by Cd Hussey
The stress of all the little things piling up on my to-do list is easily shoved aside as I step into the doctor's office to confirm what I know in my heart to be true.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sarah greets me like an overexcited puppy when I return from the doctor. I'm almost afraid she's going to piddle on the floor if she doesn't calm down.
"Well?" she probes as I climb the stairs to the front porch. Her house sits above the street, with at least twenty-five stairs between the sidewalk and the front door.
I wait until I've reached the top stair before responding. Based on the half-empty bottle of wine sitting next to a nearly empty glass of said wine on the table wedged between two oversized wicker chairs, she's been busy since she got home from work.
"A little pre-dinner drinking?"
"Pshaw. The wine is dinner."
I laugh. I've had many dinners like that.
"Well?" she probes again.
I plop in one of the chairs, the resin wicker creaking even though the deep red cushion absorbs my landing.
Pushing the wine aside, she leans across the table. "What did the doctor say?"
She lets out an excited squeal when I turn to her and she sees my expression. If my smile is as wide as it feels, it must be threatening to take over my face.
"Confirmed. I'm definitely pregnant."
She squeals again, jumping out of the chair and hugging me. Her embrace is so tight I feel like my head is going to pop off.
"Oh my God, Andrea, that is so awesome!" she says as she releases me and returns to her seat. She tops off her glass of wine and holds it up. "I wish you could drink a celebratory glass of wine with me."
"Even if I could, I wouldn't want to celebrate too soon. Nothing's wrong now, but unfortunately, I'm nowhere near the edge of the woods. I don't want to jinx it."
"What do you mean?"
I retrieve the pamphlets from my purse and spread them out on the table. The titles alone are ominous: "High risk pregnancy", "Pregnancy after 35, understanding your risks", "Miscarriage, the unspoken threat for the older mother to be". The last one makes me physically shudder.
Sarah picks it up. "Wow, what a downer."
"I know. I get what my doctor was going for when she gave them to me. She wants me to be prepared for the worst, but I could have done without."
She returns the glossy paper to the table, flipping it over so the title side is down. "Well, try not to worry too much. I know everything is going to be fine."
"I hope so. I'm trying to stay a bit detached, just in case. You know?"
Sarah reaches over and squeezes my hand. "I know. Still. Don't stress."
I hold up another pamphlet, the one specifically about stress and the danger it poses to your pregnancy. "I won't. See?"
Sarah laughs. "Jesus. Is there one in there about not walking into traffic too?"
"Surprisingly, no."
Abruptly, she stops laughing. "Holy shit. Is that Jim?"
I jerk toward the direction she's frowning. Sure enough, headed straight for us is my ex-husband.
Physically, he looks the same as I remember, with dark-rimmed hipster glasses, light brown hair puposefully tosled, dark wash jeans, converse high-tops, plaid button down long sleeve shirt… Emotionally, he looks like a stranger.
Once upon a time I found his "I'm a rebel" mode of dress sexy. Now he just looks like he's trying too hard.
I blink twice, just to make sure my eyes aren't deceiving me. "Jim?"
"I know I should have called," he says as he begins to climb the concrete stairs leading from the sidewalk with unabashed confidence, "but when I found out you were back in town I had to see you."
"Since you don't have my number that might have been a challenge."
He reaches the first landing and continues to climb without hesitation. "There is that."
"How'd you find out where I'm staying?" I sound snippy and suspicious, which is exactly how I intend to sound.
"Your mom told me."
I resist the urge to sigh. God, did I tell her that too?
Oh shit, what else did she tell him?
"What do you want?"
He finally pauses at the foot of the porch stairs. "Can I come up?"
A large part of me would like to simply shove him back down the stairs. I glance at Sarah, who makes a face but doesn't say no. "I suppose."
I guess I'm going to be an adult about this and not spend the night in jail for assault. It's somewhat disappointing.
"Well, hello Jim, how are you doing?" Sarah sounds like a machine, her pleasantries are so rehearsed.
"Hi Sarah. Hey, do you mind if I talk to Andrea alone?"
"Only if she doesn't."
I sigh. "It's fine."
"You sure?"
I glance at Jim. I'm not sure exactly how I feel seeing him out of the blue like this, but besides a little irritation, I actually feel nothing when I look at him. No pangs of regrets, feelings of lost love…absolutely nothing.
"It's fine," I repeat.
While giving him the skunk eye, Sarah snatches up her wine and sloshes into the house.
Jim sits on the porch railing and I return to my chair. The pamphlets from the doctor's office are still scattered on the table beside me. I wish I'd put them away. If I do it now, I'll only draw attention to them. I don't want Jim to know I'm pregnant. It's none of his business.
"I made a terrible mistake, Andrea."
"Obviously."
"One I can never make amends for. But I want to try."
Okay, I wasn't expecting that. "What?"
"I want to come home."
"I sold the house."
"You know what I mean. I want to come home…to you."
For all the months I dreamt about this very scenario, I feel strangely apathetic. "Did Courtney leave you, Jim? Is that why you're suddenly here?"
"No." He looks me in squarely the eye. "I left her. When I heard about what happened in Afghanistan, I realized it was you I wanted all along. I was just confused before. But when I realized you might have been killed and it was all because of me, because I was stupid and misguided…Well, I couldn't bear the thought. I knew then that you've always been the woman for me."
I barely hear the last part of his ramble. I'm still mulling over the first part. "You left your pregnant girlfriend?" I ask incredulously. "Your about-to-give-birth pregnant girlfriend? To try and…win me back?"
He looks confused. "You're my wife. My vows are with you, not her."
"Ex-wife," I correct. "And our vows became nullified when you left me, when you got another woman pregnant while I was learning I was infertile."
He leans forward and takes my hands. "That's another thing. I'm seeking custody of the baby. We can finally have our family."
I stare at his hands cupping mine and then at him. "You're joking."
"We always talked about adoption…"
I pull my hands away. "I can't believe—"
"Please, Andrea. I know it seems strange. I know it's unconventional. I know I hurt you and I can't begin to make up for that. But you must know that I want to make up for it. Know that I want our family back. That I miss you. That I'm sorry."
At one time I would have given anything to hear those words. Now they just seem empty.
I rise. "You need to go."
His expression is pained. "Andrea…"
My head is a swirling mess of conflicted emotions. Between leaving Afghanistan and Trey, being back in the Midwest, and worrying about the baby struggling to grow inside me, I don't need this added drama. "Just go. I can't—" I shake my head. He doesn't need any more explanation. "No," I say to myself. "Just. Go," I say to him.
He hesitates for a minute before rising. "Think about it."
I don't answer, pressing my lips tightly together to keep it that way.
"I love you," he adds before turning and heading down the stairs.
Unbelievable…
I don't know what to think. A whirlwind o
f emotions flow through me, a mishmash of feelings I can't begin to pinpoint. What am I supposed to feel? I have no idea.
Tired. I definitely feel tired.
I quickly gather up the pamphlets, shove them into my purse and head inside. Sarah greets me with a hug.
"What a douche-canoe," she says. "Unless you're considering…?"
"No. Just no." I rub my eyes. One from weariness and the other to keep the tears at bay. I give her an exhausted smile. "I think I'm going to hit the hay. Jetlag and all."
She gives my arm a brief rub. "Of course."
I climb the stairs to the bedroom with wooden legs. It's too much. It's all too much. I don't think I'm sad. I'm done grieving for the death of my relationship with Jim and the man I thought he was. If anything I feel strong.
Before Afghanistan, before Trey, I don't know if I would have been able to tell him no. I probably would have taken him back in two heartbeats. But I'm stronger now. I'm better. The future may be uncertain, but I know I can handle it. Even if I have to alone.
~
The shrill ring of my phone wakes me. With fumbling hands I receive it from the depths of my purse.
Ah, shit…
"Hey, mom," I say into the phone, my voice thick with sleep. With less than steady arms, I push myself up into a sitting position.
How long have I been asleep? I wish I'd noted the time when I picked up the phone.
My mom rambles on tirelessly, asking how my doctor appointment went, how work took my request for short-term leave, how the living situation is going… I reply appropriately but without much enthusiasm.
Finally, she gets to the real reason she called. "So… I hear Jim stopped by?"
It really isn't a question. Visions of Jim and my mother meeting for coffee and discussing me fly into my head. I know she always called him the son she wishes she'd had. I guess I'd deluded myself into thinking his affair and subsequent insemination would push him out of her favor.
"He did."
"Maybe you should hear him out."
"Are you kidding me? After everything he put me through?"
"You can't just throw away seven years of your life because of one little mistake."
"I find your notion of 'little' appalling."
"You two can get counseling. He loves you and I know you love him."
I used to, or thought I did. I'm not so sure anymore. What I felt for Jim paled in comparison to what I feel, or felt, for Trey. But maybe my memories are skewed by my hatred. Maybe I'm not remembering things correctly.
"Andrea, I'm just saying you should listen to him. Put aside your anger. You are pregnant, honey. Think of your baby."
"It isn't even his, mom."
"I know. But your baby needs a father, and since you can't count on that military man…"
She doesn't know I didn't tell Trey. Or I don't think I told her. I was so jetlagged when I spoke to her last I honestly can't remember what I said. One thing is certain, I'm so ashamed I haven't told Trey yet, there's no way I can spill now.
"You didn't tell Jim I'm pregnant, did you?"
"No, of course not. If you do decide to get back together with him, it might be best to let him think the baby is his."
A small gagging noise sounds in the back of my throat. And I thought I was appalled earlier…
"Just think about it. Remember how devastated you were when Jim left. Surely there's something salvageable there."
She isn't wrong—about me being devastated. I don't know about the rest. "Okay," I say.
"You'll think about it?"
Maybe…unlikely. I don't know. "Sure."
After hanging up, I crawl out of bed and pull out my laptop. If nothing else, talking with my mom makes me realize one thing: I need to tell Trey I'm pregnant. I'll be sure to tell him he is under no obligation to do anything, but at the very least he deserves to know.
I click on his unopened email.
Hey gorgeous, just checking in. Looking forward to coming home. I'll bring a bottle and we can have sex so dirty we can't look each other in the eye the next day.
Oh God. I wish I hadn't read that.
It takes me ten minutes to write a reply, but I think I've finally got something. I stare at the email, my computer cursor lingering over the "send" button. All that typing and deleting and typing and deleting just leaves me with, "Call me" written across the screen and my number below. What I need to tell him shouldn't be sent in an emotionless email. And it really should have been expressed in person. But at this point, a phone call will have to do.
I draw in my breath, close my eyes, and click. Before I can take it back, the email disappears into cyberspace.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Within thirty minutes my phone rings. I can't grab it quickly enough. It isn't Trey though. It's Jim. I get the feeling my mom called him right after I hung up.
I let voicemail pick it up.
When the phone rings again an hour later, I experience the same fleeting burst of elation before my caller ID tells me it's my mother.
Voicemail again.
It becomes a wicked pattern. The phone rings, goose bumps dot my skin, all the small hairs on my body stand to attention, only to have it all smashed by disappointment.
It's almost always either Jim or my mom. I swear they've both decided to call me more now than they ever did in the last seven years.
A few days pass before I finally listen to messages. Or rather, skim the messages. They're the same over and over—Jim insisting we just need to talk and my mom insisting I talk to him. She also reminds me to "take it easy", for the baby's sake.
Which is exactly why I don't answer my phone.
After a week of purposefully missed calls—none of which are from Trey—I realize I can't keep it up forever. I try not to be disappointed Trey hasn't contacted me. I fail miserably, but at least I try. Maybe it's better this way. Now, he can forever be relegated to fantasy. There's no hope, chance, or expectation that way. I can simply remember him as the man who gave me the best sex of my life, wonderful memories I can cherish, and hopefully (if everything goes well), a beautiful baby.
When I do finally answer the phone, my mother's voice pours through the headset like an overflowing faucet. Every shrill note makes my teeth hurt, but I listen patiently as she abuses me for ignoring her—and Jim.
"All I'm saying is you hear him out," are the last words of the tirade.
I've been pacing Sarah's small living room since I picked up the phone. Silence filling my ear, I'm finally able to relax and sink into the red armchair closest to me. I rub my now aching forehead. "I already heard him."
"You dismissed him without even considering what he had to say."
"You mean taking him back."
"Of course!"
"Didn't we already discuss this?"
"You dismissed me just as quickly as Jim." Her tone is indignant. My mother… Never one to let her opinion fall on deaf ears, even if she has to scream to be heard.
"I'm sorry." I don't mean it but I say it anyway. Mom needs her hurt feelings pascified. "Why do you think I should hear him out?"
"I know Jim screwed up, but I also know he's truly sorry. Every marriage goes through tough times. Your father's and mine certainly did. I never told you this, but your father cheated on me. With his secretary."
"Dad?"
I wonder what he would think of mom dishing on their personal life. I can envision him perfectly—sitting in his leather recliner, watching news, a Busch Light in one hand. A private man of very few words, I'm sure he'd be horrified.
"Yes, but we worked it out. And our marriage was even better for it."
I'm still trying to wrap my brain around my perfect, true family-man father, hooking up with his secretary.
"And lucky for you we did, otherwise you would have never been born."
That makes more sense.
"Which is why you should at least try to work things out with Jim," she continues. "Think of this as a bump in the
road to a lifetime of happiness."
"More like a boulder."
"Just tell me you'll at least talk with him."
She's never going to rest until I say yes. "Sure. Fine. Whatever. I don't want to talk to him on the phone though. Tell him to come by tomorrow afternoon." I don't wait for her response, clicking off the phone and tossing it haphazardly onto the coffee table.
Sarah comes into the living room from where she's been not so discretely eavesdropping.
"Are you really thinking about taking him back?"
"No." I sigh. "I don't know."
God, am I actually considering it? It must be the hormones…
"I was happy when I was with him, right?"
She sits of the sofa next to me. "You always seemed happy. I mean, I was kinda jealous of your relationship."
I grunt. "Do you think I could be happy with him again?"
"I don't know. Some couples seem to recover from infidelity, some never do."
Could my mother actually be onto something? Should I at least give it a chance?
"What would you do?"
"Well, I have an opinion but it really doesn't matter. In the end, it's about your happiness. It's your life and ultimately, you have to do what's best for you. I think you should sleep on it and make your decision tomorrow. Whatever you decide, you do know I'll support you no matter what, right?"
"I do." Gratitude and love filling my heart, I slide over to the couch and hug her. "You're such a good friend. Thanks for everything—letting me stay here, listening to me ramble… I really do appreciate it."
"No problem. That's what friends do." She rises. "Let's go grab dinner. I'm starving."
~
We avoid talking about anything Jim or baby or Trey related during dinner, which is good because I'll have plenty of time to dwell on it later. Sarah chats about people and places we both know and things that happened while I was away. Content to be distracted, I'm happy to simply listen while the words flow as easily from her mouth as the wine flows in.
Later that night, in the quiet and solace of Sarah's guest room, I pull out my laptop and scour old photos—the same photos I perused at Merritec Village when trying to detangle my feelings for Trey.