by Kristin Rae
But the sourness dissolves into sympathy as soon as I see my mom asleep in the hospital bed, connected to tubes and flashing monitors and machines that beep. Dad leaves the room so we can be alone and I take slow steps toward her until I’m close enough to grab her hand, but I don’t want to wake her. My eyes study everything about her, from her messy hair to the extra creases near her eyes. I’ve never noticed before how naked her ears look without the small diamond studs Dad gave her that she always wears.
Suddenly I’m worried about the earrings. Where are they? Did someone take them off her?
In a tizzy, I scan the bedside table for them, simultaneously searching my recent memories to figure out if she’s even had them on lately. But I’ve been so annoyed with all the pregnancy stuff I didn’t want to know about—heightened sense of smell, nosebleeds, bigger boobs—that I’ve spent most of my time at home not looking at her. Not even being in the same room with her.
What if something happens to her and I’ve missed all that time by being angry just because they’re having a baby at an unusual age? What if—
“Oh. Maddie. You didn’t have to come here.” Ma’s voice is quiet. She reaches a hand out for me, then winces at the tug from the IV in her arm.
I clasp her hand, and she squeezes with more strength than I thought she’d have right now. All my acting experience fails me as I try to stay strong for her. I would hate for her to think of the worry on my face as a reflection of how she looks.
“How are you feeling?” I finally manage to ask.
“Much better now.” She presses a button on a clunky remote and the head of the bed buzzes as it lifts her into an almost sitting position. The machine hooked up to her beeps, but she ignores it.
Too many sounds. Too many blinkies. Too many wires.
“Dad said you’re going to have to be on bed rest or something?”
“They just want me to take it easy, so I’ll have to stay home and relax. I can still walk around when I need to; it’s not like I’m going to need a bedpan or anything. Yet, at least,” she adds with a laugh that I struggle to return.
I stare at the gray floor and try to imagine lying in bed for two months. Not being able to go anywhere, getting up only to pee or eat meals. I shudder.
“I may need to borrow from your extensive movie collection,” she says. “So all your boyfriends can sing to me while you’re at school and your dad’s at work.”
“Of course you can watch them.” Despite the smile on my face, my bottom lip trembles. “You paid for most of them, anyway.” I glance at the ceiling to keep my eyes from welling over.
“Hey,” she says, pulling me closer, “none of that. I’m fine, the baby’s fine.”
“Why did this happen? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. They’re not always sure why things like this happen, sweetheart. Maybe he was just a little anxious to get here, that’s all. But they stopped it in time, and he can cook in there a while longer.”
“Did you find out for sure it’s a boy?” I ask, tears dripping down my cheeks through silent laughter at my own ridiculousness.
She shakes her head, then shifts away from me so there’s space on the edge of the bed. “Come here.”
Careful not to disconnect her from any tubes or cords, I finagle myself to lie next to her and rest my head on her shoulder. As soon as both of her arms are around me, the tears really start to flow.
“I’m sorry,” I say, barely audible.
“Shhh,” she coos like the wonderful mother she’s always been to me.
Suddenly I’m six years old, being pacified after a nightmare or during a thunderstorm, or when Dad’s out of town and my little brain doesn’t understand why I can’t see him.
I’m basically whimpering into her neck. “I’ve been such a brat. So horrible to you. And Dad. I don’t know how you even put up with me ignoring you like I have. That’s not me. It’s not us, not the way we are.”
Stroking my arm, she says, “It hasn’t been easy, I’m not going to lie, but I understand. I really do. You’re already dealing with being a teenager, which isn’t always a walk in the park. Then we uproot you to a new state, new school, where you have to make new friends. You started a job, you got a part in a musical you have to practice for nearly every day. Then there’s the new boyfriend.” I can feel her smile at that. “Throw a pregnant mom into the mix . . .”
“And you get one certifiable hot mess,” I finish, sniffling and swiping at my eyes.
She laughs. “Ah, but you’re my hot mess. And I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I choke out.
“My girls,” Dad’s voice calls from behind me. He leans down and kisses each of us on the head. “Everyone all right here?”
“We’re perfect,” Ma answers, taking her turn to kiss my forehead.
There’s a brief moment of silence where I imagine them exchanging a look. Maybe I’ve earned back the one that says We have such a great kid, why can’t everyone be more like her? I hope so.
“You have a visitor,” Dad says.
“What?” Ma asks, tensing and reaching for her hair.
“Not you,” he says, then lays a hand on my shoulder. “Jesse’s in the waiting room. He said he could take you home when you’re ready.”
Jesse. I completely forgot to text him to let him know where I’d be when he got out of practice. Tingles spread through me at the thought of him finding me anyway.
“I’m going to stay here with your mom tonight,” Dad says.
“You’ll be okay without us?” Ma asks me as I slide off the bed and wrap my arms around Dad’s middle. “Maybe you could stay with Angela? I can call Sherri and see if it’s okay.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ll take care of it. You just rest.”
They promise they’ll be home tomorrow and remind me I can call to check in anytime. After a final round of hugs, reassurances, and I-love-yous, I grab my backpack and turn to leave.
“I like that boy,” I hear Dad say to Ma before the door closes. “Very respectful.”
Some girls might not appreciate parental approval of their boyfriends, but I find myself stretching taller, proud that my dad trusts my judgment.
I find Jesse with his butt balanced on the outer edge of his chair, head leaning back on the top of the backrest, staring at the ceiling, hands folded over his stomach, legs spread wide, one of them bouncing like crazy. He’s exchanged his cleats for sneakers, but it occurs to me this is the first time I’ve seen him in baseball attire. It’s not an official uniform, though he looks awfully adorable wearing white socks streaked with clay and pulled up to his knees, dark blue athletic shorts that give me a glimpse of his bare thighs, which have been hiding since warmer weather, and a white, long-sleeve T-shirt with “Fernwood Panthers Varsity Baseball” printed in blue across the chest.
I walk over to him and kick the shoe of his bouncing leg. “Nervous about something?”
He startles and springs to his feet before pulling me into a hug and resting his head on top of mine.
“You okay?” he asks in my ear.
“I’m okay.” His shirt’s damp against my face, and I inhale the lingering odor of sweat. “Smells like you had a good practice.”
“It was fine.” His laugh blows a breeze through my hair. “How’s your mom? Your dad told me a little bit, but I felt weird asking too many questions.” He takes a step back to look at me.
“I think everything’s fine now.” My eyebrows tense. “How did you know I was here, anyway?”
Jesse clears his throat and links arms with me, turning us toward the exit. “Brian called me.”
“Oh. Wow.” I realize I never said good-bye to Brian. I don’t even remember when he left. “That was nice of him.”
“He also said you were zombie-ish and thought I might want to come up here to be with you.”
I laugh. Zombie-ish. “Of course he did.”
Jesse opens the passenger door of his truck an
d I climb in, letting my bag thud to the floorboard.
He slides his hands around my waist and leans against my seat. “You tell me what you want to do. We can go somewhere to eat, go home, drive around. What do you need?”
My heart warms as I stare into his green eyes. “Home, maybe? I don’t know. I’m not sure I could eat anything right now. Oh, but you’re probably starving, aren’t you? We can go somewhere if you want.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll find something at the house.”
I take a deep breath and slouch into the seat back. “I’m really glad you came here for me.” My chin threatens to quiver and I close my eyes tightly, as if shutting out one of the senses will keep me from falling apart.
He doesn’t reply, only touches his lips to my temple ever so gently, then closes the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Angela’s in her room doing homework, Elise has been tucked in and kissed by all of us, Mrs. Morales is in the TV room catching up on the soap operas she recorded today, and Mr. Morales left this morning for the Middle East or somewhere on a business trip. Jesse reheats dinner for himself, and I stare out the kitchen window into the blackness of the backyard.
My mind zips back to the night I first learned I was getting a sibling, and how good I felt jumping out my shock on the trampoline. I can’t see it, but I know it’s out there, waiting for me, calling to me.
“Mind if I go jump while you eat?” I ask Jesse as I head for the door.
He laughs. “Want me to turn the lights on for you?”
I shake my head. “I think the moon’s bright enough.”
“Okay.” He sits at the breakfast table with a plate of an unidentifiable cheesy, spicy-smelling mess. Another one of his mom’s cooking experiments. “I’ll come find you when I’m done.”
Take your time, I almost tell him. The promise of being alone for even just a few minutes rushes me out the door, across the flagstone, through the grass, and up the cold miniature ladder. I hear the crinkle of dead leaves break apart under my feet as I begin to bounce, and soon there’s nearly a pile of them in the middle. I make it a game, trying to manipulate which way the leaves go with my jumps, but they dance around me as they please. I dance with them, flying high, kicking, doing splits in the air, bouncing off my back over and over until I can’t push myself upright.
Exhausted, I lie among the leaves and catch my breath, my hair fanning all around me. I stare up between the silhouettes of the tree branches to the hundreds of tiny dots of light that sparkle against the black sky. My eyes water and my throat stings but I focus on the stars and force my worry aside.
She’s going to be fine. The baby will be fine.
We’ll all be fine.
A tear slips down the side of my face despite my inner pep talk, just as someone comes outside through the back door. Footsteps grow closer, and soon Jesse’s crawling toward me on his hands and knees. He flips over onto his back in a practiced, springy motion and lays his head on my stomach like it’s a pillow. Little fluttering things awaken underneath him, and I relish the electricity that spreads through me and dries the tears I’m thankful it’s too dark for him to see.
“When Angela and I were little,” Jesse says through a yawn, “we’d shine flashlights at the stars. We swore it made them brighter.”
I giggle, picturing a miniature Jesse lying out here on the trampoline with a flashlight aimed at the sky. I reach for his hair, but stop myself just before my fingers dive in. It feels like something I should be allowed to do now, especially since I can kiss him anytime I want, but it’s so new.
“The sky doesn’t look like this back home,” I say as I start slow, brushing a palm over the ends of his hair. “We always lived too close to the city. I could only ever really see the brightest few.”
“I’ll miss nights like this when I live in a big city,” he says, taking me off guard. We haven’t really discussed future plans yet. “One day.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Some of the guys want to go to the University of Texas, which is in Austin, so I’m considering trying to play for them, or maybe the Aggies. I’m also thinking about LSU or North Carolina. This season I should be able to line some things up, talk to some scouts. See what my options are.”
“I have an option for you,” I say, getting a bit braver with his hair and lightly massaging his scalp. “You could study theatre. With me.”
“Uh, don’t think so.” He laughs. “That’s not gonna get me on a pro team.”
I don’t feel like igniting an argument tonight, so I drop it, indulging him with his professional baseball fantasy. “Fine, fine. What team do you want to play for?”
An owl hoots from somewhere in the trees as he considers my question.
“It’s not really something you choose, but if I played for the Astros I could live close to my family. Though it might be fun to go somewhere really far away, like Boston.”
Pretty far from here, but relatively close to New York, where I hope to be.
“Boston. Is that the Red Sox?”
He turns his head toward me, the movement tickling my stomach. “I’m surprised you know that.”
“It’s one of the few I do know,” I admit. “In Chicago we have the White Sox, right? Well, I remember getting confused when I first heard about the Red Sox. I thought Chicago’s team had to change their name for some reason, so I imagined that the person who washed the uniforms accidentally put something red in with all their white socks. Only when I got older and learned how to do laundry myself did I figure out it would have only made them pink anyway.”
Jesse laughs so hard he starts coughing and has to sit up. When he composes himself, he leans over me, balancing on his elbows on either side of my head.
“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any cuter.”
I start to smile but he crushes his mouth to mine. All my emotions from the day fill my head in a rush and I grab his hair by the fistful, yanking him down to me so hard he falls onto my chest, nearly knocking the wind out of me. But he’s still not close enough.
He slides a hand down my torso and hooks it on my waist, then pulls me against him, leaning back at the same time until we’re both on our sides, facing each other. The stretchy fabric underneath bounces us gently. I palm his neck and pull him closer, our lips parting again and again, the lengths of our bodies pressed together. He slips his ankle between my calves, and I shiver as his fingers make contact with the bare skin just above my jeans. I expect his hand to wander, exploring my back, but he moves to comb his fingers through my long hair.
“I like that boy. Very respectful.”
And my mind ruins everything when I remember I’m spending the night here, and now I’m wondering if my parents were thinking straight enough to realize they suggested I sleep under the same roof as my new boyfriend.
Feigning the need to come up for air, I let my kisses travel toward his cheek, then to his scar. I touch it lightly with a fingertip. “How’d you get that?” I ask in a whisper so as not to disrupt the calm of the night.
“Chicken pox,” he answers quietly. “I was six and remember being very itchy.”
“Aww, poor little thing.”
I hug him for a moment before rolling myself onto my back and releasing a few breathy laughs. Lying side by side, my head resting on Jesse’s arm, we listen to the quiet of the night, watching a series of fast-moving clouds hide the moon.
In my sleepy haze, I think about the two sides of Jesse. The confident jock with a fan club and dreams of a sports career, next to the secret dancer who moves with strength and grace and doesn’t share it with anyone. Except me.
I smile in the darkness, thankful to be in on his most guarded secret. Happy he chooses to dance with me.
* * *
After a few texts back and forth with Dad to say good night, I trudge upstairs and get ready for bed, then open the door to Angela’s room, relieved to see she’s still awake. I didn’t want her thinking I
slept in another room and snuck in just before the alarm went off in the morning or something. Though seeing her after she knows I just kissed Jesse is only slightly less awkward.
“Hey,” she says from her usual side of the bed, flipping through an issue of People.
“Hey. What’s the latest?” I ask, nodding toward the magazine.
“Nothing I believe,” she says, tossing it aside.
“Then why read it?”
She shrugs. “Better than homework.”
I slide into bed next to her and adjust the pillow so it’s as flat as possible. “I always forget to bring my memory-foam pillow over here. I don’t know how you sleep on these awful things.”
“Did you brush your teeth?” Angela randomly asks. “Because I wouldn’t want any of Jesse’s cooties crawling over here.”
“Cooties?” I let a cautious laugh escape. “I brushed. We’re good.”
She clicks off the lamp and settles into the sheets. My eyes adjust to the pale blue of the plug-in night-light near the door and I stare at the posters on her walls. Young new actors and musicians I’m unfamiliar with keep watch over us, their “sexy” smiles taking on a more sinister if not perverted vibe in the dimness. I much prefer my classic posters over these, but I shiver when I think of sleeping in my own house alone all night, knowing my parents are at the hospital with the beeps and the blinks.
“So, I’ve been wondering,” I begin, too curious to fall asleep yet. “Are we good? You and me?”
“What do you mean?”
“With Jesse and everything. I know you were really against it. I mean, you even encouraged me to go on a date with Brian. Epic disaster.”
“Hey! Y’all are still friends, so don’t blame me for the kiss of nothingness.”
“I don’t, I don’t. I guess it was just weird that you were trying to play cupid all of a sudden.”
She grunts.
“What?”
“Well . . . I haven’t been totally honest with you.”
“What do you mean?” My brows scrunch together as I turn my head to look at her, even though I can’t see much in the weak light but a mass where her hair is.