Continuum

by A. R. Hadley

  “Go." Annie smacked Cal’s hip.

  “You look happy, mi amor,” Rosa said after Cal made his way upstairs. “Content like that sleeping baby boy."

  Annie glanced at Benjamin and smiled.

  “You know … I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me since I arrived, my querida.” Rosa said as Annie took a bottle of water from the fridge and undid the cap. “Are you happy?”

  “Happy isn’t a state of constancy.”

  “This is true. But you have a glow about you. One that was absent the last time I was here. Are you expecting?”

  “No.” Annie laughed.

  “Do you want more?”

  Annie shrugged, sat down, and eyed the stroller. “I’m still getting over the shock of this little man.”

  “Motherhood brings about many changes … for the man and wife’s relationship too. The first year of marriage can be very hard. And you both had no time to settle in. Benjamin Everett came right away. Oh, I love his name.”

  Annie began to fiddle with the label on the bottle, peeling the paper away from the plastic.

  "Annie…” Rosa touched her wrist to stop the mindless fingering. “What is it, child?"

  “I know Cal has already told you everything.”

  “A woman’s courage is in her own voice. That’s where the strength comes back. It returns from your voice. I want to hear what you have to say.”

  Annie kept her gaze on the table, still playing with the paper, trying to avoid grabbing a piece of hair to twirl.

  “Your strength has never left you,” Rosa continued.

  “Why do you always know just what to say?”

  “I’m viejo. Old.” She chuckled.

  “No. It’s more than the right words. You make it easy to share. I can’t talk to my mother like this.”

  “Like what?” Rosa patted her wrist. “Tell me.”

  “I’m ashamed," Annie said and paused. She put her fist in front of her mouth and uttered a noise, almost choking on the sound as she turned her head away, trying to avoid tears. "I’m ashamed to say it aloud.”

  “Of what? Why, sweetheart?” Rosa tucked Annie’s hair behind her ear.

  Now, she would be less likely to twist it around her finger.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You’re a beautiful mother.”

  She rested her elbows on the table, put her face into her palms, and wept. Rosa combed her fingers through Annie’s hair.

  “I felt this too, you know?” Rosa said.

  Annie put her head up with a start.

  “No, I don’t know." She stopped crying, then sniffled. "What do you mean?”

  “When my second came along.” Rosa sighed then wiped Anne’s cheeks with her thumbs. “It hit me — bam! It was unexpected. The pregnancy and the sadness. I didn’t even know what it was. In those days, no one talked of this. There was no computer for information. There weren’t even many books, and yes, there was shame.”

  As Annie peered into Rosa’s eyes, she reconnected to her. A cord stretched from Annie’s heart to Rosa’s, building a bridge, a passage of understanding. It was a thick cord, knotted, not frayed.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Mmm, because I trust you. And I trust Cal. I waited for the right time, and now it’s here.” Rosa patted her thighs, exhaling. “It’s good. This was the time for us to talk. A time for everything.”

  She made the familiar noise with her tongue against the roof of her mouth. God, how Annie had even missed the clicking.

  “I didn’t want to push myself into your heart. I wanted you to ask me here.” Rosa looked around the house. “And here…” She held a hand over her chest and tapped the muscle.

  “I love you,” Annie whispered. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Rosa. “I do feel happy. I’m happy you’re here.”

  “You’re still tinkering with this thing?” Annie said as she walked into their garage, hands on her hips.

  Cal slid out from under the Land Rover Defender, his back flat against the creeper. He’d bought a ’97 when he’d returned to Ojai. He wanted something he could play with, fix up. He wanted something practical for surfing.

  He’d kept the Tesla.

  Because he liked it.

  And because he could.

  “Dinner is almost ready.”

  “Did you cook it?” Cal grinned.

  The whites of his teeth were even more of a contrast when he had grease on his cheek. His dimples remained ever present … and fucking adorable. A forty-six-year-old man shouldn’t be adorable. But he was. It didn’t matter what he was doing.

  “Yes. I know how. And maybe Rosa has been helping me.” She smiled.

  “We should take Ben surfing when the weather changes.”

  “I think he’ll need swimming lessons first.”

  “I hope he takes to the water.”

  “Like you.”

  “You aren’t so bad yourself.”

  “Please…”

  “You were…” Cal made his hands surround his stomach like a balloon.

  “Huge. Don’t you dare,” she teased, her eyes wide and shining.

  “I liked you big and pregnant.”

  “You liked my boobs.”

  “I still like those.” He bounced his brows and flung the towel he’d wiped his face with toward her shin. It cracked like a whip against her jeans.

  Annie tried to grab it and failed, and then she raced toward him, straddling him over the thingy on wheels. It slid a little across the floor as she sat atop his thighs.

  “Careful.” He placed his hands on her waist and stared into her eyes. And for once, she pinned him with her gaze. He couldn’t move. Didn’t want to.

  “You missed a little.” She took the cloth from his hand and wiped at the corner of his eye so close her breath caressed his skin, and her chest heaved near his chin.

  Then she set the rag aside and kissed him.

  She pulled his lower lip into her mouth, slid her tongue past his teeth, and moaned, gasped … sighed. She relaxed against his chest and inhaled.

  “You still smell like the beach even when you’re dirty.”

  “I’m always dirty,” he growled, then laughed as he stroked her hair. “Did I ever tell you what I smell when I’m near you?”

  She lifted herself partially up and gazed at him.

  “Home.” He moved his thumbs over her abdomen. “You smell like the trees I ran around in Ojai. Just before they blossom. It’s the sweetest thing. There’s nothing like it … except you.”

  He kept his hands exactly where they were, didn’t move a muscle, hardly blinked. A current passed between them. A wave. Maybe several. The kind that kissed the shoreline, gently leaving indentations. Imprints.

  He wanted her to be the one to come to him. To make the first move.

  “You never told me the meaning.” She brushed hair from his eyes. It was growing longer. Past his ears. Over his forehead. His face had scruff too. “You only ever said ‘home.’”

  Her fingers found their way to his lips, and she traced the shape, the edges, as she stared at them a good long while — until she could feel him grow antsy beneath her.

  “I want you to listen to a song.” He exhaled, then shifted. Although there wasn’t much he could do about the predicament in his pants. Not yet...

  “Are you sure you don’t want to text it to me first?”

  He smiled. “‘Still Remains’.”

  “I don’t think I know that one.”

  “Stone Temple Pilots.” He patted her thigh. “Up you go.”

  “I’m hungry.” She stretched as she stood.

  Those were two words he never thought he’d miss hearing… It was a relief.

  “Pull up the song first. Read—”

  “—the lyrics.” She rolled her eyes.

  He was up and had the cloth in his hand, then he slung it toward her ass. When it made contact, he laughed, then ran toward the door.

  Annie ch
ased him into the house, cursing and smiling.

  She was coming after him.

  “What are you up to?” Cal asked a few days later as he entered the living room.

  “Shhh,” Rosa said as she rocked Benjamin. He was in her arms and sleeping. His mouth was open a smidgeon. Cal had to resist the urge to smother him with kisses.

  Annie glanced over her shoulder at her husband. “I’m hanging pictures.”

  “I see that. I like the frames.”

  They were made of wood, raw-looking and jagged. She liked them too, the way the color of the roses and ocean complimented the splintering of the trees.

  “Where have you been hiding them?”

  “I never printed them.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I just never got around to it. I have so many to choose from.”

  “These are special.”

  “These are the flowers you thought would get you laid.”

  “It worked.”

  “Oy,” Rosa said, placing a palm to her forehead. “No necesito saber estas cosas.”

  Cal and Annie looked over at her and laughed, then they returned their attention to the two pictures, staring at the 18x24 glossy prints, showcasing the roses she’d drowned in the Atlantic Ocean. In one photo, the petals were floating in the sea. And in the other, they were partially covered in sand, thorns still visible.

  “Where’s the third?”

  “What?” Annie dragged her gaze from them, and Cal had his phone in her eyeline.

  She cupped a hand to her mouth, suppressing a squeal. Her eyes lit up as she grabbed it from him. “Oh my God, you still have it on your phone.”

  “Of course.” He smiled.

  …so full of himself. And certain.

  “If it had been on film, I would’ve slept with it under my pillow.”

  “You lie.”

  “Look at your face there, Annie.”

  She swallowed as she stared into her own eyes.

  “That’s the girl I met. It’s who I fell in love with…”

  “Stop it.” She bumped his hip, and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “It’s what I see when I look into your eyes every day and what I want to see for the rest of my life.”

  He turned her body so she faced him. There was no space between them. “I see depth. Emotions beyond my imagination. I see my heavy.”

  Cal leaned down and kissed the tears falling on her cheeks, and then he pressed his lips to hers until they became engrossed, tongues mingling, breath growing stronger, hands beginning to search for body parts, and then…

  “Ahem. Por favor, ve al dormitorio. Hay un niño y una anciana presente.”

  Cal cradled Annie’s face as he finally pulled away. They both smiled, remaining motionless until their heartbeats regulated.

  Except they wouldn’t.

  They were beating too hard and too fast.

  Then Benjamin began to cry. His neck was arching backward, his eyes still closed.

  Cal kissed Annie’s cheek and whispered, “I’ll get him.”

  “I think he just needs to be changed,” Rosa said, wrinkling her nose.

  Annie stretched. “I’m going to go upstairs and change too.”

  “You are stinky, little man,” Cal said as he took him from Rosa’s arms.

  Ben's cries settled, becoming more like whimpers, and tiny tears fell from his cheeks.

  Annie grabbed her camera from the table — she’d been out taking photos again, this time alone — and followed the boys up the staircase. Cal split off into the baby’s bedroom, holding the stinky little man while Annie continued down the hall toward their bedroom.

  Even with the door closed, she could still hear the sounds of her boys: Cal talking to Benjamin and Benjamin crying, his crying a whining now, an insistence, letting the world know he hated his diaper being full.

  Annie set her camera on top of the dresser, then went into the bathroom, unzipping her jacket as she walked. She stopped in front of the large mirror over the sinks, pulled it off, and draped it over the counter.

  Turning to her right, she gazed in the mirror at her body and went over her profile, starting at her head and drifting down as far as her eye could see. She turned back toward the sink, leaned forward, pressed her palms on the counter and looked into her eyes.

  Her eyes.

  The ones Cal said had depth and emotions — the heavy.

  They were so green.

  Greener than she remembered taking credit for. She liked the color: subtle green, fresh forest green, dark emerald. She was caught by surprise staring into her own eyes, and she continued to do so for several minutes while mindful of her breath, trying to see into her own soul, validating a place inside herself no one else could touch.

  She broke the gaze and looked away.

  Then as she peered intensely into them again, she was struck by her expression: conscious awareness. She was mesmerized. Yet a hesitation was present. She wasn’t sure she could go really, really deep.

  “Look at Mommy,” Cal said, swinging Ben into the center of the doorframe, holding him like Superman.

  “Oh my God." Annie jumped. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Look at your beautiful mommy,” Cal said again, bringing his son back and forth, flying. Ben giggled, infectiously and repeatedly, laughing and laughing.

  Grinning, Annie stepped toward Benjamin, picking up on his enthusiasm. “There's my boy.” She leaned closer and kissed his cheek. “Are you flying? Are you flying, Bennie?” She tickled and pinched his sides as Cal swooped his little body toward her. “You smell better. All fresh and clean, huh? Did Daddy change your diaper?”

  “He was a mess.” Cal placed him on the ground.

  Ben stood, wobbly on his feet, fussing and stretching his free hand up, pinching, asking to fly.

  “A stinky mess.” Annie took her son’s other hand.

  Benjamin waddled between his parents, holding onto their fingers as the three of them went toward the full-length, oval-shaped mirror outside the bathroom door. The antique had been Constance’s, and its place was now in this home in a corner of the bedroom.

  Benjamin saw his face in the mirror and seemed to have forgotten about flying because now he was consumed with his reflection. He let go of his mom, so he could slap his hand against the glass, but he continued holding onto Dad. Otherwise, he would fall — kerplop! — on his bum.

  “He likes looking in the mirror almost as much as you do.” Cal glanced at Annie.

  “How long were you standing there … watching me?” She hooded her eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t even hear you.”

  “Mmm, you were thinking. You must’ve been deep in thought."

  “I was feeling.”

  “Did you like what you felt?” This time he asked with no nonsense.

  She sighed and dropped to her knees while looking in the mirror at Ben. He slapped at her reflection and talked, saying his gibberish word for Mommy.

  “I did.” After kissing Ben’s cheek, she tilted her head toward Cal, assuring him.

  Her confidence was intact in all the ways he’d ever remembered seeing.

  Cal sat on the floor, crossing his legs, never letting go of his son’s fingers as Ben let out a wonderful sound of surprise — a laugh mixed with loud, joyful cries. The noise tapered off as Benjamin looked back and forth at his parent’s reflections, dancing and slapping, leaving prints and laughing.

  “Who is that?” Cal leaned his face close to the mirror and opened his eyes wide. “Who is that? Is that Bennie?”

  Annie held onto her son’s waist and sat down too, watching the two of them, their faces, comparing their features, all three of them, amazed this sweet little boy was theirs.

  “He grew inside you, baby. He grew inside your body.”

  “I know.” She stared into her son’s blue eyes.

  Annie’s face and eyes shined, glistening. She continued to look at Benjamin, fully contemplating what Cal had
inferred.

  “Come here.” He tugged on her sweater.

  Scooting closer, she leaned her head against his chest and placed her hand on Cal’s face, resting her palm along his scruffy jawline, stroking his skin.

  Benjamin turned around and fell into them both.

  Cal and Annie laughed while keeping his little body against them. Ben pushed his face into Annie’s chest, nuzzling her, patting her, and babbling.

  “Look at us,” Cal said, glancing in the mirror. “Look at us, Annie. We made a fucking baby.”

  “Tell Daddy to watch his mouth.” She met his gaze in the mirror as she rolled her eyes and pinched her husband’s side.

  “You watch my mouth.” He pushed her face back with his weight and kissed Annie while grinning, tenderly biting her lower lip, then her upper, nibbling while she giggled.

  Benjamin climbed up their bodies and put his face on his mommy’s cheek, his mouth wide open in a complete circle, wetting her skin with his drool, making a soft humming noise.

  “Kisses from both my boys,” Annie said with a sound of surprise.

  “Benjamin already knows how to get a lady’s attention.” Cal turned toward his son. “He knows what he’s doing. Don’t you, little man?” Cal sat up, grabbed Ben’s bottom, and lifted him, and just like that, they were off flying again in an instant.

  Annie laughed while wiping the drool off her cheek.

  “Get changed. I want to take us all out to lunch.” Cal swooshed Ben.

  “Let’s go to the park too." Annie stood.

  “It’s cold out.”

  “He’s used to the cold. And you know he loves the swings.”

  “I want to take you out.”

  “Just me, right now?”

  “No, all of us now. Tonight, just you.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes, tonight.” Cal’s throat began to close, knowing it was going to be the night, knowing he could be himself with her in every way again, knowing Annie was herself. She was always Annie, but she was here and present and had returned from her own long and winding flight, and she had descended into their hearts and landed — forever.

  Cal wanted Annie forever any way he could have her: sick, depressed, tired, upbeat, happy, humble, or whole — anyway, anyhow, and anywhere. The understanding could be felt in the air of the room and in the breaths they drew, all the same yet different.