The Other P-Word

by MK Schiller

  “Sorry, Billie, but I’m winning. Thanks to these guys, I’m a few bets away from paying off my Abercrombie credit card.”

  “That’s your excuse?” Marley asked.

  “What can I say? I’m an addict,” he explained.

  “To gambling?”

  “No…skinny jeans,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “That’s enough.” Mom held the remote toward the flat screen to turn it off.

  I held out my hand to stop her. “I want to watch.”

  “Why torture yourself, Billie?”

  “I’m curious, Mom.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Stevie said.

  “Actually, it might be,” Dillon said.

  “We are really sorry, Billie,” Adam said. “We never intended for it to get this far.”

  I waved my hand away, not exactly accepting the apology but not denying it either.

  “What does ‘poem’ mean?” I asked, pointing to the column on the whiteboard that had checkmarks for yes or no.

  Adam chuckled. “Sometimes he reads these ridiculous poems to the girls. We bet if he’s going to recite one. They are godawful.”

  “Wait, I think he’s about to do one now,” Rick said. “You have to see this, Billie. I can’t believe this girls fall for it…like, every time.”

  We all turned our attention to the screen. Preston held the redhead’s hand, his face surprisingly expressionless. Holy shit, did he get Botox? “You mean so much to me. I wrote this for you, Saffron.”

  Her name was Saffron? Then I remembered I came from a family of strange names too. I was named for a rock star. She was named for a spice. Who was I to judge?

  “This should be good,” Dillon said, scooting a bit on the recliner and patting the space next to him. I took the seat.

  Preston took a long sip of wine and cleared his throat before starting. “Two hearts, breathing in circles, to a rhythm and rhyme our minds can’t even comprehend. Into the night, tucked under the stars that shine above us, making promises—”

  “As delicious as the wine,” I finished.

  Stevie clapped her hand to her mouth so hard, I thought she might have hurt herself.

  “I wrote that poem. He’s plagiarizing my work.”

  The swallows accompanied by the bobbing Adam’s apples in the room held their own comical rhythm and rhyme.

  “Best. Poem. Ever,” Adam said, breaking the awkward silence.

  “I love that poem,” Rick added.

  “Amazing,” Dillon continued.

  “You’re very talented,” Damien added.

  The situation was way too ridiculous to call for anger. Besides, these boys were clearly already suffering under their wives’ scrutiny. My rage meter was running on empty anyway. I giggled, which turned into a laugh, which became a symphony of laughs as everyone added their voices. The tension broke, and we spent the rest of the night joking and making fun of Preston’s attempts to be suave.

  I realized that the girls on the show were not the single brain celled harlots I’d expected. Many were doctors, lawyers, community organizers, or business owners. And just like me, they were trying to open a door to the possibility of something wonderful and coming up short.

  “Why would they go on a show like this?” Stevie asked the question we were all thinking.

  “Simple. They’re looking for love,” I answered. In the end, I found myself sympathizing with them because Preston wasn’t worth their affections. Just like he wasn’t worth mine.

  I watched more than the television that night. I stole glances at my family. Marley started sweeping up the popcorn. Rick stopped her, taking the broom and insisting he take care of it. Afterward she sat on his lap, even though there were available seats in the room. He rubbed her belly, and kissed her shoulder with a tenderness that spoke volumes about their relationship without uttering a single word.

  Adam made more popcorn and threw it in Stevie’s mouth with such accuracy that I knew they did this all the time. She laughed at a joke he told her. He whispered in her ear and her blush confirmed he’d said a few sweet, naughty things.

  George woke up and Damien brought him downstairs wrapped in an afghan. The boy sat on his father’s lap, sucking his thumb while Mom signed a song to him—her way of sharing music with him. The way Damien looked at her while she was looking at George made my heart melt.

  This was love. It surrounded me. It was what I wanted. I needed to avoid any diversions and Evan Wright was definitely a dangerous detour. He wasn’t Mr. Right.

  In fact, he was all kinds of wrong.

  Chapter Nine

  That night, tucked into bed, I heard a different scream than usual from Rick and Marley’s room. It was so loud it penetrated the walls and the fear in it pierced right through me. What followed was a serious of loud thumps.

  “Get the fuck off me,” she cried, the shrieks echoing through the house.

  My body broke out into a cold sweat. My hands shook as I threw off the covers.

  In any normal circumstance, I’d think my sister was being attacked, but I knew that wasn’t the case here.

  Rick wasn’t capable of that.

  Marley was having a night terror. Stevie, Marley and I were as close as any sisters could be, but we had different fathers. Marley’s dad had been a castration-worthy pedophile and she’d suffered years of silent trauma because of it. My hands curled into fists, my rage meter on full again, wanting to kill the man, except he was already dead.

  She hadn’t had a terror in years. We had no idea where she went during those times, except that it was obvious she was still trying to fight him off her. I rushed toward her bedroom but stopped myself before I slammed into the door.

  “You fucking bastard, don’t touch me! I’m going to kill you.”

  I couldn’t go in there. This wasn’t like when we were kids. Her husband was with her.

  I took a step back and leaned my forehead against the door.

  “It’s all right, baby. I’m here and I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again. I promise.” His voice was calm and soothing.

  The words were perfect, but they were more for him than her. When Marley was in this state, she couldn’t hear anything. In the horrible mornings that followed one of these events, she couldn’t remember a thing, but the look of guilt on her face when she’d see Mom’s black eye or the scratch on my face was heartbreaking. It had gotten to a point that we wouldn’t even tell her, choosing to cover our bruises to save her from those feelings.

  I timidly knocked on the door. “Rick, do you need my help?”

  “We’re okay, Billie. Thanks.”

  I didn’t leave, though. I sat in the dark hallway in the fetal position, keeping vigil on my sister. Maybe I was intruding in some way, but we shared the same blood and her burdens were mine to bear. I needed to be present for her in some way, even if it was just through my pitiful prayers.

  It went on for twenty-two excruciating minutes.

  During that time, she’d called Rick a molester, a rapist, a sick man and a dozen other twisted descriptors and just the opposite of who he was.

  And yet he continued to whisper sweet, soothing words to her. I imagined he held her hands to keep her from clawing at him and…herself.

  Only when she was fully exhausted did she stop fighting and start crying, the sounds of her pent-up anguish circulating in the air around me.

  Oh, sister, I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it away. Trade your pain. I’d take it all. I’d make it mine if it meant you didn’t have to suffer.

  I had no doubt Rick was thinking the same things. That was when he sang to her. I mouthed the words along with him, wiping away the annoying tears that stung my eyes. Rick wasn’t the best singer, but that didn’t matter. The song he chose was our song. Our family anthem. But it was also Marley’s song in every way.

  Three Little Birds by Bob Marley.

  * * * *

  Rick acted chipper in the morning, as
if the previous night hadn’t occurred. Of course, Marley didn’t remember, and thank goodness, he didn’t have any noticeable marks on him.

  “I made breakfast,” he announced when Marley and I came down the steps.

  “What a good husband I have,” Marley said.

  “I think I’m going to come home tonight and not stay over until Wednesday,” he said, holding out a chair for her.

  “That’s ridiculous. This is a big account for you. You’ve already committed.”

  He placed a plate in front of her loaded with turkey bacon, cheesy eggs and pancakes. All of her favorites.

  “Billie, please sit. Eat,” he said, gesturing to me.

  “Looks delicious,” I said, taking the seat across from Marley.

  “You have to stay over, Rick,” Marley said, scooping eggs on both plates.

  Since I was Rick’s assistant, I also understood the importance of him staying there. There were meetings he needed to attend and presentations he had to give.

  “I’m here,” I offered. I gave him a meaningful look. His nod was slight but he understood.

  “I’ll probably be working late most nights this week anyway,” she said, the sentence interrupted by her long yawn.

  Poor sister.

  “Again? This is getting out of hand.”

  She shrugged. “Since Henley retired, his son’s been running us ragged trying to gear up for the winter line.”

  “You need to tell them you can’t stay late.”

  “What makes you think I can’t?” she asked, her voice sharp.

  “Because you’re exhausted and pregnant.”

  “They expect all of us to work. I can’t be a special case. They’re not going to make an exception for me.”

  He didn’t say it, but I was sure Rick and I were having the exact same thought. She was a special case.

  “Then quit.”

  “I’ve been there for a long time. I enjoy my job. Are you going to spend the last morning I see you for three days arguing with me?”

  His jaw tightened and a vein pulsed at his neck, until he threw up his hands and stormed into the kitchen.

  “I’m going to get some milk. Want anything?” I asked.

  She shook her head, mumbling, “He’s grumpy today.”

  Rick’s knuckles were white from grasping the edge of the counter, his head bent.

  “You’re not going to tell her?”

  “I’m not sure if I should. It wouldn’t make a difference, and she’d just feel guilty about it.”

  “Why are they back? The terrors?”

  “Hormones,” he said, saying the word as if it was something dirty.

  “So it’s the pregnancy?”

  He turned around, his deep breath holding too much weight for one person. “She can’t take her medication.”

  “Are there no other options?”

  His lips curved, but the expression was much too tense and sad to be a smile. “Not if she wants to have the baby…and she does. We’ve discussed that at length. I don’t know what to do here.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m here. I’ll watch out for her. She’ll be fine. Tell me what else I can do.”

  “On Thursday, she has a doctor’s appointment.”

  “You want me to go with her?”

  “I’m meeting her there. I organized my flight around it so I’d have enough time to get to the doctors, but in case anything happens and I can’t be there, I’d appreciate if you could go with her. It’s routine, but…well, nothing about this pregnancy is routine.”

  “No problem, Rick.”

  “Can you call or text me every morning or night? Let me know what’s happening here? I can jump on the next flight if it’s bad.”

  “I will.” I glanced at my watch. “You need to go.”

  “You’re a good assistant, Billie. Keeping me on my feet,” he said.

  “Well, unless you want to walk to Boston, I’d suggest you get a move on, boss.”

  I followed him out to the living room.

  “Goodbye, sweetheart,” he said, kissing Marley’s check.

  “Wait, that’s not a proper kiss.” She slid her chair back and stood. “I’m going to walk you to the door.”

  He picked up his luggage, sliding an arm around her. I shouldn’t have watched. It wasn’t my place, but I often made the excuse that I was a writer and eavesdropping was a necessity in my profession. Plus, it was hard to look away from Marley and Rick. The bond between them acted like a magnet.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead.

  “I’m sorry we fought. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” she said, adjusting his tie.

  “You didn’t.”

  “You make ten times more money than me, but you have to understand that my job is very important to me.”

  “It’s not about the money, sweetheart. It never was. I’d want you to quit no matter how much or how little you make. At least consider going part-time.”

  “There aren’t any part-time positions. I can’t be one of those people that sits at home all day and eats ice cream.” She tilted her head back at me. “No offense, Billie.”

  “I wasn’t offended until you said that,” I replied, busying myself with taking a second helping of eggs. Rick looked a little shocked. Although he’d been with us for a long time, he hadn’t figured us all out yet. Marley was making a joke, trying to lighten the tension, and I had no problem being the subject matter.

  “We’ll talk when I get back.” He took her in his arms, dipped her slightly, and gave her one of those movie kisses, where I could almost hear the music intensify and see the spotlight on them.

  He steadied her in place and dropped to his knees, and pressed his lips against her stomach. “Bye-bye, baby. Daddy will be home in a few days, but I’ll call you every night and Mommy will hold the phone to her belly so you can hear me.”

  I stood and approached Marley as Rick left. We watched him pull out of the driveway in the way they do on fifties sitcoms. She put her arm around me.

  “I had a night terror, didn’t I?”

  “Um…I… How did you know?”

  “I may not have punched or bitten him, but I could see it in his face.” She turned to me. “And yours.”

  Chapter Ten

  Marley didn’t have another terror while Rick was gone—thank God for that. On Thursday, we were hosting the whole family for supper. Rick’s flight was on time, so he was able to meet Marley at the doctor’s. Marley left work early for her appointment, and she planned to be home around four to start cooking.

  At half past, I started worrying and texted her. I got no answer. So I texted Rick with the same result.

  At five, I called both of them. Nothing.

  By half past five, I called the doctor’s office, which was closed, but the doctor’s answering service said they’d patch the message. The doctor called me back immediately and informed me they’d left at three-thirty. Where could they be?

  The family was supposed to be here at six. I tried not to panic. I started the sauce for Marley and set the table, managing to call both of them in the few minutes between each activity.

  I thought about calling Stevie or Mom, but they would just panic right along with me. I stared at my phone and dialed his number instead. He’d be getting ready for his shift about now. I wasn’t sure what Evan would be able to do for me, but I had to talk to someone. And for some reason the only someone I wanted was him. We’d hung out a few times and texted each other. Even though I yearned for him in other ways, I was content…no, honored to have his friendship.

  “Hey, girl,” his deep, raspy voice greeted after the first ring.

  “Hi, Evan.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “How do you know something’s wrong?”

  “I can feel it from here, Price. I can hear it in your voice. Talk to me.”

  “My sister’s pregnant. She went to the doctor’s and was supposed to be home two hours ago. I called the doctor and she lef
t on time. I don’t know what to do.” I spoke so fast each word mingled with the next.

  “First, calm down and take a deep breath.”

  I did as he’d asked.

  “Slow breaths.”

  I didn’t realize how much I needed the air until he’d said that.

  “Two hours isn’t that long. She could have stopped to eat or run an errand.”

  “She’s not answering her phone. We’re having a family dinner tonight. She wouldn’t be late.”

  “Do you want me to come there? I can pick you up and we can look for her.”

  The sound of the door opening filled me with relief. “They’re here. I’m good. Thanks Evan.”

  “Any time, Billie. Call me later.”

  “I will.”

  I sprinted to the door, ready to barrage them with questions, but the looks on their faces halted me. Marley gave me one of her signature ‘I’m fine’ smiles, but it had never fooled me, especially when Rick looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

  “The baby?” I asked, as a tear slid down my check.

  “The baby’s good. Healthy,” Marley said, cupping my chin. “I have to get started on dinner. I’m running so late. Sorry I didn’t call you back. Traffic.”

  “I started the sauce.”

  “Thanks, Billie.”

  She walked toward the kitchen.

  “Let me help,” I said.

  “Actually, if you could run to the store and grab a carton of almond milk, that would be great. I meant to go myself, but forgot.”

  Clearly, whatever conversation was going on between Rick and Marley wasn’t over. “Sure, I can do that.” I slipped on my Chuck Taylors and almost made it out of the door before I realized I didn’t have a mode of transportation. “Can I borrow your car, Marley?”

  “It’s in the shop,” she said quickly.

  Before I could question it, Rick threw his keys toward me. “Take mine.”

  * * * *

  By the time I got back, the whole family was there. Marley did a great job pretending that nothing was wrong, but she overacted in these situations, mimicking a false sense of exuberance.

  Rick on the other hand was quiet, almost stoic in a way. His eyes rested on her with a tangible heaviness.