool. And second, I’ve been meaning to call you. Garrett has come out to the reception area almost hourly since Friday with these weird stream of consciousness thoughts regarding you.”

  My heart leaps despite my brain telling it to settle down.

  “I mostly ignored it because I told you, I’ve always thought he was carrying a torch,” she continues. “But then he said something like, ‘Carolina. Did you know? I mean did you know?’ Of course, I looked at him blankly. And then he added, ‘that she was pregnant? I mean did you know that already? So strange. She must be married or in love or maybe back with her ex.’”

  I hold my breath as Erin continues.

  “I responded, ‘Sir, are you asking me that? Because I don’t know. That’s simply too personal.’ He said, ‘No, no, of course not. But she is what? Four or five months, yes?’ And again, I rebutted, ‘Well maybe something like that. I mean close. She carries well. Who knows, really?’ And he pressed, ‘Well, she certainly can’t be more than five months. My sister was a walking blimp at seven months.’ Of course, I said, ‘That’s not sexist or anything,’ but he ignored me and said, ‘So yes, I am sure she is about four months. Well, good then. I mean, good for her. She’s a lovely girl, lovely.’”

  Finally, I blurt out to Erin, “Lovely? Oh, he wasn’t calling me lovely when his cock was in my mouth.”

  “Cari, please. Some decorum, darling, please.”

  “Sorry. It’s the hormones. Well then, he knows, I guess.”

  “Sure, he knows, but you are missing the point, as you often do. He is obsessed. He did nothing but talk about you all of Friday. And, I have to say, there was a moment when he seemed concerned if you were indeed farther along—which, if I go there and address that pink elephant in the room, no disrespect to your state of roundness —would make it his! You might reconsider your lie of omission.”

  “Oh, Lord. You are such a soap opera. He’s not. He is such a self-absorbed cretin, he would never think it was his. It’s okay. I’m not teary anymore.”

  “Fine. I think you are painting him with a broad brush of ‘every other guy’ and a side of souped-up raging hormonal imbalance. But have it your way. I still say, the man has fallen and he can’t get up, and you could be the only one to retrieve the poor boy’s shattered heart, but all right.”

  I snicker to myself at the shattered heart concept and then answer politely, “I love you, Erin. I need to take a nap. We’ll talk in the morning, and I will keep you posted.”

  Chapter 33 – Carolina

  At the law firm on a blustery Tuesday, days after the fall of my heart, Erin holds it down for me as the true friend I need her to be. She had called me all day Monday and reported the goings-on with Garrett. At one point, she had me convinced that he might indeed have fallen in love with me.

  I want it. I have to admit it. It is so bad that I can feel my heart beat just recalling seeing him again after so many months. My stomach throbs with anticipation, as all the sexual feelings that I’d once felt come rushing back, even in my advanced state of child carrying.

  All weekend after seeing him, I would find myself fantasizing about his touch— how he touched me, where— or the way he smelled. It is the perfect scent of a man. Every time, I’d inhale with complete rapture and then open my eyes to the reality of a baby bump.

  Somehow, though, it would all flood back. I’d recall the way we couldn’t resist the pull of each other, the thick chemistry that had him throwing me up against a door one night several months earlier— pre-baby— while we worked late. It was the hottest I had ever felt about any man, so hot that I could call it up at will in my memory, and it would feel like it was happening in the here and now.

  But on this cold rainy morning, even with the recollection of the heat of Garrett taking me in his arms, his smell, his thrust up against my body so present for me, it all seems eerily far away now. Not that it has lessened in intensity at all. If anything, it is more powerful.

  Maybe now it has given way to real feelings in places, but it still burns hot. I’m not sure how the change was showing up. I just want him. The thought of him is ubiquitous as I recline, hoping that the literal fog of the day and the fog that covers me will lift.

  Then, later in the morning, Erin calls me, quite panicked.

  “Carolina, it’s me. I can’t talk long, but he has made some sort of decision about you, I think.”

  I grunt.

  “No, stop, I seriously know it. It seems the partners are thrilled about him and honestly, Cari, and don’t just shrug this off, I think it’s because he isn’t dating anyone else. All he does is talk about you and—”

  Suddenly, she drops the receiver onto the desk but doesn’t hang up. I can hear most of the sounds in the background. Just then, I hear Garrett walk up…

  “Oh, hello, Garrett. Can I help you?”

  “Did you need to finish your call? I can wait.”

  “Uh, my call? No, not at all. It was my sister. She’s always bothering me about her son. He’s needy. Not sure why she seeks out my advice. I tell her I’m working, but family, for cripes sake, they just can’t seem to meet my expectations you know…”

  “Okay, I don’t need all that,” I hear Garrett say. “I simply wasn’t sure if you needed to finish the call.”

  “Right, and that would be a firm ‘no,’ Garrett, I do not need to finish the call. By the way congratulations on—”

  Just then, I can hear the door being knocked open and a lot of people coming into the office.

  An old geezer hollers, “Garrett, Garrett my boy, we always knew you had it in you.”

  There are sounds that sound like people slaping him on the shoulder.

  “You did it my boy.”

  Erin grumbles under her breath, “As I was saying, congratulations on the deal.”

  The geezer— it has to be Garrett’s dad, Lester— barks, “So, how does it feel? The new branch has one fine co-managing partner. Garrett, you ought to be proud. It was a long haul, but you have truly shown your grit and your worth.”

  Garrett grumbles, “I didn’t know I was being tested.”

  I can hear his oh so familiar voic
e answering them.

  “Well, thanks gentlemen but I, uh, I’m off to a big meeting. The work never stops. So, we’ll celebrate some other time.”

  Erin’s voice sounds frantic, which is rare.

  “I’m checking the computer, sir,” she says.

  “Erin, can you get me the address please?”

  “The address, sir? Yes…”

  “The Abbott Firm? Wasn’t it on Carolina street?

  I hear Garrett and I fall back on my bed. Is he talking about seeing me? It couldn’t be, even though it sounds like some kind of code, to pretend he’s talking about an address when really he’s mentioning my name. And honestly, the voices are kind of muffled. I start to frantically text Katie.

  I can hear duck sounds croaking in the background, and I know they are from Erin’s cell phone that is undoubtedly lying on the desk. My text signals. She must turn her phone off quickly— we’re not supposed to use cell phones in the office— because they stop.

  Suddenly, it all dawns on me. Erin must have caught on to Garrett’s cryptic code at the same time I did, and I can picture her rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of this “covert” code in front of the partners. After all, they all know my name. I’m sure Erin thinks it’s silly and that Garrett’s cover is just abominable, but she obliges him anyway.

  “Lead and University,” she says, giving him the crossroads of my townhouse. “I’ll text you while you are in route.”

  “Thanks, Erin. You’re the best. I’ve got to be off to my meeting now, at this other firm. Goodbye, gentlemen.”

  Just as he says that, I hear the receiver slam down, and all the voices go silent while I uselessly yell, “Erin, Erin is that me? Is it me he is talking about?”

  Nothing. Now in a complete state of largeness— my pregnant girth is overwhelming, at least to me— and utter terror, the thought that he might be heading my way is all too all encompassing.

  I start running around the house in a panic. And there it is finally. If the birth isn’t going to be a stark reality check, this is. I can no longer deny what I’ve been desperately trying to bury or the reality of the conversation that needs to take place.

  Garrett is the father, and he deserves to know that. Moreover, I have been lying to myself about the deep nature of my feelings for this gentle soul. Is he a player? Yes.

  Many times, I have wondered how I could have succumbed to such weak come-ons and one-line innuendoes. But the truth is, we had a deep connection. He is a loving person with some real damage, something I can relate to, certainly. And he is finding his own worth. Been there.

  I want to hug him and say, “Yes, Garrett, this beautiful mistake happened.”

  But when you’re walking around with a giant basketball for a stomach, everything just becomes that much more awkward and complicated. Nausea and fear are welling up within me, in that order.

  I sit at the foot of my bed, inhaling deeply so that I can center myself. I will tell him. I will tell him!

  I had decided that I should make it abundantly clear that I would not expect anything from him— no child support, no emotional support. If I was to tell him, that would have to be the qualifying story.

  I shake my head in disbelief. How did I get here? Well, besides the obvious? How had it come to this?

  Every time I’d make the decision to approach this practically, my heart would break a little more. The truth is staring me in the face. I want more. My heart wishes we could be together, but I’m not about to compromise my integrity.

  Awaiting what seemed like the longest hour of my life, I run the shower water. A hot shower is all I can do right now to soothe my advanced state of grief and pregnancy. I figure it should be at least thirty minutes before Garrett arrives.

  And then I go even further with the conversation in my head. Who said I have to let him in my home? As the hot water runs over my face, I can no longer discern the tears from the shower spray. That’s a good thing.

  Then, I begin thinking about him, about the first time, about all the ways he makes me feel. I caress my stomach as I reminisce. It had been so late that first night we were together. I remember planning and trying so fervently to remain professional.

  Yes, he was coming on strong, but I was sure I could withstand his advances. It was simple, or so said my practical mind. I would drop off the papers to his office and leave.

  But he had that thing over me. Suddenly, it was like I was right back there, looking up coyly at him as I licked his penis and he groaned. He was crazed almost. I had never enjoyed giving a man pleasure more. I felt like I could do no wrong.

  I remember getting up and assuming, Okay we’re done. We caved, but it was fun and it’s over. And then he had grabbed me so passionately.

  “This was about you, remember? If I can only hold you once. I am not letting you go that easy.”

  As I let the water wash over me, I was right back there.

  He threw me back onto the chaise and pulled my skirt off.

  So naked, so vulnerable, not just physically, but in every way— like now.

  It was so dangerous. I loved it. Even as I tried to get away, and I jumped up, he pulled me down and went down on me with such conviction. I surrendered. I was exposed, and more than just sexually. It was raw and primal. There was no going back.

  Then, right there in the shower, I began sobbing. I had no plan. I had no power over this man. He had me. He had all of me. He still does.

  I can kid myself with my bullet points and my internal mumbo-jumbo, but he is going to win and I know it. I am powerless in his presence. Not that I feel powerless as a woman, not a victim by any stretch, but truly I love him and that can make anyone feel weak.

  And when two people are so drawn to each other, the magic is that the control goes out the window. For me to stand here, ironically naked in this shower, and lie about the fact that I would have any control over this man in person while he is in my home, is a joke.

  I wipe off the final drops of water and face myself in the mirror. I am going to have a baby. Why am I making this a bad thing? It isn’t. It’s beautiful.

  I had just dreamed a different dream for myself, first with Jake, then with Garrett. Truly, more with Garrett, even though that makes no sense. But I’d felt like we’d known each other for so many lives. He is like my other half. How is it then that two perfect mirrors of each other did nothing but repel one another?

  After lathering my body with cocoa butter, I slip into the jeans that still make me look like I have a figure. My boobs are now huge— a good thing— and they are all natural. Take that, Gina! Garrett might not be sure what to make of my pregnant belly, but I’m sure he will like the large breasts that are also a result of it.

  Just as I am putting the finishing touches on my makeup, I hear a knock at my door. I run to the front. The plan was obviously to act like this was a total surprise.

  “Who is it?”

  “Um, Carolina? Hey, it’s Garrett. May I come in?”

  “Garrett?! Weird, I wasn’t expecting you. Was there a problem with the drop off?”

  “No, no Carolina. Um, may I come in? Sorry for not calling, but, um… well, I am standing out in the hall. Would it be possible for us to talk inside?”

  I think I’ve made the “surprise” element convincing enough, so I unchain the lock and open the door.

  “Uh, hi. Come on in. Would you like some tea? Sorry, I don’t have much. I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “No. God, no. That’s fine. Look I won’t stay long. May I sit down?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. Sorry. Sit. Sit, please.”

  He smiles and looks around. He seems to be looking at framed pictures on my mantle. If he is looking for evidence of a man, the sperm donor, he isn’t going to find it in any pictures on my wall.

  “So, how have you been?” he asks me. “You look great.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “No, really. You look beautiful.”

  “Garrett, I think we shou
ld cut to the chase. It’s obvious you know I’m pregnant. Is that why you’re here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look—”

  “Carolina—”

  “No, you go first.”

  “No, I’m sorry I cut you off. You were saying.”

  “Look, Garrett. It was a mistake. I never intended for this to happen, and I don’t expect anything.”

  Garrett nods fervently, unaware of where this is going, it seems. At least it looks that way from the agreeable stance he is taking. It was like he thinks I am talking about someone else’s baby.

  “I mean, you don’t have to provide financially or care for the child or even give me any emotional support…”

  “Wait, what? Back it up. Why are we talking about me? Wait. How far along are you?”

  “Six months.”

  Garrett’s faced drops.

  “There has been no one else, Garrett. It’s yours.”

  A heavy silence fills the room. I had never experienced a silence like this. It isn’t the kind where two people are so comfortable with each other that no words are necessary. It isn’t the dreaded thump of silence that happens when one party is blindsided by unexpected or devastating news.

  It involves an inexplicable, automatic love. The kind that is personal. The kind that envelopes most of us when we find out we are about to be parents. But having delayed the news for him, I find it so strange. He isn’t finding out with me, and he isn’t at all reacting like I thought he would.

  I stare into his eyes, which hadn’t found a focal point yet. I remain entirely still, not wanting to impress upon what he wants to say. I want it to be organic. I want whatever he says next to be important and from the heart, whether it is bad or good.

  I wait.

  Suddenly, he inhales one short, shallow breath and slumps in exhale. He finds his focal point. It is on my stomach. Then, just as he does, I notice his eyes are welling up with tears. I allow a small smile and then he speaks.

  “Mine. I had hoped. I had so hoped. I had my speech prepared to wish you well on your new life with whomever and his child… but I had hoped.”