Bittersweet

by K. S. Thomas

  She tips her head back and forth. “I wouldn’t wait on you hand and foot.”

  “Lev.”

  “Fine.” She turns her coffee cup upward, practically disappearing inside of it. A clear sign of surrender.

  Then my mother is up. “Esi, you’re not planning on going back to work right away are you? I mean, just because they let you go from the hospital doesn’t mean you’re completely recovered. Just means you don’t need constant medical care.”

  I smirk. “Thanks, Ma. I actually already knew that. But seriously, I’m not nearly as fragile as you guys are making me out to be. And yeah, I talked to Dara and she said I can come back whenever I’m ready. And I’m ready. There won’t be any heavy lifting, no strenuous activity, no standing and I can even work in my mandatory walks by pacing the long hallway outside my office door.”

  My mother frowns. Again.

  “What is that? What are you doing? How many years have I heard you tell us that the only wrinkles worth having are laugh lines? You trying to fuck up that youthful face of yours? ‘Cause if you keep scowling like that, you’re gonna.”

  “Yeah, and it’ll be your fault, Esidora! Much like my grey hair! Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through? And now, now you want to rush back out there. You need time, Esi. Time to heal. We all do.”

  I lean forward to take her hand. “Ma, the world doesn’t have to stop for me to heal. In fact, I honestly believe that getting back into the swing of things is what’s best for everyone. Trust me, okay? I know my body. I know what it’s capable of.”

  Since I’m apparently still not saying what she wants to hear, she decides to switch gears. “Listen, I know Lev can be a bit bossy, so I understand why you wouldn’t want her here. What if I stay? Hm? Let me mommy you for a while. I promise I won’t be controlling or get into your business like your sister.”

  Lev sits up straight, hands on her hips. “I’m sitting right here.”

  I laugh. Then I hold out my hands for each of them to take. “I love you guys. I really do. And the fact that you both are fighting over me, wanting to take care of me, it’s really, really touching. But, because I’d like to hold onto this overwhelming feeling of love and being loved, I’m going to have to turn you both down.”

  Lev stares across the coffee table at my mother. “I told you she’d never go for it.”

  My mother smiles strangely. “Yeah, but we had to try.”

  “Listen, I know I haven’t shown my appreciation the way that you two were hoping I would, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not beyond grateful for your efforts.” My eyes travel from the room and out toward my imprisoned wedding gifts. “And not just today. For everything.”

  After that, they both finally drop it and we actually have a semi-normal conversation while we drink our coffees. My mother’s store is hosting a new author next month which she’s very excited about, while my sister goes off on a tangent about how much she hates work during this time of year.

  “With the holidays coming up, I’ve got tons of orders lining up. Table center pieces mostly. All turkey themed. Lord help us all if I don’t get something a little less stereotypical coming in soon.” She shudders dramatically, but I understand. Thanks to our mother being a fiend for knowledge in rather unconventional areas, Lev and I grew up with perceptions of today’s traditions that varied from the mainstream. Some are minor, but others not so much. The many almost painfully ironic misconceptions surrounding Thanksgiving are hard to swallow at times. More so for Lev, since her business depends on catering to many of those falsities during this time of the year.

  “You ever consider telling anyone they’re celebrating the damn thing nearly two months too late?” I grin.

  “Holy shit! Almost told this chick today. She was in a fucking frenzy about the whole damn thing. She must have asked me to confirm her order five times because she was so worried that I wouldn’t really be able to finish her three table pieces, a massive bouquet for her foyer, plus two decorative outdoor arrangements. By the fifth, ‘now you’re sure you’ll be able to have these done in time for Thanksgiving?’ I swear I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying, ‘Oh, you wanted these by Thanksgiving? Well, shit. We missed that by a long shot already. Unless you mean for me to have them ready for next October 3rd.’ Not even kidding, Esi.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “Here, look.”

  “I don’t see anything.” I don’t know why I lie. Other than the expression on her face is totally worth it.

  “What? How can you not see it? I drew blood.”

  I laugh. “I’m just screwing with you. I can see it. In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t need stitches on that. It’s all fleshy looking. Super gross by the way, so you know, anytime you want to close your mouth again would be fine by me.”

  “You’re a jackass.”

  “Levinora, no name calling,” our mother scolds.

  “Sorry.” Lev averts her eyes in mock shame just before we both erupt in fits of giggles.

  By the time my mother and sister leave, I have them almost convinced I am exactly the same person I was before the accident. On some level I think we all know I’ll never quite get there, but I am okay with that. Whatever comes next, I am ready to welcome it with open arms. It’s bound to be better than what I’ve already been through.

  Chapter Four

  Carter ~ Seven Years Ago

  I’m staring at her. Again. Only now it’s no longer because of how weird she is. Although she is. About the weirdest fucking chick I’ve ever met. But, she may just be the most beautiful as well. I’ve known her damn near my entire life and I can’t believe I’ve never noticed. Maybe because as long as I can remember, I’ve been told to stay clear of everyone named Harper. Mostly by my uptight Catholic parents who made a habit of deeming all things not conventional as evil. And the Harpers are anything but conventional.

  “Any reason in particular you’re looking at me like I’m a piece of pastry you want to lick?” Esi bites the inside of her lip and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh at her own little joke. Not that it’s all that funny. I kinda do want to lick her. Shit. I want to do more than just that. But I’ve only spent fifteen minutes out of the last twenty years not avoiding her, so it’s probably too soon to say so.

  Instead, I clear my throat loudly. “Might be because you have some frosting,” I reach up and touch the corner of her mouth, “right here.” Her tongue comes out to lick the evidence of her cinnamon roll off her face and it catches the tip of my finger as well. And I kinda think she did it on purpose. I’m also instantly convinced that insisting on buying her breakfast, to make up for crashing into her, is the best damn decision I’ve ever made in my life.

  “So, you’re having pastry envy.” She grins and takes another bite. “That’s a very serious condition, you know. When left untreated.”

  I can’t think about anything other than her tongue since she seductively flicked my finger with it, so I reach for my coffee and take a drink, hoping the caffeine zaps some sensibility back into my brain. Right now there’s only Esi. And my pastry envy. Only it’s not Esi I’m envious of, it’s the pasty’s frosting sticking to her lips in tiny clusters of straight sugar. I’m pretty sure she knows that.

  “Pastry envy, huh? Is that a medical term, doctor?” I nod at the social psyche book stuck in the middle of her massive stack.

  “Are you taking social psychology?” she asks, her brow arched.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  Her mouth spreads into another smile. “Then yes, it’s a medical term.” She takes the last piece of cinnamon roll and holds it up. “Good news is, it’s very easily treated.”

  “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

  Her hand moves across the table toward me. “Open up.”

  And because I’m already fairly sure I’ll be doing whatever she tells me to do for the rest of my life, I do. She places the pastry right on my tongue and I close my mouth quickly, pretending to chomp down on her fingers. She squeals and jerk
s her hand back. She’s laughing. It’s the best damn laugh I’ve ever heard.

  Chapter Five

  Esi

  “Hey you.” I find Carter stretched out on our bed.

  He grins back at me sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t stick around for the chick chat.”

  I climb onto the mattress beside him. “No worries. I had it all under control. Did you get some rest?”

  He nods. “So, how are the Harper women?”

  I throw my head back into my pillow dramatically. “Oh, I don’t know. Lev and my mom were being an extra special kind of nuts today.”

  He smirks. “Were they? How could you tell?”

  I fight my laughter without much success. “Watch it, mister. Those crazies are your family now.”

  “I know. And I’m lucky they are. Just like you are. Give them some time to see you back in the swing of things and they’ll ease off. You didn’t see what you looked like, lying in that hospital bed. Pale, beat up. Tubes and wires attached to you. Machines beeping and humming twenty-four/seven. Had to be hard on them.”

  I know he’s right. “I just don’t want them to see me as fragile now. If anything they should see me as tougher. Yes...the accident could have killed us. But it didn’t. I’m not broken. A fucking Semi couldn’t break me. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  Carter’s smirk fades. “It counts for everything. I don’t know what I would have done if –“

  “Don’t. I don’t want to. I can’t.” I glance down at my own hands, my vision is blurring already. “Those two are making it impossible to forget as it is. Can’t we at least agree to try and act like the accident didn’t happen? I just want to pretend we left our wedding and spent the following two weeks on a romantic honeymoon. Not the ICU.”

  Slowly his smile returns and he rolls over on the bed to move toward me. “I’d like that. Where did we go?”

  With Carter recently branching out on his own and my particularly dependent patients, we’re holding off on going on a real honeymoon for a year. Which, given the circumstances did sort of work out in our favor.

  “Some place warm and tropical. Hawaii?”

  He shakes his head. “Too obvious. Everyone goes there. What about Fiji?”

  “Ooh, Tropical Island in the South Pacific. I could do that.” I sink into my pillow and curl up under the comforter. Carter does the same. “Did we sip fancy drinks out of coconuts with little umbrellas?”

  He grimaces dramatically. “Obviously.”

  I laugh. “What else did we do?”

  Carter leans his head back to think. “Well, depends. How many clothes did we bring on this trip?”

  Closing my eyes for a better visual, I answer, “Only the clothes on our backs.”

  His quiet chuckle rumbles softly in his throat. “My kinda honeymoon. Well, in that case, we spent most of our time in our own private beach hut and swimming in the ocean. Naked.”

  “Skinny dipping. Nice one. I knew there was a reason I married you.”

  “Reason being that I like to see you naked?”

  I lift my lids halfway to see the amusement dancing on his face. “No, reason being I like to see you naked.”

  His deep voice drops even lower. “Guess we’re a good match then.”

  “Guess so.”

  Then, just as I am about to kiss him, my stomach lurches. I have no time to question it. I barely have time to get to the bathroom.

  “Babe?” I hear his voice get closer as he follows me in. “You alright, Es?”

  I stand upright, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I don’t know.” My face feels hot, but the nausea seems to be passing already. “That was so weird.”

  Carter’s head tips to the side get a better look at mine. His eyes are filled with worry. “Do you want to go back to the hospital? Should we call someone?”

  I shake my head. I don’t care if I puke up all of my insides. There is no way I am going back there. Not now. Preferably not ever. “No, I’m fine. Really, it’s going away already. Probably just something stupid, like anxiety or something, from finally coming home. Or maybe it was the coffee I had on an empty stomach.”

  He smiles that ‘yeah, okay, Esi’ smile. “Coffee? Really, Es? Most days you don’t consume anything but coffee until dinner.”

  “Yeah, but that was before. Before they made me give it up cold turkey. I probably need to ease back into the coffee habit,” I reason like a drug addict in rehab trying to explain away the joint stuffed in my socks.

  But when I start throwing up again first thing the next morning, my argument doesn’t take.

  “I really think we need to at least call the doctor. What if there’s some sort of complication from one of the surgeries?” Carter is standing in the bathroom doorway while I run cold water over my face.

  “I’d probably be tossing up blood to go with my granola. We’re not calling the doctor. Just because we barely got out of the hospital doesn’t mean we aren’t still able to get a stupid stomach virus. We’re more likely actually. Probably got it there before we ever left the damn building.” I turn off the water and just stand there for a moment, holding onto the counter.

  “You don’t look good.”

  “I see the honeymoon phase of our marriage has ended,” I say dryly, slowly attempting a few steps to put some distance between myself and the toilet in hopes that my stomach will be too lazy to churn up any more of my breakfast if it has to travel too far to get back there.

  I make it all the way to the bed and lay out flat on top of the covers. “This sucks.”

  “What can I do to help?” He sits down next to me.

  “I don’t know. But you should probably keep your distance. If it’s viral, I don’t want you to get it.” I close my eyes trying to shut down all of the senses busy encouraging the urge to vomit.

  “Well, too bad. If I get it, I get it. I’m not keeping my distance.” And he lies down beside me. Then his hand reaches out, hovering just over my stomach like he’s going to place it down there to comfort me, but before he actually touches me, he pulls it back.

  “Es?”

  “Mm-hm?”

  “You don’t suppose this could be something else...”

  My eyes open again. “Like what?” But I know what and I am already counting the days backward in my mind. “Oh my God.”

  “Yeah?”

  We both sit up at the same time. “I need to pee on a stick, like ASAP.”

  This new revelation pushes every other thought and feeling from my existence. Everything else is on hold until I find out one way or another. And so, Carter and I race downstairs, yank our jackets from the hook on the way out and drive my little VW to the nearest pharmacy.

  Twenty minutes later, we are back in the bathroom and I am guzzling water like a mad woman just trying to produce some goddamn urine.

  “It’s gotta be what it is.” I’m dancing in place nervously, too anxious to sit unless I’m going to sit to make something happen.

  “Yeah, but how? You’re on the pill.”

  I grimace. “I was.”

  His face falls because that’s kind of a big thing to not talk about beforehand. And I agree. Totally. Which is why I quickly explain myself.

  “No, like before the accident. I was. Definitely was. Just haven’t been since.”

  Carter’s brow furrows because my rambly explanation only made sense in my head. “Um, you and I haven’t had sex since the accident. Are you telling me you’re about to find out you’re pregnant with some doctor’s kid?”

  I laugh. Mostly from the nerves, but partially because he is so freaking adorable. “No, dumbass. It would have happened before. Day of the wedding probably.” I pause as it sinks in,” Aw, babe, best date to conceive a baby ever.”

  “No argument there, but I’m still waiting on how we conceived. Are we working in the .9999999 window or what?” He’s reaching for the instruction papers from the box like they might hold the answers he’s looking for.

 
“Well, to be fair, the window was probably a wee bit bigger than that. With all the wedding craziness, I missed a couple of days last month. I took them when I realized it, but you’re supposed to use added protection until the next cycle...which we definitely didn’t do during our little romp in the backseat of your car.”

  The more I think about it, the more it all makes sense, and the more excited I become. It is possible. Carter and I could very easily have made a baby. Life is strange and beautifully twisted that way. Creating and nearly destroying all in the same day.

  “Don’t you have to pee yet?” Carter’s eyes are bugging out at me anxiously.

  “Oh. I do. Hold on.” I set down the cap to the stick and go to handle my part in the experiment.

  Seconds later and we are both huddled over the stick waiting for it to decide one way or the other, and then tell us. The box says to wait at least two minutes for results. It takes less than one and the digital screen comes to life with an undeniable ‘Pregnant’.

  “Holy shit, Es.” It’s barely a breath. Then, half a second later we are both screaming and jumping all around the bathroom like two kids who found a puppy under the tree on Christmas morning.

  Unfortunately, the celebrating is short lived, and I find myself yelling at Carter to get out of the room just in time to revisit with all of the water I chugged earlier. Jumping around and morning sickness simply do not mix.

  When I walk back into the bedroom a little while later, Carter is sitting on the bed, considerably calmer than he was and almost somber looking. “Now can we call the doctor?”

  “Why?” I go to sit beside him. “I mean, obviously I’ll have to get in to see someone at some point, but I hardly think a positive pregnancy test warrants any type of emergency worthy of an immediate call.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d tend to agree with you. But with what your body just went through, don’t you think we should let someone know this new turn of events? What if there could be complications? What if...if your body just isn’t ready?”