XVII.
Olivia had her period. It was a relief, of course, but she was also depressed.
""Look on the bright side,"" I said, ""you can still continue drinking.""
""That's not funny,"" she said.
""It is pragmatic,"" I said.
""Do you think this is fun time?"" she said. ""Johnny Carson, ha ha.""
""I thought you didn't want to be pregnant,"" I said.
""Only because I'm poor and I have ambitions,"" she said. ""But I do want another baby, some time, some day, maybe soon. Maybe two more babies, maybe three. Maybe a house full of them. But I'd need a house to put them all in. I do want another one. I don't want Ella to be an only child.""
""She would like a baby brother or sister,"" I said.
""Yes,"" Olivia said, ""I know.""
I could see it on her face, in her eyes. So I said, ""Let's have a baby then.""
""Never joke about such a thing.""
""I'm not.""
She could tell I was serious.
""Really?""
""Really,"" I said.
""You want a child?""
""We both do.""
""Oh no,"" she said, ""another illegitimate baby in the world. Does the world need another one of those?"" she said.
""We'll get married,"" I said.
""Really?"" she said.
""Really.""
""You would marry me?"" she said.
""I've been wanting to bring it up for a while.""
""Hold me,"" she said.
I held her and it was nice.
""I feel safe,"" she said.
Took three months, but the next time her period was late it was late for real and so we were going to have a baby. We were going to be parents.
""You're going to be a father,"" Olivia said.
Those words sounded so distant, like they were in another language from a far away country of strange -looking people. We celebrated with a bottle of champagne and a fifth of Chivas Regal. Only the best for the mother of my child.
""This is the last sip,"" she said. ""I really have to quit drinking now. I have to be responsible.""
""I love you for this,"" I said.
""You have to stop drinking too; you have to go through this with me,"" she said.
""It’s only fair,"" she said.
I had no intention of quitting booze but I said, ""Okay.""
She said, ""Promise?""
I said, ""Promise.""
""Pinky promise?""
We linked our little fingers.
""We need to set a wedding date,"" she said.
***
We sat down with her daughter and told her there was a baby coming and that we were going to get married.
""Oh,"" Ella said.
""This is good news,"" I said.
""So you won't be my fake step dad anymore?"" she asked. ""You'll be my real step dad?""
""I'll be your dad,"" I said.
""He'll be a dad and you'll be a sister,"" Olivia said.
Ella thought about this for a minute and then she smiled.
""Family hug,"" Olivia said.
The three of us embraced and I thought: I am the luckiest man in the world. I felt like it.
***
We had no idea how the hell we were going to afford everything but that didn't seem to matter, practical things didn't seem to be real when there was love and love was more real than anything.
***
One day, Ella called on the phone and she was frantic and screaming and scared.
""Paul!"" she cried. ""Come here quick! I don't know what to do!""
""What is it?""
""My mom!"" she said.
""What about her?""
""I think she's dead! Oh, Paul, please get here now! I'm scared!""
***
Ella had come home from school and saw blood all over the bathroom. There was a trail of blood to Olivia's bed …and Olivia was unconscious on the bed. Ella could not wake her up. Ella did not see the empty bottle of sleeping pills on the floor, but I did.
Seeing the blood, and the bottle, and Olivia unconscious, I knew exactly what happened. My soul left my body.
Ella sat in the corner of the bedroom and cried.
""It's okay,"" I told her.
""Is…is she dead?""
""No,"" I said.
I got a cup of water, stepping in the blood on the bathroom floor. There were thick clots of blood in the toilet. I splashed water on Olivia's face. She stirred but did not wake up.
I called 911.
I tried to pick Olivia up. I turned her on her stomach and she vomited.
Ella screamed.
""It's okay,"" I said. ""She'll be okay…""
Olivia's mother showed up. Ella had called her too. She took a look around and figured it out..
She said, ""Not again.""
Then the paramedics arrived. They pumped Olivia's stomach out and took her to the hospital. Then the cops arrived and took a report, first from Ella, and then me.
""I think you should go now,"" Olivia's mother said to me when the police were gone. ""I'll clean up what's left of the miscarriage.""
""To the hospital? I'll go there.""
""No,"" she said.
""Where am I supposed to go?""
""Away,"" she said. ""Haven't you done enough damage?""
I walked away from Olivia's home and I walked and walked and walked. I walked for miles. I walked until my feet felt like they were going to fall off and I walked even more, trying to find my dead child so I could hold him or her and say, ""It's okay.""
XVIII.
I met Olivia's mother for lunch at a café near her office. We sat outside. We sat at a table with a big umbrella, providing shade from the hot sun.
""I'm grateful you agreed to meet me,"" she said.
""Why would I say no?""
""The way I've treated you, the things I've said to you,"" she said. ""I wouldn’t blame you if…""
""I'm here,"" I said.
""You're here,"" she said. ""Good. Order anything you want. My treat.""
""I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite,"" I said.
""Well, I'm absolutely famished,"" she said.
She ordered a chicken Caesar's salad. I order a beer and some mozzarella cheese sticks. I wasn't hungry but I knew she would bug me to get something. I didn't care that it was noon and I was drinking a beer in front of her.
""I'm a difficult woman,"" she said. ""I judge too easily, too harshly.""
""Is that what you wanted to tell me?""
She made a face, scrunched her nose.
""This whole thing has been a nightmare. The state taking Ella away. Keeping Olivia for observation.""
""Yes,"" I said. Because Ella had found her mother, Child Protective Services took Ella and put her in a foster home because they couldn't reach her father, and they wanted a shrink to determine if she was psychologically damaged. Her father finally took custody of her, but he gave her to Olivia's mother to tend to.
""Paul,"" she said, ""why haven't you gone to see her?""
""I can't.""
""She thinks you hate her.""
""I don't.""
""She thinks you don't love her anymore.""
""I've always loved her. But it's too hard.""
""Because she blames you?""
""Well, yeah, in part,"" I said.
Olivia did blame me for the miscarriage, and for trying to kill herself.
""It's all your fucking fault,"" she'd said, and hit me in the eye with her fist.
""She had misplaced anger, misplaced blame. That's natural. But there is no one to blame, except God if you believe in God but I never believed there was a God out there. Why would God take babies away like that? She doesn't blame you, Paul, and she needs you and I need you to go see her.""
""Thought you'd be happy to see me out of the picture.""
""Why do you…say that?""
""You don’t like me.""
""That is n
ot a fair statement.""
""What would be fair?""
""I know you are a kind, decent man,"" she said, ""even if you write some odd plays and poetry.""
""Let's leave that out.""
""I only want the best for my daughter; and my granddaughter.""
""Have you ever realized that your expectations are unrealistic?"" I said. ""That your demands are the root of Olivia's problems? She's never been able to satisfy you, to get your total approval. Even when things are good, you find fault.""
""She needs you.""
""I'm in pain,"" I said.
""So is she. This is why you both must heal.""
""And?""
""And I would like you to become Ella's guardian, her legal guardian, in case…""
""In case?""
""Olivia does this again,"" she said. ""I don't want that bastard ex-husband to ever have full custody. He'd never take it. I don't want her to ever spend another hour in some damn foster home.""
""You can be her guardian.""
""If she tries to commit suicide again, if she is successful the next time, I will die. I will have a heart attack. I almost did this time and I almost did the last time. I won't survive another suicide attempt. If my baby dies, I will die, so I need you to go to her and I need you both to heal. This can be fixed.""
I gave this some thought.
""What do I need to do, to be Ella's guardian?""
""Some paperwork, a quick trip to court.""
""I'll do that,"" I said.
""Or…""
""Or?""
""You can marry Olivia, and you'll automatically be Ella's father.""
""I can do that,"" I said.
""Isn't it something, dear?"" she said. ""I'm asking you to marry my child.""
""If I have your permission,"" I said. I was being facetious, of course.
""Indeed you do…dear."" She smiled.
""Thank you,"" I said.
""Will you go to her?"" she asked.
""Yes.""
""When?""
""Soon.""
""Now?""
""I can go now.""
""Please go now, please,"" she said, and I did.
XIX.
Olivia was in bed. Ella let me into the house. I bent down and hugged her. ""I'm happy to see you,"" I said.
""My mom will be glad you're here,"" she said.
I walked into the bedroom. Olivia was lying on her side, facing the wall, a blanket cover her body.
""Hey,"" I said. ""Awake?""
""Yeah.""
""Can I come in?""
""Don't ask stupid questions."" She turned. ""My mother called and said you were on the way.""
""The woman always ruins a good surprise.""
She sat up. ""She means well, you know.""
""In her way, yes.""
She smiled. ""I'm glad you're here.""
We looked at each other for a bit.
""Come here,"" she said. ""Are you afraid of me?""
""Don't ask stupid questions,"" I said.
I placed my body next to hers. There we were; two bodies.
""I'm sorry,"" she said.
""Don't be,"" I said.
""It wasn't right.""
""It's okay.""
""It's not okay,"" she said.
""I'm sorry,"" she said.
I said, ""Accepted.""
Her eyes were wet. ""I wanted that baby so bad. So much.""
""Me too,"" I said.
My eyes were wet.
""We can try again.”"
""We can,"" I said.
""Would you like that?""
""Yes.""
""Will you hold me?""
""Yes.""
We held each other for a long time. We fell asleep that way.
We shared dreams.
***
The next day we both went to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
XX.
I picked up the newspaper one morning and saw something that made my heart skip a beat.
I sat there, sipping coffee as Olivia made breakfast and Ella was reading a book; she was getting ready for school and I was getting ready for work and Olivia was getting us both ready. It was a regular scene of domestic bliss.
I read this headline: Local Man’s Body Found in Own Backyard. OCAL MAN'S BODY FOUND IN OWN BACKYARD.
And the black and white photo was Jeff.
Sub-headline: ""Missing for over two years,"" says wife, arrested for murder.
Caption under photo: Jeffrey Wayne Bonfils, reported missing by his wife, Lisa Patrice Bonfils, was found buried in the backyard of his house.
Coffee flew out of my nostrils.
""Gross,"" Ella said.
""You okay?"" Olivia asked.
""Yeah,"" I said.
I went to work (backbreaking construction labor—it paid better than any job I've ever had) and thought about Jeff all day. I was obsessed. I showed the paper to everyone on the job site and said, ""You hear about this shit?""
Most had not.
Some said, ""Yeah. It's always the wife or husband, eh?""
""Usually the wife,"" said someone else, ""those crazy killing bitches.""
At home, I watched the local news on TV. There was a story. ""Wife Lisa Bonfils has confessed to the crime,"" said the anchorman, ""saying she killed her husband in a moment of anger when he failed to come home one night. Apparently, Sshe believed was certain he was having an affair. She buried the body in their backyard, hid his car in the garage, and filed a missing person's report.""
I thought of the day I drove over to talk to her. I thought of all the wondering and worrying since. She had asked me to help her. She had acted like she didn’t know where Jeff was.
What if she had killed me too? What if I had told her he was out drinking with me?
I imagined my body buried next to his.
I thought of all the things I would never had to go through the past two years if Lisa Bonfils had murdered me.
I decided I was happy to be alive.
I wondered, too, if his death was my fault. Had I not gone to the grocery store, had I not been sitting in my car, smoking and drinking, had I not gone to the bar with him, had I not let him keep buying beer…
Had I not stolen his food.
Was I ashamed? We are all ashamed of our pasts.
I decided I had to live in the now.
Day by day, as the Program said.
***
I got into bed with Olivia. She was reading a paperback romance. I put my head on her five-month pregnant belly.
She ran her fingers through my hair.
""When will he start kicking?"" I asked.
For some reason, we both knew the fetus was a boy. In our heart of hearts, we just knew.
""Soon,"" my wife said, ""soon.""
XXI.
I had a job and Olivia didn't.
And that was okay. She was seven -months and she couldn't stand on her feet all day at the grocery store. We had to pinch pennies, but I was making enough for the family. I was the breadwinner.
Construction work is tricky work. You don't need a degree in anything to figure out manual labor, so the brightest guys didn't surround me. It wasn’t steady work;, you could go a week or two without a job., Tthat's why it paid well. Fortunately, there was a housing boom in Santa Cruz and there was ample work going around.
I was on one job site with a bunch of guys ten years younger than me - —all in great shape, walking around the job with their shirts off, showing tanned, trim muscle. Women liked to walk by and look, and the guys liked to whistle at the women and show off their virile stuff. All these kids cared about was a paycheck, booze, and pussy.
They called me "’pops."’ I liked to think this wasn't because I was ten years older, but for the fact that I had a baby coming.
""Hey, pops!"" they said one day after work, a Friday. ""We're all going to this titty bar. Come along.""
""I can't,"" I said.
""Don'
t be such a fuddy-duddy, pops,"" they said.
""One, I don't drink anymore,"" I said, ""and two, I have a pregnant wife and daughter to get home to.""
""Pregnant daughter too?""
Laughter.
These guys.
""Hey, friend of Bill, we won't tell Bill,"" they said.
""One hour, pops,"" they said, ""you can drink a soda-pop and see what you've been missing.""
""Oh,"" I said, ""I've had enough, I'm not missing anything.""
Driving home, a Mercedez-Benz, going eighty-miles-an-hour, ran a red light and slammed into my car.
My last thought: My family.
No, my last thought was: I should have gone to the titty bar.
And I thought of Jeff, and how anything could happen in this goddamn life.
***
Olivia, round and plump, was sitting by my side when I woke up in the hospital.
""Thank God, Paul,"" she said.
""What happened?"" It hurt to talk.
""There was an accident,"" she said.
I remembered. And then there was pain. So much pain, all through my body. I couldn't feel my right arm and knew I had probably lost it. No, it was still there, but in a cast. My face was bandaged up from flying glass that had cut into my flesh. The doctor would later tell me I lost an eye, my left eye. My ribs were bruised and my body had lacerations.
""When the police called,"" she said.
""What?""
""I thought I was going to have another miscarriage because I thought you were dead.""
I felt a dreadful panic mixed with my pain.
""The baby?""
She touched her belly.
""Still in there.""
""Oh,"" I said, ""oh.""
""Does it hurt?
""I know the true meaning of agony,"" I said.
She rang for the nurse, and then came the doctor, and then came the news.: I survived the accident, and all I lost was an eye.
""It could have been worse,"" said the doctor.
***
The teenage kid was driving his parents’ car; he came from a rich family. He was drunk and he didn't have a license. The family's insurance company offered a very generous settlement - —enough for me to take several years off from work, tend to my family, even afford another baby if we wanted.
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