Unconditional

by Linda Rettstatt

  “Not...uh…in the strict sense.”

  “The strict sense? What the hell does that mean? You never bent over?”

  “You don’t have to be vulgar. As soon as I came to grips with the truth about myself, I told you. Meg, I’m truly sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “Well, you did.” I hung up.

  Chapter Eight

  On Monday morning, I rushed through the waiting room on the way to my office and smacked up against Nikki on her way out the door. “Jeez. Where are you going?”

  “I need to get my sweater from my car.” She looked me up and down. “You look like crap.”

  My chin quivered and I began to cry, something I hated and that I suddenly had little control over.

  Nikki’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. You look…tired.”

  I sniffled and, finding the box on the counter empty, dug in my purse for a tissue. “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, you don’t look fine. Did you sleep at all over the weekend?”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “But, have you looked at yourself?” Nikki persisted.

  Exasperated, I shouted, “I’m not sick. I’m pregnant!”

  I shouted this joyous news just as my first appointment, Gail Carson and her son, Jesse, walked into the waiting room.

  Nikki gasped. Gail smiled. Fourteen-year-old Jesse flushed and returned to his handheld game.

  I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath. “Okay, so everyone’s here. Let’s get this day started. Gail, I’ll be with you and Jesse in five minutes.” I dragged my briefcase and my fractured pride down the hall to my office.

  Seconds after Gail and her son left, Nikki flew into my office. “You’re pregnant?”

  “Yep. Do I have good timing or what?” I sighed. “I’m happy about the baby, but then I have all these other feelings about Thomas. This is not how I imagined this time of my life playing out, you know?” Tears once again threatened and I pressed fingertips to my eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Meg.” She sat on the edge of my desk. “You know you can count on me. Anytime.”

  I nodded. “I know, and I appreciate it. I’ve actually considered ways I could stay with Thomas and let him have is other life. For the sake of the baby.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “No, I’m not. I just don’t want to believe this. I want him to come for me, beg me to come back to him, tell me he was wrong and it was all a mistake.” I swallowed back tears and stood. “I’m taking a quick bathroom break before my next appointment.”

  At noon, Nikki delivered the files for my afternoon sessions. “You gonna stop for lunch? You’re eating for two, you know.”

  “Believe me, I know.” I sat back in my chair. “Have you done something with your hair?”

  “Depends. Do you like it?”

  I squinted to determine if I really saw a blue streak in her black hair. “Is your hair blue?”

  She separated the silky strands to reveal a wide streak of royal blue peeking out from the underlayers of hair. “Yep. I got it over the weekend. It was a toss up between this shade and hot pink. I thought blue would be more subdued for the office.”

  “Uh-huh.” At times like this, our nine-year age difference became apparent. At thirty-one, I’d begun to feel I could be her mother. “Come on. Lunch is on me. But I get to choose the place.” In the few short days I’d been aware of my pregnancy, I’d also learned that my little passenger did not like tomato sauce so much. “Let’s go to the deli.”

  Nikki fell into step with me. “So, what’s it like?”

  “What’s what like?”

  “Being pregnant. It must be awesome. You excited?”

  I considered the question. “Yes. I am. It’s not the best timing, but things like this happen in their own time.” Crap. I’m becoming Audrey.

  “That’s a good attitude. Positive.” She held the door for me to enter the deli.

  Apparently when you’re pregnant, people will do everything for you. I made a note of that fact. I could use it later, perhaps, after I informed Thomas of his impending fatherhood.

  Nikki elbowed through the lunch crowd and claimed a booth. “You sit down. I’ll place our orders.”

  I handed her a twenty with my order and slid across one of the red faux leather seats. I knew it is way too early to feel any movement, but I kept holding my breath and waiting for a flutter in my belly. I still had moments when my feelings about the baby were mixed. The previous night, I had ridden an express train through my emotions—happy, scared, sad, hopeful, anxious—five of the seven hormonal pregnancy dwarfs. It seemed like hours before the return train completed the circle to get me back from anxious to happy again.

  Nikki returned with our waters and plastic ware. “We’re forty-six. I’m gonna wait by the counter.” She disappeared again into the crowd as my cell phone rang.

  I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello.”

  Dr. Timmons’ nurse calling with my lab results. I did not have a sexually transmitted disease. I was, in fact, pregnant. She congratulated me and hung up. I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  The phone rang again and I thought she might be calling back because she forgot something, like maybe I was having twins. “Hello.”

  “Hello, Megan. It’s Francisco. I was hoping we could talk.”

  “I was hoping you’d drop dead. Wonder which of us will get our wish.” I paused. “We have nothing to discuss. If Thomas wants to talk to me, he knows where to find me.”

  “Actually, I’m calling to invite you to dinner this Friday. I wanted the three of us to talk.”

  Nikki placed two plates on the table and sat across from me.

  “This isn’t a good time.” This was becoming my mantra. It wasn’t a good time for a divorce. Not a good time for a baby. It was a really bad time to have dinner with my husband and his gay lover.

  “What would be a better time for you?” Francisco pressed.

  “How about when hell freezes over?” I snapped the phone shut and stuffed it back into my purse.

  Nikki stared at me. “Who was that?”

  “Francisco.”

  “What did he want?”

  I popped a potato chip into my mouth and crunched it loudly, more for the effect than out of hunger. “He wanted to talk over dinner. Just the three of us.”

  “He’s got balls.”

  I shuddered. “Please don’t remind me. He’s the one sharing my bed with my husband.” I forced a bite of my turkey club. The food stuck, and I gulped water to wash it down. I pushed the plate away. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “Let’s get out of here. I’ll get some take-out boxes.” Nikki wormed her way through the mob again.

  I tried not to cry. I was tired of crying. My cell rang once more, and I opened it. “I’m not interested in having dinner with you and my cheating husband.”

  After a pause, my father asked, “Meggie, is that you?”

  Shit. “Uh, no, wait a second,” I squeaked and held the phone away from my mouth. “Meg, it’s for you.” I paused, then cleared my throat and spoke in my own voice, “Hello?”

  “Who was on your phone talking about her husband?”

  “That was…uh…” I crossed my fingers. “Someone borrowed my phone, and she’s waiting for a call back. What’s up, Dad?”

  “Your mother and I are coming into town this weekend. We want to take you and Thomas to dinner. And Audrey, of course. How’s Friday night?”

  Oh, crap. “Uh…Thomas isn’t free on Friday. He’s going to be out of town on business this weekend.”

  Nikki had returned and stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  “Well, then, we’ll have dinner with you and your sister. What do you say?”

  “Uh…okay. I’ll let Audrey know tonight.” I bit my lip. They didn’t know about Thomas and me, and they didn’t know I’d moved in with Audrey. I’d simply told them to use my cell number to reach me.<
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  “We’ll call your sister. We want to see if we can stay with her for the weekend.”

  “Stay with Audrey? But her place is so…small. Her guest room has a twin bed.”

  “She sleeps in there when we visit, and we take her room with the queen. Unless we stay at your house.”

  “My house? Um…we’re…painting. It’s a mess, Dad. Audrey’s would be a better choice.”

  “Okay, then. It’ll be good to see you sweetheart. Let Thomas know he was invited. I’m sorry he won’t be able to make it.”

  “Okay, Daddy. See you Friday. I’ll come to Audrey’s after work.” I closed the phone and dropped my forehead onto the table. “My life is going to hell.”

  “What was that all about?” Nikki asked.

  “Let’s walk. I’ll tell you on the way.”

  Nikki gathered up our lunches and we made our way out the door. As we walked, I told her about my dilemma. “What am I going to do? I can’t stay at Audrey’s with my parents there. And I’m not ready to tell them about Thomas.”

  “You can stay with me. I have room.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I have a sleeper sofa in the living room. It’s really comfortable. It’ll be fun.”

  Fun. I wanted her optimism. I wanted her youth. Hell, I wanted the blue streak in her hair.

  Chapter Nine

  On Friday, I knocked on the door of my sister’s apartment as if I had not been living there. My father greeted me with open arms. “Meggie.”

  He’s a great hugger, my dad. Must be a genetic thing he’d gotten from Grandad. I held on tight, longer than usual. “Hi, Daddy.” My voice cracked.

  When we parted, he studied my face. “What’s going on? You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Happy to see you is all. Where’s Mom?” I stepped past him into the living room.

  My mother hustled toward me with her arms open and a smile on her face. “There’s my girl.” She wrapped me in a hug, her ample breasts squishing between us. They are, unfortunately, not something I inherited.

  “Hey, Mom. It’s good to see you.”

  She kissed my cheek and wiped off the lipstick residue with her thumb. Then she stared into my eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”

  I blinked. My mother had x-ray vision. She could see through walls, lies, and daughters. I was sure she would look into my eyes and see the tiny kidney-bean shaped embryo in my womb. I broke eye contact. “I’m fine, Mom. Long week. I’m a little tired. And I’m starving.”

  “We’re ready to go, aren’t we Abe?” My mother handed her coat to my father, who held it for her.

  Abe and Pauline Ritter had been married for thirty-eight years. For as long as I could remember, my father has held her coat for her, pulled out chairs for her, and deferred to her anytime they had a difference of opinion. I used to think he was a doormat. I came to understand that he just loved her. And would allow nothing to jeopardize that love.

  “Audrey, we’re going,” my mother called out, as if we’d leave her behind if she didn’t hurry.

  “Coming.” My sister tripped on her way down the hall, focused on fastening a button on her blouse.

  “You look nice, Aud,” I said. And she did. The green silk blouse showed off her eyes and complemented her auburn hair. She wore a hint of makeup, something she did only when my mother was in town and then only to avoid the critical assessment of how pretty she could be, if only.

  “Thanks, Meg.”

  Dad held the door open. “What have you girls been up to?”

  “Nothing much.” Audrey shifted her panicked gaze from me to my parents. I had assigned her the task of keeping the conversation away from me, Thomas, and anything about babies. “So, Dad, how about those Pirates?” she asked.

  “The government oughtta shoot ‘em all. Just blow ‘em outta the water,” my father pronounced. “Can’t even go on a cruise anymore.”

  Audrey frowned.

  I intervened. “I think she means the Pittsburgh Pirates, Dad.”

  “Oh. Well, if they win a game this season, it’ll be a steal, too.” He waited for the three of us to pass.

  We took my car, but Dad insisted upon driving. In his world, the man always drove. I handed over the keys, happy to sit in the back and relax.

  “This BMW drives like a dream, Meggie. Thomas sure knew what he was doing when he bought this car. We should get a Beamer, Pauline.” My dad had become a Thomas fan since the BMW purchase.

  My mother ignored his comment, turned around and peeked between the front seats. “Where did you say Thomas is this weekend?”

  “Uh…in Atlanta…on business. He feels terrible he had to miss seeing you.” I crossed fingers on both hands, certain they’d soon freeze in a permanently locked position.

  “That’s too bad. Well, we’ll see him the next time we visit.” She turned around again.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek.

  “We’re here. Where do we park?” my father asked as he eased the Beamer to the curb in front of the restaurant.

  I pointed to the valet sign. “Pull up over there Dad. The valet will take the car.”

  A young man in a beige uniform opened the door for my mother, then the back door for me. My father handed over the keys, issuing a warning to bring the car back without scratches or dents. Audrey opened her own door and climbed out on the other side.

  I hadn’t had dinner at Bastiglio’s for a couple of months. The last time had been with Thomas. And then we went home and had sex…and, apparently, made a baby. The following week, Thomas told me he was gay and wanted a divorce.

  I began to perspire and hyperventilate. As soon as we entered the restaurant, I excused myself and rushed to the restroom.

  Audrey followed me. “Meg? Are you okay?”

  “I wish people would stop asking me that.”

  “Well, you look pale and…damp. You have sweat on your upper lip.”

  “I’m not sure I can handle Italian food right now.”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot. Mom made the reservations when they arrived.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll order a salad, maybe some chicken. Go out there and join them before Mom comes to check on both of us. I’ll be right there.”

  I stared in the mirror and into my blue eyes, expecting them to change to brown because of all the shit I’d been shoveling out to my parents. I used the bathroom, washed my hands, and took a deep breath. Game time.

  The restaurant was not yet crowded. Six-thirty is early for Friday night dinner. Most people eat after the theater. I had no trouble locating our table. It was the one where my parents, my sister—and my husband and his lover were seated.

  I wondered if I could just disappear on the spot. If I closed my eyes and clicked my heels together and pretended the way I had as a child, would I become invisible?

  “Meg, we’re over here. And look who’s back in town?” My mother waved, delighted to announce that Thomas had apparently returned early from his business trip.

  Thomas sensed my terror. Or perhaps he simply read the horrified expression on my face. He smiled stiffly, walked over, and kissed my cheek. “Surprise.”

  I forced a smile. “It sure is. Oh, and look, your assistant has come with you.”

  Thomas leaned in close. “Let’s be civil and just get through this. I’m not the one who lied to your parents.”

  Want to bet? I nodded.

  My mother beamed. My father perused the menu. Audrey fanned herself with her menu and stared at me. Francisco looked confused, but perhaps he’d always looked that way.

  Thomas’s hand rested on the small of my back. It felt warm and familiar, and I wanted to cry. I picked up my wineglass. Audrey’s eyes widened, and she moved her head slightly from side to side. Remembering the baby, I set the glass down and reached for my water, taking a long gulp.

  Thomas occupied the chair next to me, and Francisco took the chair on his other side, next to Audrey. My father ordered three different appetizers for the table, then raise
d his glass. “Now that the whole family is gathered—you, too, Francis—let’s have a toast.”

  I snorted and covered with a cough when my father referred to Francisco as Francis.

  They each lifted a wineglass. I again picked up my water. Thomas eyed me suspiciously. “I’ll do the toast,” I volunteered. “Here’s to family. To…uh…the ups and downs that we all share, and…um…to…change…and…” I was suddenly wordless. Not speechless. There was a lot I could say. But I couldn’t find acceptable words for the current situation.

  I looked around the table, met by expectant stares. “Cheers.” I chugged the water, swallowing a lemon seed in the process.

  My mother frowned at me and then turned to Francisco. “So, Francis, what do you do for Thomas?”

  I choked, lemon water spraying into my sinuses. My eyes teared, and Thomas patted me on the back.

  “See, that’s why I’m drinking the wine,” my father said. “Water’ll kill you.”

  Francisco adjusted his silverware for the third time and replied, “It’s Francis-co, and I’m Thomas’s assistant.”

  “Yes, but what does an assistant do?” my mother persisted.

  Cooks his meals, irons his shirts, sucks his…

  “I guess you’d say I’m what used to be called a secretary.” He leaned toward Thomas as he spoke.

  My mother raised an eyebrow. Uh-oh, Pauline’s radar just kicked in.

  She shifted her gaze from Francisco to Thomas, then to me.

  Audrey wrung her hands nervously in her lap. Then she sat up and smiled. “What do you think of this weather?”

  I took the opportunity to lean close to Thomas and whisper, “They don’t know about us. And I’m not planning to tell them right away.”

  He whispered back, “You don’t think they suspect anything?”

  “No. Audrey won’t say a word.” I dug my nails into his thigh. “And if you tell them, I’ll make sure I get the house, all of our assets, and your bal—”

  “We have one veggie sampler, toasted ravioli, and spinach artichoke dip.” The waiter leaned between us to set down the last appetizer plate. “Will there be anything else?”

  I shook my head. “No. We have it covered. Don’t we, Thomas?”