by S. M. Smith
I roll my eyes at her as I reload photo paper into the printer. I close the tray, pick up the stack of prints, and start to sort by size so that I can cut them appropriately.
“It was either these or my mustard yellow driving loafers you hate so much. I have nothing else that matches.”
“Yuck. Those nasty things scream, I hate my youth and wish to age by thirty years.” Her face flashes disgust before she gets an excited look on her face and I know immediately what she’s thinking.
“I can’t shop,” I say smugly. “Can’t be on my feet that long.”
“You don’t stand while shoe shopping, Jess.” Ugh, she has a point.
“It will just wear me out and make me tired,” I counter.
“Now you’re just making up excuses not to go shopping with me.”
“I’m just using the same ones you use to keep a camera out of my reach.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Come on, Daph. Dr. Graham cleared me to start taking shoots last week. Schedule me one. That’s all I’m asking for. Just one.”
It’s been three weeks since my surgery and I feel great. The pain and soreness is still there, just barely, but its nothing like it was right after. Daphne still refuses to schedule a shoot for me though. She won’t even let me answer the phone because she thinks I’ll schedule myself a session. At this point, I’d be desperate enough to do so. I know she’s also concerned I’ll get started and will have to stop halfway through. I’ve been trying to do more around the office so that she will see that I’m fine, but it just makes her fuss over me more.
“We just need to be sure that you can handle a whole session,” she says frustratingly.
“I can handle your dumb coffee runs, can’t I?”
She stops and checks her watch before looking up at me wide-eyed and eager.
“Speaking of…” She taps her fingertips together in front of her face.
I just stare at her hollowly.
“I’ll go get everyone’s orders.” She claps and nearly skips out of the printer room. An evil side of me considers tripping her.
I know she has my best interests at heart but seriously. I need something, and a single session would be perfect.
I started making all these changes as soon as Stephen and I got back from Hawaii; no more alcohol, limit the sugar and carbs, plenty of fresh veggies, taking pre-natal vitamins religiously, a solid eight hours of sleep, well most nights anyway, and the worst of the worst: no caffeine. I find it unpleasantly ironic that of all the things Daphne could have me do to get up and out of my seat throughout the day, running to the coffee shop two blocks down was what she settled on. All these dumb coffee runs just make me all that more determined to get in a studio with my favorite Nikon.
I finish cutting the prints and realize we’re out of the white envelopes we put the prints in, so I take my time getting some from the storeroom. We’re down to the last box, so I grab a handful and make my way to my office to order more.
“Daphne says it’s time for a coffee run. Would you like some company?” Jason asks, popping his head into my office.
The phone in the lobby rings and Daphne sprints fast enough to qualify for the Olympic team out of the printing room to answer it.
“No, you better hang out here and help her. Hey, I’m ordering envelopes, do we need anything else. Paper or ink?”
“I’ll go check.”
He retreats and I watch Daphne scramble around from the front of her desk to behind it to pull up her computer screen. I know it’s mean of me to laugh at her attempt to untangle herself from the cord of her handset so that she can put on her headset. But I feel slightly justified since she’s just so adamant about what I am and am not allowed to do around the office. She finally hangs up from the call and turns around abruptly, only to trip over her chair. I laugh loudly, to the point of tears, only to be glared at when she stands up.
“I’m okay. Thanks for asking,” she yells from her filing room. She glares fiercely at me as she comes back out with two files in her hand. I strain to inhale oxygen to calm down as another bout of laughter hits me.
“She has a special kind of talent, doesn’t she?” Jason pops into my office, clearly amused as well. He hands me a post-it with their coffee orders written on it, wrapped around a folded twenty. “We’re good on paper, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to order some more ink. Are you sure you don’t need some help?”
“No, I won’t be long. Besides, someone really should be here in case she falls again and really hurts herself.” He shrugs and quickly rushes to help Daphne with the over packed box of prints she’s trying to carry through the lobby without dropping.
The brand new printer we ordered for the Columbia studio broke down two days after our grand opening, so now, still shorthanded here, we’re printing double time for both sites. Poor Daphne has had a couple crash courses on how to run our printer and has even given a course or two of her own to Stacia, our newest intern, but having to man both the printer and the main phones is helping her to fit back into those jeans from high school she won’t stop raving about.
“I’ll be right back,” I call out as I drop the envelopes onto the table in the printer room and make my way out on the busy street.
The brisk spring air has me wrapping my sweater a little tighter around my waist and picking up the pace. I swear if it weren’t for the fact that I’m just now able to make this walk without being sore or needing some pain meds, I could totally run a 5K. Alas, I keep my face down and breathe steady breaths as I quickly make the two block trek.
I step in to the coffee shop and a pleasant mocha scent floods my nose. I inhale the rich scent and feel my frigid muscles start to relax.
“Hey, Jessie,” Leo, my favorite barista, greets me. His awesomely nerdy semi-rimless Ray-Bans and ever present flannel shirt gives him the perfect geek chic persona. “Daphne got you running her errands again today?”
“Everyday. It’s ridiculous. I can’t wait till I can get back to shooting again. She’s driving me insane!” I hand him the sticky note and he sets about prepping everyone’s cups.
“How are you feeling today?” he asks over the noisy coffee grinder.
“Great. Which is probably why Daph’s on my last nerve today.”
“What will it be for you today?”
I love this coffee shop because they also make smoothies. After I’d tried all the listed flavors on the menu, Leo started to mix things up new creations for me. Most of the time, they were great, but the carrot, kale and blueberry power shake he made me last week nearly made my sick.
“Anything without kale, please. I’m not feeling that healthy today.”
Leo chuckles as he starts frothing milk for Daphne’s cappuccino. “You know, Daphne only has the best of intentions. She’s just looking out for you and your future little ones.”
He gives me a kind smile so I decide to hold back my thought of how her best of intentions are going to get her murdered if she doesn’t let up soon.
***
Jason is supposed to be prepping for a session in one of the upstairs studios when I get back, so I use the excuse that I need to take his coffee to him to get out of Daphne’s line of sight. I hand the cup to Stacia after she hands him a different lens and nod to acknowledge his appreciation, excusing myself without further interrupting his process.
I check my watch and find I have about an hour before Stephen will be by to pick me up. To celebrate the Columbia studio hosting their grand opening last week, Daphne and I are taking everyone out to dinner tonight. I don’t think I can handle spending the rest of afternoon in the printer room where Daphne is likely to hover and just irritate me more, so I take I meander the upstairs, searching for something to distract me. Noticing the closed door, I step into our other studio, a glutton for punishment. It hasn’t been used since before I went in for surgery and I’m itching to put it to good use.
Opening the door, a stale smell floods my nostrils and I notice a thin layer of dust coats the prep t
able and tripod. Thinking the room could use some freshening up, I step back out and into the upstairs bathroom to dampen a couple paper towels. I head back into the studio and check my watch again.
Seeing I have plenty of time, I set about wiping everything off, watching with dismay little flicks of dust fly about the open space. I crack a window to circulate some fresh air into the room and to keep myself from starting a sneezing fit. The cool air feels good as I move about picking up a few props that were left out from the last shoot. Putting stuff away, I decide to rearrange a few things to make finding props for future shoots more efficient. A little while later I hear the door open and hear Shelby calling my name.
“Hey, Shelby. I didn’t think you guys were getting in until a little later?” I say, wiping my hands on my backside as I step out from behind the backdrops.
“We came in early to pick up the prints and take Camilla to Isaiah’s parents’ house. I asked him to drop me off here so I could talk to you while he ran out there.” She looks around the room and smiles. “What are you doing up here?”
“I needed to get out of my office.” I check my watch and realize I’ve been up here for almost forty-five minutes, moving about and not getting tired. Ha! I could totally take on a session!
Shelby smiles and stares at the floor, and now that I’ve stopped moving I start to feel the telltale signs of some tightening muscles. Maybe I spoke too soon. I pull up a stool for Shelby and lean up against the prep table, trying not to wince.
“So how are you guys liking the Columbia area?” I ask.
“It’s…great. Perfect even. We’re very excited about all the changes in store for our family. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.” She finally looks up at me and there’s a timid pain in her eyes.
“That’s great. So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Jessie, Isaiah wants to tell everyone tonight but as my friend, I think you need to hear it from me first.” She looks down at her hands that are wringing in her lap and I’m pretty sure I know what she’s going to say. The atmosphere gets thick fast so I just hold my breath and pray I can keep my cool.
“Jessie, I’m…I’m pregnant.”
I feel like my chest cavity just caved in, but I’m able to keep my face from reflecting it. My body goes into auto pilot, telling my face and brain to give the correct responses, but my heart is dying on the inside.
“Shelby, that’s fantastic,” I hear myself say. “Congratulations.”
“Yeah? I just…I didn’t want...I feel really, really bad. You and Stephen have been so supportive of everything Isaiah and I have gone through and I feel like the worst friend in the world to you guys, right now.”
The look in her eyes tells me she’s been dreading seeing me and I don’t blame her. I’m dreading being here with her right now.
“Please, Shelby. I can’t get mad at you. What we’re going through, it’s not your fault in anyway. But I think this is great, really.” And I do think it’s great for them. But my heart is slowly shattering into a million tiny pieces for me and Stephen. “Have you told Camilla yet?”
“We didn’t think our ambitious little four year old could keep this news to herself while at her Grandma and Grandpa’s so we’re waiting to tell her until we get the chance to tell them first.” She blushes. “Jessie, I really am sorry—“
“You have nothing to be sorry about, Shelby. I’m happy for you guys. Really. Congratulations.” I don’t know how much longer I can hold off showing the searing pain in my chest. Fortunately, her phone dings, summoning her downstairs.
“Okay, well. I’ll see you at dinner then. Stephen will be joining us right?” She asks as she carefully stands and heads toward the door. A single fat tear manages to escape and I just barely get it wiped away before she turns around.
“Yeah. He’s picking me up in a little bit and we’ll meet everyone at the restaurant.” I force a smile. She just nods before stepping out of the studio, closing the door behind her.
The minute the door is closed, my knees buckle, my feet give out from under me and the hole where my heart has been barely keeping itself together engulfs the last of my will. I hate myself for being a ball of sobs right now, which doesn’t help me to feel any better.
I don’t know why I was chosen to go through all of this, and right now I want to give it all up. I’ve made all these sacrifices for the last year, and for what? To see my friends get to move on without me while the bad news just keeps piling.
Oh God. Why?! Why me? I know you promised that you would never give me more than I can handle, but this…this is too much. Why would you fill me with this desire and drive to love and then not give me someone to pour it out to? I just don’t understand.
My eyes sting and my chest heaves as the tears just don’t want to stop. The muscles in my chest burn as I gulp for air, trying but failing to calm down.
A moment later I hear the door open and, a second later, a soft expletive as Stephen finds me weeping on the floor.
Chapter Three
~Stephen~
It takes her almost a full ten minutes in my arms to calm down enough to find words. Her fingers loosen their grip on my arm and she finally holds herself up, her face streaked with tears and small tendrils of her hair coming out of her ponytail.
“Baby, what is it? Are you hurting?” I ask quietly when her breathing returns to normal. She nods and sniffs a couple of times before I hear her steadily inhale.
“Shelby’s…pregnant.” Her voice is raw. She can barely say the words in between breaths. Another whispered expletive leaves my mouth. She narrows her wet eyes at me. “You kiss your momma with that mouth?”
A half smile creeps over my face, relieved that she’s coming back to her normal self as I bend down and kiss her forehead.
“I’m sorry, baby. What can I do?”
“Nothing you’re not already doing.” She nuzzles my chest as one last sob escapes her, shaking her whole body. I wait until she stills again before speaking.
“Let me cancel the dinner tonight. Everyone would understand if you wouldn’t be feeling up for it.”
“No.” She carefully wipes her face and cautiously stands up, brushing dust off her leggings and skirt. “We need to go. We’re their friends and we need to show our support.” She goes about the room picking up a few wadded up paper towels and shutting a window before stopping to wait for me by the door.
I stare at her in disbelief. This isn’t the first time I’ve found her in a puddle of her own tears, but it is the first time because someone close to us is getting what we so desperately want. This woman has been through all sorts of pain, both physical and emotional and she always does this; she breaks down, spends ten to fifteen minutes curled up in a ball, bawling her eyes out, then jumps up and moves on as if nothing ever affected her. I’m not sure it’s healthy, but it’s nothing short of amazing to watch.
I join her side and take up her hand as we make our way back downstairs. Everyone else has left and the whole floor is dark when we exit the elevator. Jessie stops by her office and packs a camera bag and carries it, her messenger bag and purse, not letting me carry anything to the car for her.
We step out into the early spring evening, the bitingly cool air whipping her long hair around her face. She pulls out her keys and tries to juggle them and her bags while trying to lock the door, but she gets frustrated quickly. With the threat of tears in her eyes again, I still her hands with mine and carefully take the keys from her. I lock up and guide her to my car.
She mutters a thanks, but doesn’t say anything else as we make our way to the restaurant. The air in the car thickens as we get stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, and she won’t look anywhere but out her window.
“So did you have a session today?” I ask after stopping for the millionth time. She looks over at me confused, but at least she’s looking at me now. “You were up in the studio when I…”
Her eyes go vacant for a second, but it’s brief. Nevertheless
, it still breaks my heart.
“I…I needed to get out of my office. Daphne and Jason had the printer going double time and Daphne just got to be too much. I needed some space and…something else to do. So I found myself in studio two.”
She starts to stare out her window again as we slink another mile down the highway in silence.
“Jess, we really don’t have to do this. We could go home. I’ll make you some spaghetti, we can camp out on the couch, get some cookies and cream ice cream, maybe a couple of chick flicks—“
She turns to me with a tired smile.
“Stephen, I’m fine. Really. I can handle tonight. I can put a smile on my face and be happy, actually happy for Shelby and Isaiah. Then we will go home and life can go back to normal.”
She gives me another smile and I wonder if it’s really genuine. And if it isn’t, when did she get so good at hiding what is really going on? And normal?
Normal for us has been like a black and white silent film lately. There is nothing about our life for the past few months that alludes to the fact that we are newlyweds. Our nights are full of unattractive sweats, heating pads, and bottles of radically unsexy medication. On nights where sex does make its way into our schedule, it’s awkward and bland, trying to make sure each other is satisfied and not uncomfortable. There isn’t any more sexy red lingerie or flirty anticipation, no ease or naturalness. The passion is gone. I really, really don’t want “normal” anymore.
“Okay,” I whisper. “So you don’t want to talk about it then?”
“No. I do not.” Her voice is a little too sharp. I try to let it go, but I just can’t.
“Jess, I need to do something. I can’t just keep watching you go through all this without doing anything. Please, tell me what I can do.” My voice breaks, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. It’s the only thing I feel like I have control over right now.
I can’t stand not talking about it, ignoring every time that I find my wife, the love of my life, completely broken and not knowing what to do to fix or help her. I have to do something, I have to help her. I promised to protect and defend her and stand by her side regardless of the good or the bad, and I’m a man of my word. I have to do something, I can’t continue to stand by and watch as she slowly loses herself in this fight.