by Scott, S. L.
I just paid the movers and I need a beer after being coerced by her feminine wiles to help carry about ten boxes up from the truck. I grab a beer out of the fridge. While drinking, I notice she’s not around. I set the beer on the counter behind me and walk through the living room, my steps echoing across the wood floors. I don’t call because I think she’s upstairs.
I check our room and then the baby’s room… I had a feeling. Don’t know why I didn’t come in here first. There she is. Sitting in the rocker in the corner, arm draped over her stomach protectively, eyes closed, humming.
Content.
I quietly kneel in front of her, trying not to disturb, but wanting to be close. She continues to hum. Contentment feels good.
“DYLAN!”
I run. I run so fast into the bedroom where she was napping when she calls for me. She’s sitting upright, hand over the small pooch that has formed in at her midsection. “Dylan! He moved. The baby moved.”
“What! Really?” I sigh, thankful she’s safe, that she’s all right.
“Yes, hurry. Come here and feel,” she replies, smiling and waving me closer. I rush, sitting down next to her. She places my hand on her stomach and shushes me. I smile but don’t laugh, waiting, anticipating, but nothing happens. After a minute or two, I’m a bit disappointed, but I don’t say so. I don’t want to ruin the moment for her though I can see she’s a little disappointed too. She starts talking to the baby, then humming, but still nothing. “Maybe he’s gone back to sleep.”
“You’re so sure it’s a boy, aren’t you?”
“I know it’s a boy.”
“How?”
“It’s just a feeling, but I know it.”
“So you’ll be happy with a boy?”
“I’m happy with whatever we get, but yes, a boy, someone like you.”
She’s all heart and soul. I can’t hold my smile. This feeling is bigger than that. As I gaze into her eyes, I see forgiveness and love. And I’m rendered speechless.
“Don’t cry, babe,” she says, wiping one of my tears away. Leaning forward she replaces the tear with a kiss. Lying back, she takes me with her, holding me close, my head on her chest and gently strokes my hair.
I hope one day I’ll deserve her, hoping I’m worthy of her kindness and love.
Everything. I will be everything she dreams of, wants, and needs. The baby moves beneath my hand, under my chin. One solid kick that startles me and I lift quickly to watch.
Another good kick and I laugh. “Hello, baby. Hi in there.” A double kick and I lose it, laughing. Looking at her, I proclaim, “The baby knows me. He knows my voice, Jules.”
Her smile turns gentle. “Well, of course, he does. You’re his dad.”
“I’m his dad.” Yes, I am his dad.
MY HANDS ARE sweating. Jules is smiling, perfectly content, knowing she’s right.
The sonogram technician announces, “It’s a boy!”
“You knew!” I say, “You knew all along.” I kiss her forehead just as smugness takes over her expression. “Go ahead. I know you want to.”
“I told you so,” she sing-songs, then laughs, making the technician laugh as well.
A month later, my thoughts are on her as I paint the baby’s room the perfect shade of sky blue, the perfect shade according to Jules. She’s the artistic visionary, so I do as I’m told. It makes me happy to do these domestic things. Grounds me to our life, a daily reminder of how good I have it.
A muralist shows up a day later to paint a universe across the ceiling, not dark and scary but a lighter, quite impressive one. “A universe of opportunities,” Jules says proudly.
The crib, changing table, and rocking chair are in place. Most details yet to come except for two I wasn’t aware of. I find her in the chair, rocking slowly back and forth when I arrive home from work one evening. “Hi,” I greet, leaning against the doorframe.
She smiles softly in the dim light of the fading day. “I picked the paintings up from the framers today.”
“Paintings?”
Her eyes are bright, happy as she stands and picks up two framed pictures while turning them around. I thought these would be great in the baby’s room. I laugh aloud when I see them. Great memories come back from our third date so many years ago.
“You kept these?” I ask.
“Actually, you kept these. I found them in a box that was brought over from the storage room.”
I hold up the kitten paint-by-numbers and smile. “I did a damn fine job on this.”
“Yes, you did, but I’m partial to my puppy painting.”
I chuckle. “I think they’re both pretty fantastic, just like the artists.”
“Only you know how to work a compliment for yourself into the conversation while praising others.”
With a smirk, I say, “I call it talent.”
“Oh you’re talented all right.” She leans up and kisses me on the lips, lingering a moment to enjoy it. I know why she does this, because I do the same.
Come July, Jules is big. I don’t say that out loud, but she is. She’s basically waddling into the kitchen and sits down. But I love every pound she’s put on, every love pound she’s gained for our baby. Looking across the table at her, I ask, “You nervous about having the baby and how life will change?”
“No. What reason would I have to be nervous? I know what I’m getting myself into.”
Laughing, I flirt. “Oh baby, you haven’t seen anything yet”
She rubs her belly and giggles. “You gonna give me rainbows and unicorns?”
“Yes, and leprechauns too.”
“Sounds magical.”
“Magically delicious.”
“Are you quoting cereal boxes now?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“So you are nervous?”
She shrugs, “Kind of nervous and just a little afraid.”
“So you’re nervous enough that you’re quoting cereal slogans, but just know,” I say, reaching across and taking her hand. “I’m here for you. You don’t ever have to be afraid.”
She sits back in her chair and adds, “I miss my abs. Do you think I’ll ever get them back?”
Laughing, I reply, “Not if I can get you knocked up a couple more times. But, no worries, baby, you’ll always be sexy to me.”
“Charmer.”
“I try.” I even wink for emphasis.
EIGHT HOURS AFTER arriving at the hospital, our beautiful son, Maxwell Peter Somers, is welcomed into our world, forever changing our lives for the better.
I was warned time would fly, told to embrace every day to its fullest and enjoy the little moments with the baby. Everyone was right. My little Max is growing so fast, already a toddler. I watch Max wobble to his dad, happy as can be. I can’t believe he’s already a year and a half old. I’m lost in thought, finding myself lost in thought a lot these days. I don’t reflect too much though. Life is too good in the here and now to dwell on the past.
“Hey, Jules, I’ve been thinking,” Dylan says and I look up. “What do you think about moving closer to our families?”
Surprised, I sit up on the couch. “Leave New York?”
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it lately.”
“I’d move back.”
“Just like that?”
I nod, “Yes, just like that.”
Instead of walking, Max drops to his knees and begins crawling to his jumper swing. Dylan puts him in, securing him before Max starts bouncing happily away. That boy has the strongest thigh muscles from that thing, which makes us smile.
Dylan sits next to me on the couch, his arm wrapping around my shoulders as I continue, “I want more kids too. I want to have another baby or two.”
His eyebrows shoot up, but he only says, “Okay.”
“And I want to stay home with them. I’ve missed so much with Max and I’m tired of it. I want to be there for every feeding, laugh, even poop… I want to be there for it all.”
“Okay.”
“The sooner the better,” I say.
“I had no idea… well, I had an idea, but I guess I didn’t know you were thinking about moving.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I didn’t think it was possible because of our jobs. I’ve been dreaming about living in your parent’s neighborhood. I love their home. Is there a way for us to afford that area?”
Dylan chuckles, glancing at Max, then back to me. He gives me a sweet kiss on the temple before he replies, “I’ve done really well this year and with all of your commissions we can definitely afford that neighborhood. Once we sell this place, we could probably buy a house outright. You can pick out the house of your dreams.”
“DYLAN!” MY HANDS are shaking and I need him. He’s the only one who can make things right. Make my world right.
“Jules! Where are you?”
“Upstairs,” I shout, knowing I won’t wake Max because he’s with Nana and Papa.
I hear his steps. They’re thunderous as he comes up the wood stairs, down the hall, barreling into the doorframe while making the sharp turn into our room. “Jules?”
I hold it up, eye level to him. The stress and fear that covered his face evaporates and he smiles, a hammer in one hand and a white picket in the other, both dropped to the floor with a loud bang.
I’m in the air, his arms around my middle holding me up and he spins, making me squeal in delight.
“You’re pregnant.”
“Your babies take after their father.”
With a smile, he asks, “Great abs?”
“Yeah,” I laugh, “Great abs, cute butts, and they are very determined to be a part of my life.”
Grabbing me, he flops us onto the bed, rolling gently on top of me. I smile, brushing the hair that has fallen down over his forehead away. “How do you feel?”
Both of his eyebrows shoot to the roof, but his smile gives him away. “The more that ties us together the better.” He emphasizes his point by pressing his pelvis against mine.
Staring into his eyes, I say, “Our souls are bound together, our babies are made from that love. We are forever.”
He leans down to kiss my neck and I feel that familiar tingle begin, making me squirm beneath his body. I drag my fingers upward through his hair as he whispers, “How much time do we have?”
I know he’s referring to when Max will be dropped off, but I feel his love so strongly that I answer from my heart, “An eternity, my love.”
“How about I start by making love to you all day then?”
“Sounds like a good way to spend forever.”
I kiss him, putting every ounce of passion, every particle of my being into it, into Dylan and realize it’s not what’s happened in the past. That’s done and gone. It’s how we spend our future and mine was always meant to be spent with him.
Forever. Always.
ADVANCED ECONOMICS FOR Business Majors is as boring as it sounds. I look around, analyzing the others who are stuck taking this course too. “Hot girl, row three, eight seats from the right,” I say, nudging my buddy.
“Forget it. She dates Hurst.”
“Hurst the quarterback?”
“None other.”
“Fuck. Is it serious?”
He laughs under his breath. “Serious until she meets you, right?”
“Sounds about right.” I’m not overly arrogant. Girls just tend to leave their boyfriends for me. They’re always looking—grass is greener and all that. It makes me wonder if anyone truly does consider the repercussions when facing opportunity. “Forget her. It’s not worth it,” I reply.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m over cliché and she’s a walking billboard for it. She’s hot, but,” I say, ending my thoughts on her.
“Oh man, the great Somers reign is coming to an end?”
“Maybe,” I reply, shrugging. “Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe if I met the right girl.”
“They don’t exist from my experience.”
I laugh, then joke, “At twenty-one, you’re the least experienced guy I know, so that’s not saying much.”
“Fuck off,” he says, laughing.
The professor tells us to stop disrupting or to leave, so we let the conversation die since technically we’re supposed to be learning this crap. After class, we walk out into the overcast January day and I ask, “I’ve got to head over to the English building. Where you going?”
“P.E. I have a training session scheduled. The season is gearing up. Hey, look over there,” he says, nodding toward the bottom of the steps.
She’s there, the blonde from class, talking to her girlfriends, probably sorority sisters. I’ve messed around with enough sorority girls to know I don’t want to mess around with any more. They’re gossipers… and kinkier than you’d think. “Nah, really not interested.”
We walk down the steps, but stop at the bottom. I scan the quad, then turn to him. “You want to put in a few more gym hours tonight?”
“Yeah, I need it. I’ve gotten some holiday flab.”
I laugh. I didn’t gain any over the holiday break, but it’s not easy maintaining a six pack.
“Cool. Seven-thirty.”
“Hi, Dylan,” a girl’s voice interrupts.
I look to the source and it’s none other than the blonde who is apparently dating the quarterback of the football team.
My friend nudges me in jest, laughing, and says, “I’ll catch ya later.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever man. I’ll remember how you abandoned me. Some wing man you are.”
She approaches, giving me her best pearly white practiced smile.
“Hey, have we met?” I ask cuz I don’t know her name but she sure knows mine.
“No, but I’d wished we had sooner. I’m Brandilynn.”
“That’s unique.”
“I’m a unique kind of girl. Soooo, I heard you’re single and might be looking?”
I highly doubt that when she’s wearing a shirt that fifty other girls are wearing and she looks exactly like all of them, but I’ll play along… for a minute. “I heard Kevin Hurst has a girlfriend named Brandilynn.”
“So you’ve heard of me?” she asks, looking around and lowering her voice to a whisper. “Sometimes he can be a bit unbearable, especially during bowl season.”
“So you’re looking for a revenge-slash-need-attention-fuck?”
She fingers the collar of my button up and smiles deviously. “And you like to get right to the point I’ve heard.”
I step backward, her hand dropping back to her side. “What about I’m not interested?”
She smirks. “Everyone’s interested in me.”
“I’m not.”
Her expression changes, the anger apparent, her eyes staring me down like I’ll change my mind. “We both know what we want. Let’s just make this easy and simple. Meet me at my sorority house at seven tonight. We’ll grab some dinner and then go back to your place. Tit for tat. Easy.”
“Why do I have a feeling that tomorrow Hurst will be banging down my door taking a few swings at me, me breaking his throwing arm, and you rushing to his side, playing the innocent who was taken advantage of?”
“See, we’re on the same page.”
I almost respect her audacity. Almost. Since this scenario has me ending up getting my ass kicked by the football team, I can’t commit fully.
“I’m looking for a girl, but you’re not it.”
“Whatever girl you’re looking for doesn’t exist, so why not get the next best thing and be the envy of your friends.”
This conversation is going nowhere, so I walk off and leave her fuming.
I see a group of guys I know and join the conversation, knowing I have about fifteen minutes left until I need to be in class again. I’m listening to the play by play of the Rose Bowl from one of the guys who went out to Pasadena to watch when I hear a laugh nearby that draws my attention. I look over my shoulder and that’s when I see her. My heart skips about five
beats until her eyes meet mine, restarting it. Okay, a bit dramatic, but the voices that were once loud around me become muffled, her laugh taking precedence.
“Who’s that?” I ask the guy next to me.
“Some chick from my art history class. Hot, smart, and a great ass too.”
“Gotta name?”
“No, but I’m gonna ask her out…”
I’m already in motion.
I walk straight toward her, drawn just like the group that encircles her, listening to every word she says. Her eyes are bright despite the clouds. Dark hair that falls over her shoulders, and I imagine the contrast against my sheets.
She watches me, laughing to be polite as one of her friends tells her nothing that will be as important in her life as what’s about to happen. I know this because it’s the most important thing that has ever happened to me.
I’m nervous for the first time in years. It’s quite unsettling and very telling. She unnerves me, which is how I know she’s the one I want. “Hi, I’m Dylan Somers,” I introduce myself, staring at her, my heart stunned by her beauty.
“Hello. Juliette Weston,” she replies, shifting and blushing under my gaze.
Her friends disappear. My friends are long forgotten.
“Will you marry me, Juliette Weston?” Sounds like a pick-up line, but it’s not. I’d do it. I can feel my heart pounding, pulling me to her. Our souls attaching, becoming one.
Yes, I’d do it. For her.
She giggles, then quickly replies, “Why don’t we start with a first date.”
“How many dates until you’ll marry me?”
Her sweet smile falters as surprise momentarily takes over, but returns when she realizes I’m not joking. “Let’s just see how things go from here.”
From here… From this moment on, I was hers and she was always mine.
THE UMBRELLA GOES flying as I shove Dylan away from Jules and grab her by the waist. I set her down behind me, hoping to protect her. “Henry, get her in the car!”
“Austin!” she screams as Henry tries to pull her to safety.
When I turn back, Dylan’s eyes are locked on her as he makes a move to get to her. I punch him, a surprise blow as he’s knocked sideways. Recovering, he turns to me, ready to fight. “Austin, I love her.”